Absinthe novel Chapter 16

It felt like I had already been waiting for hours since the cameras stopped rolling and Chef Maxwell's staff helped us in cleaning our stations. However, the results were still not in.

"Man, that was really tough," I heard Matt saying as he wiped the counter. "But you did amazing, Jiwoo. Did you have proper training?"

Jiwoo shook his head. "I've been working in the kitchen ever since I was young."

"Cool! You have a family restaurant?"

Jiwoo shook his head again. "I started out as a dishwasher at a fast-food joint."

Matt stopped in his tracks. "No way."

"It's true," Jiwoo said as he continued to wash his utensils and, from the looks of it, Matt's as well. The motherfucker had not bothered asking for mine. "Chow King, to be exact."

"I can't believe it. You look like a rich guy!"

Jiwoo snickered but didn't answer.

"You look like a Korean model, and your English is not bad!"

"Do you have to be rich to speak English well?"

Not really, I thought. But let's face it—even intelligent people from poorer backgrounds speak bad English. Wait, why the hell am I eavesdropping? I should ignore them.

"A lot of us poorer guys speak good English," Jiwoo started. "Not because we want to, but because we have to. For example, call centers are a good source of income, so we hustle."

"Seriously, though, I never pegged you for a commoner."

Did this guy seriously use the word 'commoner'?

"Chef Maxwell's training is costly as fuck," he continued. "I thought everyone who applied can shell out some cash since the fees are more than half a million!"

Half a million. The amount stupid me gave away to that fucktard JM.

The fucktard JM and the fucktards at DBA. God, I thought this cooking thing would help me forget. I guess it was too early for that.

"It doesn't mean I can't save up for it, right?" Jiwoo said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Matt laughed. "Save for it? How much do you earn in a month? Let's say thirty thousand tops. So how many years do you have to starve to save half a million? Fifteen, give or take a few? It's practically impossible, man. Unless you sleep with the likes of Tita Gay or Vice Ghandi, you'll never get that amount!"

Christ, someone stop me from slapping Matt. That's the rudest comment I have ever heard anyone say out loud.

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'll let you suck me off for 50 grand," Jiwoo retorted.

"What the fu—?"

"Fuck? You want to fuck? You need to pay a hundred grand for that."

"Fuck you, man!" Matt said, his face red in anger.

"No good, man. My ass is sacred, so only my dick's for hire," said Jiwoo, chuckling. "And I didn't peg you for a top, not with all the effort you put in trying to mask that sissy voice of yours."

Wow. That was an Academy Award-winning comeback! I was totally cheering for Jiwoo at that point. Matt's an elitist bigot, and he deserved every insult in the book.

I wanted to butt in and support Jiwoo, fire a nasty remark or two. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was still angry at what Jiwoo had done to me earlier.

"We're back in 1 minute!" said a familiar voice over the megaphone.

I finished tidying up my work station and my remaining three domed crème caramels sitting neatly near the edge. I looked around and saw everyone's anxious faces. Only Jiwoo looked calm and composed, not a strand of hair out of place.

"And we're back! It's time to announce the winners!" came the voice of the comedian host. "Let me remind everyone that Chef Maxwell will be choosing four apprentices. They will have their dishes tasted by our celebrity judges waiting for us at the restaurant. And out of those four, the best chef will receive a full scholarship from Chef Maxwell!"

Chef Maxwell was nowhere in sight. He was probably inside the restaurant, sitting with the celebrity judges.

"And here come the envelopes," Vanilla announced teasingly. "Our first finalist is..." he said as he opened the first one. There were literal drumrolls, although I didn't see any drums. They must've been coming from the sound system. "Nicholas Martin!"

I clapped, but no one else did. And I died a little bit inside.

"Our next apprentice is none other than Jiwoo Miguel Garcia, my favorite contestant!" cried Vanilla. "Yummy food, equally yummy chef!"

Everyone giggled at his joke. Jiwoo was grinning from ear to ear. It was his smile of pure evil again. But did Vanilla just say 'Jiwoo Miguel'? What kind of name was that? Judging from his family name, I'd say he's Filipino. But he has Korean features, and his name's partly Korean, too.

"Even if he feeds me with just hotdogs and sausages, I will still happily marry him!" There were roars of laughter at the sexual innuendo. "Anyway, moving on. Our third apprentice is...Vivian Marie Tan!"

The next one will probably be Matt, the bigoted asshole. I had done my best. I had actually done pretty well, if not for Jiwoo.

But what's done was done. I should just clear the air off between us. He's pretty cool, in my opinion, especially after I saw what he did to Matt. I figured he had some issues with rich guys. Coming from the lower echelons of middle class, I perfectly understood how he felt.

I turned to Jiwoo to congratulate him. Suddenly, he looked at me, and he had an unfathomable look on his face.

"And the last one is Ben Jamin Alvarez! Congratulations to our four chosen apprentices! You may now proceed to the restaurant for your final tasting."