The Hybrid and Her Human Mate

The alarm bell went off, and a hand covered in scars and band aids reached out to turn it off. A groan came from underneath the white flowery sheets, and the giant body under them moved, adjusting its position before evening out and falling back to deep sleep.

"Where is he? Does he really want to pull his stupid pranks on such an important day?"

A tall man with specks of gray in his light brown hair, a slim face graced with a roman nose, and dark beady eyes clenched his fist, hitting the kitchen worktable. Everyone watching him flinched, knowing it would hurt, but it was obvious his anger was worse than the pain.

"Call him again."

Seth, the kitchen's chief assistant, shakily took out his phone from his apron pocket, tapped a few times and waited a bit, then the sound of ringing filled the room. Everyone's breath hitched, waiting in anticipation as the phone kept ringing. Adrian, the grey-haired man had his hands tight on his waist. His knuckles were white, but his hands looked really red. He was biting his lip as the phone rang.

"What the...Hello?"

The groggy voice on the other end cut through Adrian's string of curses. Realizing that he had picked up, Adrian grabbed the phone from Seth who was just about to get it to his ear and firmly placed it on his own ear, breathing hard and closing his eyes.

"Where the hell are you?" he asked, his voice low, but threatening to burst.

"At home. Why are you calling so early? What's up, oldie?"

Adrian pinched his nose. "You sick bastard. It’s past ten and the guests have been waiting two hours. You incompetent..." The phone suddenly beeped as the call was ended and a pissed Adrian flung the phone, hitting an array of shiny silver kitchen spoons on the far end, shattering the phone. Seth gasped and Adrian gave him a look.

"You will get a new one from him," he said and walked out.

What? Ten? No way. Dale had set multiple alarms on the gold vintage alarm clock that sat on his bedside, and on his phone. He donned a hoodie and joggers and ran out, grabbing his car keys and barely closing the door. Today was everything for his restaurant. A high-class chef like him was never late. He raked his hand through his hair, the traffic was thick, and he was stuck. He tapped on the little screen on the car and the phone started ringing.

"Sir…" The nervous sounding voice on the other end started to say.

"Start the menu without me. Stir fry filleted fish on low heat. No chilis. No hot sauce. Marinate the fish well enough. Have the taste be clear. I'll be there in fifteen. Don’t give them too much wine. Just enough," he said, and without letting the other person say a word, he hung up. He trusted his employees, and he knew they could do a good job. Just that...the main course was his own. His recipe. His secret. And it was what had made his restaurant famous. No one else served it. No one else made it. He punched the gas pedal hard. How did this happen?

Adrian walked in again, his lips drawn in a stiff line, and his hair scattered. "They are gone," he said, shrugging. Seth gasped and reclined against the giant freezer with his left hand supporting him. The three girls, Maria, Susan, and Riley swallowed and exchanged glances. The other staff stared uncomfortably.

Dale pumped himself up, getting ready to leave his car in the traffic jam, not caring that the cars behind him would not be able to move, and his expensive Ferrari would probably be towed. He would only be able to afford another one if he ran with all his might to save his restaurant. And he had to do it now. Stretching a bit on the sidewalk, he started to run, the hood of his hoodie fell off and bounced on his back as he ran with careless abandon.

Adrian was sitting cross legged, pouting, while the rest stood around the massive black and gold themed kitchen when the doors burst open, and Dale came in. All eyes turned to him, mostly with sympathy or just sadness.

Dale was tall, and his jet-black hair was soft and curly like a baby. His lips were bright red, and his jawline was prominent. His face was bathed in sweat and his hair was dripping. 

He had started his own street side restaurant at the age of 17, holding onto the memories of his mother's food. When she died, Dale was left with a drunk father and a 3-year-old brother whom he knew he had to take care of. He carried carts of food around, and soon enough had regular customers. In five years, he had started his restaurant, Grandeur, and by the time he was twenty-five, it was a world class, highly patronized restaurant with its own independent menu, employees, and everything. Featured on magazines and TV shows, his face was easily recognized. The previous night had been his 25th birthday, and they had drinks with his brother, his brother's girlfriend, and Adrian, who had been his mother's first love. Adrian had always stuck by her and her kids, who he loved like his own even after she died.

Dale was never good with alcohol, and it had made him pass out, making him forget that it was the assessment test the next day. He had looked forward to it, and always joked that he would celebrate his birthday in arrears because he knew by the end of the assessment test, he would have two things to be grateful for. But now, watching his employees' sad expressions, he doubted it. He also doubted that he would want to be sober by the end of the day. He calmly let go of the door handles and walked in, scanning their faces one by one, before settling on Adrian.

"I gave instructions. Where are the already prepared side dishes? The appetizer? The dessert? If you have done all of those, I will make the main course now," he said, his hand reaching for his shiny black apron with Dale inscribed on it in gold. Adrian stood.

"No need for that, Dale."

His outstretched hand froze in place as he turned to him.

"What do you mean by that?"

Adrian bit his lower lip and sighed, his anger mostly diminished and sadness in its place.

"They left. We failed, Dale."

Dale gave a weak laugh but stopped when he saw the serious expressions. "Please tell me that’s a joke."

Adrian shook his head, stretched his hand, and placed it on Dale's slumped shoulder before giving it a little squeeze. "I wish it was too. I—"

Dale pushed his hand away.

"Don’t give me that, Oldie. We didn't fail, we can't fail. We prepared for months. The assessors know about Grandeur. They know us."

"They waited three hours, Dale. The side dishes, appetizers, and whatever went cold. You weren't here."

Dale yanked at his hair.

"No. No. No. This is not happening."

Adrian tried to pat his shoulder, but Dale moved away, his eyes red.

"Let’s pull some strings. Oldie, you have contacts! Pull some strings for goodness’ sake. Do something!"

Adrian sighed seeing the crazy desperation in Dale's eyes.

"They waited three hours because I have contacts, Dale. Who would wait three hours for food?"

Dale yanked at his hair again, jumping from foot to foot.

"You don't get it. I worked all my life for this. I gave my youth away to build this kitchen. This restaurant. This...this can't happen to me."

"I understand, Dale, we can take the ass—"

"Shh…" Dale’s index finger was on his lips. "Don't give me that! Just don't!"

Adrian flinched.

"You have contacts. You know people. Get them to help us. We can't just lose everything like this. Do you have any idea what will happen to Grandeur if it gets out that we failed the assessment? We are ruined. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Seth spoke up, his voice shaking a bit. "Please get a hold of yourself, Dale."

"R-U-I-N-E-D!!! That's what we are!"

Adrian wrapped his arms around himself, as Dale put his hands on his head, his fingers grasping his hair. "Please stop. There will be a way. We will find a way, we always have. Somehow. We'll do it somehow."

Dale shook his head and moved away, putting his weight on the kitchen worktable. "What do we do now, Adrian? What can we do? What do we have to do?" His voice was shaky, and he looked like he was ready to burst at the seams.

"I…we will figure something out."

"While Grandeur falls to ruins?" Dale was not looking at Adrian anymore, but at the hanging cutlery, and then his eyes rested on the special corner. The special corner was not part of the original kitchen plan, but once they started to receive accolades, medals, recognition plaques and even little notes from satisfied customers, he had paid someone to open up a small part of the kitchen where they could hang their awards.

The special corner was highly visible, and in his own words, "No matter how many cuts, burns, or flops you get in the kitchen, just look at the happy people waiting outside to reward you with a smile. If you can’t see them right now, then look at what they have given you to remind you of them."

It had always been a source of motivation for him, but today, it felt like it was pinching him. The tears stung behind his eyes, and he bit down on his lips. What was he going to do? Just one late night. One drunk night. One long sleep. One missed alarm. And it ruined everything he had worked hard for. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it was Seth. Seth had been his childhood friend from when they were only poor children on the streets. Seth had been there through thick and thin and had loved Dale even when he became mean whenever he was too stressed out, or even aggressive when his meal just didn't taste right.

"I'm sorry this happened, Dale. I should have—"

Dale put a palm on his hand and nodded. "It’s fine. Don't...don't blame yourself. Close up. I'm going home."

He straightened, but waivered and Seth moved to hug him, but he raised a hand to stop him. "I'm fine."

"Did you come with your car?" Dale only shook his head and made a hand gesture indicating that they should leave him alone, before he made his way slowly to the kitchen door. He struggled a bit to open it and when he finally did, he walked out, leaving the door behind him wide open.

The voices clouded his mind as he trudged on the sidewalk, with slumped shoulders.

"Slowly, but surely…"

‘You're such a quick learner, son. You will grow up to become even better.’

‘We will make it there because your vision matters.’

"Hey, look where you're going, will you?" Dale raised his eyes to meet the angry eyes of a middle-aged man screaming at the top of his lungs, some liquid dripping off his shirt.

‘They are gone, Dale, we failed…’

‘I should have woken you up…’

‘They stayed because I had contacts.’

‘They were waiting for three hours, Dale.’

‘You incompetent…’

"I am sorry."

He sat on the ground with his legs spread out and his hands resting on them. His vision was hazy, and he felt like puking on all the feet walking past him as voices floated into his ears. His world seemed to be spinning faster.

"Isn’t that Dale, the chef?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Let’s go. He must have lost his mind."

"What could have gone so wrong?"

He reached up to his ears to cover them, but the voices inside spoke louder and cut deeper and soon enough, his world went blank.

"It’s a good thing we decided to follow him, Seth. God knows what would have happened if we hadn't." Seth shook his head pitifully as he tucked Dale under the white bedcovers.

"I hope things get better. I want to look into how the restaurant will look tomorrow with hope. If we don't recover from this, I know Dale will deteriorate along with it."