Salty

Thirty-Five | Double Bubble?

Thirty-Five | Ollie

Seattle wasn't that different from Chicago. Tall buildings, busy streets, fast-paced citizens that had their shit way more together than a chef who was flying by the seat of his pants. There was no plan. Well, Seattle had been the plan for the last two years, but uplifting life completely in a matter of days was not part of it. For instance, I had money—quite a lot from teaching alone—that was not set aside for the Airbnb I was currently staying in. Seven days here was worth not having to worry about bed bugs in some overused hotel room that was lacking a thorough cleaning. However, it was not worth the dent in the bank account. I needed to find something and something soon.

It took a few days getting used to the transportation system. I'd spent the week dressing out of my suitcase and skipping breakfast to make a commuter bus. Compared to Chicago busses, they were fairly clean, thankfully. Today would be the first time I needed to take the metro. I was scheduled to meet a realtor and view a new restaurant space. Of all the places I'd scoped out, the one today looked the most promising. Especially because it had an apartment in the basement. If I could save on two spaces for one price, that would be a definite bonus for cutting the plan short by a few years.

Stepping off the railcar, I took a sip of scorching hot coffee. It burned my tongue, but damn, it felt good in my cold chest. It reminded me that the body I was filling was still living, even if it didn't feel like it lately. I felt numb. Hopefully, today would be the day I'd find the perfect spot for my restaurant. This would be the first step in finding myself again.

The old brick building was only two blocks from the metro's stopping point—a definite bonus. Maybe I wouldn't need a car. That was so long as Seattle didn't get as much snow as the Midwest in the winter. An empty, lit sign hung above the door, making me question what the hell I would even name the place. My name was out of the question. My name was supposed to be left back in Chicago with the family and restaurant that still claimed it. This blank sign made my stomach churn with anxiety.

"Oliver?" My name was being questioned by an abnormally tall, but very attractive, woman.

The stranger held a binder with a set of keys. Her long black hair was extremely curly and loose. I found it a little weird that she was wearing a nametag—displaying the name of Holly and the realty business—when it was just going to be the two of us at this showing. Was I not supposed to trust her without it?

Seattle was weird.

"That's me." I sighed, wondering if I should have worn my name. That just seemed stupid.

"Great!" She placed a key in the lock, turning it until we heard a thunk. "I'm Holly. I'll be showing you around the building today."

The glass door was unlocked to give way to a lobby that was perfect for a waiting and hostess area. It was smaller than the area Mulligan's used back home, but the actual floor of the restaurant, I knew, had almost double the occupancy limit. Hopefully, there wouldn't be much of a wait for people to be seated.

"Do you have other restaurants, or will this be your first?"

I sipped from my coffee and scanned the room again, not meeting her direct eye contact. "I own one with family back in Chicago. I'm its chef."

"Oh, great!" she exclaimed. "You'll love the area. It's very up and coming."

Up and coming... not the words I wanted to hear. Up and coming meant trendy. Trendy food meant a menu that constantly changed and rarely had the time to perfect anything. If I took this place, it was going out on a major limb that the people of this area would be interested in classic home-style dishes with my signature touch and flavors.