The cacophony of rattling pots and pans was a familiar din in Seunghyun’s ear.   He’d worked kitchens for nearly a decade now and the fast pace and constant pressure of restaurant life was as natural as breathing at this point, though he knew the chaos of cooks and waiters rushing past, all screaming to be heard above the fray, would be enough to drive most people for the door. 

Some nights, for him, it still was.  A fresh recruit right out of culinary school barreled into Seunghyun as he came in the back door, and his five gallon vat of pasta sauce nearly tidal-waved over the side in his sudden stop.  Luckily for him, the new head chef grabbed the bottom just in time.  Unluckily for Seunghyun, he’d had to use his bare hand.

“I’m sorry sir!  I’m so sorry!” the 20-something pleaded, near tears as Seunghyun held back curses and darted to the first aid cabinet.  “Please don’t fire me, I really need this job and—“

“Fire you?”  Seunghyun shook his hurt hand while fumbling with the plastic box in search of burn cream.  He stomped his foot in some kind of childish attempt to divert the pain.  “I don’t even think I’ve met you.  Besides, it happens all the time.  Just be more careful from now on.” 

The rookie cook hurried off with a flurry of 'yes sirs' and 'thank you sirs' while Seunghyun wrapped a bandage around his palm.  It was going to be one of those nights, it seemed.

“That’s what I was telling you about,” a voice rose above the flurry.  Daesung was wiping his hands on his stained apron as he approached; his sleeves were rolled up over his prominent biceps and the red bandana tied around his forehead was already dappled with sweat.  “There’s at least four new hires running around tonight with no clue what they’re doing.”

“They’ll learn.  It takes a while to get used to the pace around here.”  Seunghyun began a once-over of the bustling kitchen, head sweeping from left to right as he analyzed the other cooks’ current tasks, looking for anywhere to jump in and help.  Daesung followed behind single file as they marched down the narrow space between stoves and counters.

“I know that, but the least Chef Song could do is be here to train people if he’s going to hire them.  They aren’t paying me to do it.”  He stopped in front of a large industrial sink overflowing with dirty cookware, grabbing the back of Seunghyun’s white uniform to stop him as well.  “Help me with this, the dishwasher didn’t show.  Again.”

Truth be told, the existence of a dishwasher at BREEZE was more urban legend than reality.  Management often spoke of different unnamed employees hired to handle clean-up, brushing off their absence as a last-minute call-off or emergency, but no one either of the two worked with had ever seen them.  Rather, it fell to whoever happened to be free at the moment to keep up with the ever mounting sea of dirty dishes, be it a part time waiter or head chef.  Daesung theorized it was a way to cut corners and save money by not actually hiring anyone.  Seunghyun was starting to believe him.

“I’ll go work with them a bit tonight, see what I can do.  I mean, I guess they are paying me to do it.”  He rolled up his sleeves as well, pressing the button on the soap dispenser and Daesung stopped the drain and the water.

“You’ve been doing enough of his dirty work lately, though.  It’s like he promoted you just so he could sit on his .”  Daesung’s eyes darted to Seunghyun’s face, gauging his reaction.  The promotion had been a bit of a sore issue between the two of them, as they’d basically been competing with each other for the title.  But that was in the past, and it wasn’t something to ruin a friendship over.  “Not that you didn’t earn it or anything.”

Seunghyun laughed.  “Whatever, it’s my job now.  I signed up for it.”  He stacked cookware in the large rinsing machine as the other chef handed it off.  “You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t think so too.”

“I had no choice!”  Something crashed across the room, and an older cook could be heard yelling about the ‘incompetent moron’ who must have caused it.  “See?!”

~~~

“This guy can’t be serious,” Jiyong mumbled behind his hand, just loud enough for Chaerin to hear.  “You can’t be serious.”

“He’s applied like five times in the last month alone.  Plus he brought all his own equipment.”  She poured the contents of a cocktail shaker into the glass of a patron on the other side of the bar.  The woman smiled and nodded in thanks, never pausing her conversation with her date on the bar stool next to her.  They both turned from Chaerin and Jiyong to watch the one-man horror show on the stage of the club: a gangly art school reject crooning confusing lyrics over uninspired acoustic guitar.  And while the pair had always maintained a more classy, laid back atmosphere compared to the booming dance halls of their part of town, this show was positively boring.  Jiyong watched with dismay as a trio seated at a table stood up to leave, shaking their heads.

“It’s worse than I thought.”  Tossing a cleaning rag over his shoulder, he filled a glass of beer from one of the taps for another guest.  “We’re driving people away with our ty entertainment!”

It was just after nine, peak hours for an establishment like theirs, but even on the first warm Saturday in months the turn-out was dismal.

Chaerin took Jiyong by the wrist, waving over one of the waitresses to cover for them behind the bar.  “Which makes this the perfect opportunity to show you what I’ve whipped up,” she said as she led him back to the office.

She closed the door behind them, but not soon enough to miss a painfully sour note from the night’s act.  “I know you wanted to wait, but I think we’ve waited long enough as it is.”  A stack of poster sized flyers lay on the desk, and she held one up to present to Jiyong.  “Ta-da!  What do you think?”

"When did you find time to make something like this?" Jiyong asked, astonished.  "We just talked about this a few hours ago."

"Well... technically I whipped them up months ago.  I was hiding them upstairs until you came around."

He raised an eyebrow in her direction before leaning forward to read the flyer.  “’Club Moderato is currently seeking a full time act to perform three to four nights a week—‘ Four nights?  Are we getting rid of Open Mic Night?”

“Shut up and read it!”

“’Three to four nights a week.  Seeking talented musicians and singers with jazz, soul, or R&B sound.  Benefits available.’  Since when?”

“We’ll figure that out later.”  She sat down behind the cluttered desk and moused absentmindedly on the outdated computer.  “We’ll set a few dates for open auditions too.  I already put it up on our website.”

Jiyong chewed his bottom lip.  It was a good plan, really the only alternative.  Their best business had always come when they had a steady, charismatic performer that could grow a loyal following and bring reliable business every week.  The last such act had been nearly a year and a half ago, with an American band that performed mostly instrumentally, but took guest vocalists every other night.  Bennie and the Red Heads garnered themselves and Club Moderato rave reviews in the entertainment sections of the local papers, but they had eventually returned to the states, leaving Jiyong and Chaerin high and dry.  The latter had wanted to seek a replacement immediately, but Jiyong had only ever agreed to take Bennie’s offer to step in after Youngbae’s passing because the two had been such good friends.  Bringing someone new into the fold felt strange.  But it might just be their last hope to keep the club afloat.

“Alright, I’m on board.”  He took half the stack of flyers and laid them near his coat and bag.  “I’ll hang some up around town tomorrow.”

Chaerin was so delighted, she leapt from her seat and rushed around the desk to embrace him.  “Things are really gonna turn around now, Jiyong, I just know it!”

~~~

Minji was waiting in the living room downstairs, watching late night talk shows, when Seunghyun got home.  “Daesung’s outside,” he announced, though the car horn wailing in through the open door told that tale.  “He says he hopes you brought money for Mega Burger.”

“Why doesn’t he just eat at BREEZE?”  She rolled her eyes, but grabbed her backpack and headed out.  “It’s like four-star cuisine, but he’d rather eat some nasty fast food slop everyday…”  The horn was still blaring as she hurried down the stoop.  “I’M COMING, ALREADY!” And they were gone.

Seunghyun headed upstairs, flexing his still slightly throbbing hand and looking forward to the ibuprofen in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet.  He stopped to peek into Minhee’s room for a moment, and found her sleeping soundly amidst a plethora of well-worn plush animals and dolls.  With tip-toed steps he snuck in to kiss her forehead lightly.  He’d missed too many bed times of late.

After a shower and trip back downstairs for a nightcap, Seunghyun was settled into bed and flipping through the DVR when his phone vibrated on the dresser.  He had a text from Daesung.

What’s this Sis tells me about your new boyfriend?  It’s been a while dude!

Damn it, Minji, he thought.  Why do you have to be so… But what more could be expected of a teenager?

Some guy at the park today.  His kid was playing with mine, that’s all.

He considered turning his phone off and rolling over to sleep, but ignoring the two of them usually only made things worse.  Sure enough, another text arrived moments later.

Did you at least get his number?

No I didn’t get his number.  Shut up.  Good night.

Flipping out the light and the TV, he slunk beneath the covers, hoping they were satisfied.  He had nearly drifted into sleep when his phone, shoved somewhere under the pillows, came alive once more.

Minji thinks she found him on Facebook.  Didn’t you say his name was Jungmin?

At that, he really did turn off his phone.

~~~

It was after midnight when Jiyong got home that night to find the sitter Eunjung referred to as The Cougher snoring on the sofa while the television played on mute in the darkened room.  Her signature overflowing ashtray sat among the remains of streamers and balloons from the birthday party earlier that afternoon.

“Mrs. Jang,” he whispered softly, shaking her shoulder.  “Mrs. Jang, it’s Jiyong!  You can go home now!”  She awoke with a sudden start and went into a fit of wheezing and hacking.  He attempted to assist her but she waved him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.  Let me get my coat.”  She was walking out when she stopped to point to the corner near Jiyong’s record collection.  “You didn’t say anything about taking the dog out, so that’s for you,” she said before closing the door.  Sure enough, Gaho had left a shockingly large present for Jiyong to clean up on the carpet.  How a pup that size could make messes like that, he’d never understand.  But he left it for the moment to check on Eunjung.

As usual, she was still awake, watching a DVD of her favorite giant robot anime – of which, for the life of him, Jiyong could never remember the name.  She looked up from the screen just in time to see him come in, and tried to hide the can of soda in her hand.

“Oh no you don’t!” he exclaimed as he confiscated the sugary drink.  “What have I said about soda after 7, huh?  This is why you don’t sleep at night.”  Ignorant to his own hypocrisy, he downed the rest of the can himself.

Eunjung didn’t miss it much.  “Are we really going back to the park tomorrow, Daddy?”

Fishing Gaho from beneath the bed, he tucked the sleepy puppy under the blankets next to his daughter.  “Sure baby, I don’t see why not.”

“Good.”  He knelt to kiss her goodnight, and she hugged him about the neck.  “Aunt Chae told me not to let you out of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She said you wouldn’t want to go back because you’re embarrassed that your boooyfriend would see you again.”

Laughing, he ripped back the blankets and attacked, hands tickling at her sides and under her arms as she wriggled and screamed.  “You two think you’re pretty funny, huh!”  The commotion startled Gaho so that he growled and yapped, biting at Jiyong’s hands with what few sharp teeth he had.  “Alright, alright, I’ll leave her alone!”  He retreated from the room, looking back to stick out a tongue at the sound of Eunjung telling Gaho what a good boy he was.

She wouldn’t think that if she had to clean up his little mess in the living room, he thought.