Chapter 6 A Gift in My Shoe

Jordan POV

I'm used to small towns like this. Actually, Rosehill feels big compared to mine. And I'm no stranger to the chaos of lunch and dinner rush in a restaurant - I worked in one after I finished school.

But I wasn't ready for the pressure... or for Chef Black's permanent bad mood.

What a jerk.

A genius in the kitchen.

But an ogre when it comes to basic human kindness.

I got to taste a few of the sauces while plating. Divine. The kind of flavours that make you question whether you've ever truly cooked before.

And his sous-chef... Lorenzo? An actual snack. With that easy smile that turned my ears bright red. Not helpful. At all.

I walked back to my tiny rented house. The landlord had left the key where agreed - I hadn't even met him yet; I arrived late last night. Tonight wouldn't be much earlier. But this morning, I did meet the dog. Big. Really big. Thankfully, tied up.

I admit: I'm scared of barking dogs. Worse if they're big - if they're small, it's just more humiliating. Don't judge me. I like animals. I think dogs are cute... as long as they're quiet.

Barking? Full panic.

I can't explain it. Maybe childhood trauma? Who knows.

The landlord lives downstairs. I'm on the upper floor. The apartment is small, but cozy. It has everything I need to survive the internship months. Three, if I can manage not to get fired before that.

I think Chef can't fire me in the first month - something to do with marketing or image or whatever. I have the contract, but I didn't really read it. I was just interested in the part about training with him. The rest? Bureaucracy. But he doesn't seem like someone who'd let legal technicalities stop him. Doesn't matter. I'm going to make the most of it. Learn everything the Ogre Black is willing to teach me.

And then I'll go chase my own success. I don't expect to be like her. I'm not jealous... Shit. I am. Because what she did wasn't fair. But I let it happen. So I can't complain.

Anyway. I need my bed now. I'm exhausted.

Before opening the gate, I looked around. Dog in sight? No. I opened it slowly... and the moment I stepped through, I felt my foot land on something soft. Shit. Literally.

"Fuck."

And it wasn't just a gentle squish. No. I stomped it. Like only someone completely distracted could. The smell confirmed it. A lovely canine welcome gift. How thoughtful.

I stepped in, trying not to spread any more of it, and closed the gate behind me. I was still debating what to do to avoid leaving poop prints everywhere when my phone rang.

In the silence of the night, it was deafening. Great. I tried to dig it out of my purse - to answer or just silence it - and that's when I heard the dog barking. I panicked. The dog was inside the house, but it sounded like it could burst through the door any second.

I jumped back. Worse - I dropped my damn purse. And my phone. On the ground. You can guess what happened next.

I almost wished I'd stepped in it again - instead of my phone landing in it.

I picked it up carefully, disgusted. Then grabbed my bag and headed in, fuming. I didn't even hesitate as I walked up the stairs: I left footprints. Yes. On purpose. My little revenge for the landlord not picking up his dog's gift.

I kicked off my shoes at the bottom of the stairs and headed up barefoot. Muttering. Exhausted. In desperate need of a shower, food, and a full system reset. Or, honestly, just a shower and a coma would do.

The missed call? My dad.

I wiped down the phone as best I could - still imagining all the bacteria in its crevices - and called him back on speaker, like just touching it might still contaminate me.

"Hi, Dad."

"You survived?" he said instantly, laughing. I rolled my eyes - even though he couldn't see - and grumbled into the phone.

"That bad, huh?"

"It went well." Lie. He wouldn't believe it, but whatever. At least I hadn't been fired - yet. That was something.

"Just had a run-in with a little gift left by the landlord's dog."

"Your landlord has a dog?" His tone immediately shifted to that mix of pity and concern only a father can pull off. But then, as the story clicked into place, he burst out laughing. "Wait... you stepped in it... you actually-"

"Yes. That's right." I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. To anyone else, this might be hilarious - but I wasn't there yet.

"Well, sweetheart, at least work went well," he said, still half-laughing.

"Yeah, at least that." I rolled my eyes, reliving my entire first day. "I'll call you tomorrow, Dad. I really need to sleep."

"Sure, honey. I've missed you - things have been way too quiet around here." This time, I actually laughed. Of course... without me around, his world must seem abnormally calm.

I hung up after promising to call the next day. Probably after cleaning my phone... ten more times. And maybe performing an exorcism. I... probably need that more than the phone does. But in my experience, it'd be a waste of money.

________________________________________

The alarm rang. I ignored it. Rang again. Still ignored it. I was so drained from the trip and the first day that I let myself stay in bed just a little longer.

Mistake.

When the phone buzzed again, it was the "get up or you're screwed" alarm.

I ran to the sink, splashed cold water on my face, tied my hair into a messy bun, and threw on something simple and comfy. My kitchen uniform would be waiting at the restaurant - and yes, I brought yesterday's one home to wash. No clue how I'll get half those stains out, but I'm putting my faith in the machine... or a miracle.

That's when I remembered.

The shoes. Shit.

I'd left them by the stairs last night after the... disgusting incident. They were still dirty. Should've washed them right away. I completely forgot.

I ran downstairs to grab them and give them a quick clean before heading out. Yesterday I was early - today I was definitely going to be late. Brilliant.

And the shoes... were gone.

Why? Where were my shoes?

For a second, I thought: maybe the landlord had taken them to clean.

Sweet, foolish hope.

Wrong.

That's when I saw him. The dog. Lying in the corner of the yard, something between his paws, happily chewing away...

I approached slowly. Cautiously.

Yep. One of my shoes. Or what was left of it - slobbery, half-shredded, a crime against footwear. The other was tossed a few feet away, probably the one that had been "blessed" last night. Even the dog wouldn't touch it.

Trying to take them back? Not an option. Not with that beast. Battle lost. They weren't even worth saving.

I sighed, let my arms fall limp, and went back upstairs.

Frantic, I opened my suitcase - still unpacked, of course. I'm not one of those people who arrive and immediately unpack with military precision. Now... I kind of wish I was.

I tore through clothes, bags, pockets. Where were my other shoes?

Oh. Wait. No... it can't be. I remembered taking things out to rearrange the suitcase so everything would fit. Did I leave the shoes behind?

Of course. Brilliant.

Only option? Flip-flops.

I stared at them. They stared back. And in the end... I lost. It's not like I had a choice. I put them on, grabbed my bag, and left, hoping to find a shop along the way where I could buy some actual shoes.

Preferably before running into Chef Black.

What would he think if he saw me show up in flip-flops?

(Nothing good. Probably "unacceptable" would be the kindest word out of his mouth.)