Working at Blackpine Bay was a hassle. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the once-bright dining room now faded with age.

He had been there for over three years, starting at 14 when the restaurant was thriving—tables always full, reservations piled high, and food that made customers rave. Back then, the air smelled of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces, and the sound of laughter mixed with the clink of silverware. The owners, Billy and Maria, treated him like family, and the chefs and waitresses matched his playful energy. At 18, he still remembered those golden days, now just a distant memory as he wiped another dusty table.

Everything changed when Rick became manager. The kitchen grew tense, the menu became unrecognizable, and the once-friendly atmosphere turned toxic. Now the air hung heavy with grease and resentment, and the only sounds were the clatter of dishes and occasional raised voices from the kitchen.

He'd learned to keep his head down and his mouth shut, even as Jason the head chef snapped at him constantly and Rick pushed him aside like he was invisible. The weight of three years of disrespect pressed down on him as he straightened another napkin, his hands trembling slightly.

The bell above the door jingled, making him jump. A man in a tailored suit stepped inside, surveying the empty restaurant with a critical eye. He recognized Gordon Ramsay immediately—everyone in the restaurant industry did. His heart raced. This was exactly what they needed.

Rick appeared from the back office, practically shoving him aside to greet the celebrity chef. He stumbled but quickly composed himself, watching as Ramsay's eyes flickered toward him, noticing the rough treatment. When Rick turned his back, Ramsay gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod before following Rick toward a table.

Moments later, he was summoned to take Ramsay's order, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the notepad. "What's your name, darling?" Ramsay asked, his voice surprisingly gentle compared to his television persona.

"I'm—" He stumbled over his own name, embarrassed by how easily his confidence evaporated in the presence of both Ramsay and Rick, who hovered nearby like a vulture. "I'm sorry, sir. Right this way." He led Ramsay to his table, hyper-aware of every movement as he took the order, the weight of hope and fear pressing equally on his chest.