Chapter Text
Louis stood in the middle of the construction site that would be the kitchen of his new restaurant. Tuning out the sounds of the crew, his right hand moved an imaginary pan, the left hand grabbed an air-plate to pour the dish into. And he walked it to the pass where he'd say. "Service!"
This was his restaurant. Âme, French for soul. As in soul food and how he hoped to create a warm environment and homestyle food that feeds people’s souls.
It might sound rather sappy but he didn’t care. Growing up, he'd spent hours cooking in his grandmother’s kitchen and he'd always dreamed of capturing and sharing that atmosphere in his own restaurant. And now, that dream was finally coming true.
Even the location would help with the atmosphere he wanted, being close enough to the ocean and boardwalk in New Hampshire that tourists would naturally filter in but far enough that the locals wouldn't see it as an overpriced tourist trap. Tourists looking for something special, local families, couples out for date night or casual evenings. He would have it all!
“You look exhausted. Ever heard of slowing down?” Daniel, his sous chef and friend, said as he sauntered in to stand beside him.
“I'll slow down when we're up and running.” Louis replied mildly. His enthusiastic grin didn’t diminish. “Just picture it. In two months, we'll be serving food from this kitchen.”
Daniel sighed. “There's still so much to do, and then there's inspections and paperwork. I'd give it three months and one more just to be safe.” He wandered off.
Louis grinned. Nope, we'll open in two.
He couldn’t help it, being optimistic. After years at the infamous Le Cordon Bleu of Paris he was finally, finally, going to have what he always wanted. While he loved the restaurant he worked in in New Hampshire, he couldn’t stop dreaming of having his own place. With his own menu. His choice of interior. His own staff, all carefully chosen and committed to the work environment Louis was hoping to create.
At just thirty-two years-old, he was going to have his dream restaurant. Yes, it was still an empty shell with jumble of mess in it and as Daniel said, there was a mountain of things to do, but compared to even just one year ago, this place was light years closer already to his goal.
He felt on top of the world. Unstoppable.
“Chef! Someone is here to see you,” Daniel called out from the dining room.
Reluctant, Louis left the kitchen and headed to the dining room. It was probably one of the neighbours, curious about the renovations and new restaurant. He was opening up in one of the most popular restaurant areas in New Hampshire and many other chefs kept stopping by to scope out the competition. Considering most places were bars, grills and a few Mexican, Italian and Asian restaurants, no one really saw Louis’s Creole cuisine as a threat. He was even invited to join some of the other chefs for drinks tonight.
Louis was carving a place for himself in this new community already and he hadn’t even opened yet.
That's what he wanted for his restaurant. To make it a place for families to feel right at home. And that’s the relationship he wanted with his neighbours.
He stepped into the dining room, and his steps faltered as he caught sight of his latest visitor. The man had a neat blonde pony tail, was wearing black jeans, Doc Martins, a black leather jacket and was turning in place, inspecting the room.
Louis pasted on a bright smile and stepped forward. “Hello. I’m Louis de Pointe du Lac.”
The man turned and Louis inhaled sharply as he finally saw his face. His striking and handsome face. Full lips, sculpted cheekbones and bright grey-blue eyes.
Eyes that were narrowed with anger.
Louis’s smile fell and he automatically crossed his arms, cursing the man for putting him on the defensive and ruining his happy peaceful bubble before he even opened the doors.
“Can I help you?” he asked coolly, jutting out his chin and straightening his shoulders, appearing intimidating to the man who was just slightly taller than him.
“Your restaurant. It’s New Orleans cuisine?” the man snapped, his voice tinged with a French accent.
“Yes.”
The man snorted and crossed his arms too, coming to stand across from Louis, mirroring his belligerent stance.
“So, French. Or rather a poor imitation of French.” The man bit out.
“Excuse me?” Louis asked incredulously.
“Will you be serving gumbo?” He sneered. “A Bouillabaisse’s poor cousin. And Creole chicken is just French Chicken Chasseur.”
Louis's body burned with rage and he took a menacing step forward. His throat was tight so he forced the words out, hissing. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’d better get the hell out of my restaurant.”
“My problem is that you’re opening a restaurant that is a poor imitation of the French food that I will be serving just down the block!”
Louis blinked. “You’re the one at the end of the block. Bonne Étoile.”
“Yes,” the blonde said, shaking his hair back and teeth gleaming as his eyes filled with pride. “That’s my restaurant.”
Louis shook his head, using his life-long patience that got him through his family, culinary schools and being a gay black man dealing with the bigotry of daily life. When dealing with a diva chef, Louis knew he had to keep his cool while not appearing weak or cowed. It was a fine line Louis learned how to navigate years ago.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to trick his lips into a consoling smile, his voice as soothing and reasonable as possible. The- we’re all professional adults here- voice his father spent hours coaching him on. “Look. I get there might be an overlap, but our food is different enough that there won’t really be any competition. Creole isn’t just French, you know.” He widened his smile for extra impact. The- See. We’re all friends here- smile.
The man was not impressed with Louis’s olive branch and snorted. “I’m not worried about competition. I’m worried your basic food will turn customers away from my place.”
Louis’s jaw dropped, seeing his desire for a communal and happy environment inside and outside his restaurant vanishing. That was the last excuse he ever expected to hear, and the most illogical, he was rendered speechless for a few moments, life long lessons forgotten.
“Are you serious right now?” Louis exclaimed. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I thought I made it very clear. You’re my problem!”
“Get out!” Louis snapped, gesturing at the door.
“No, you leave.” The man snarled, getting up in Louis’s face.
Fuck this! Louis thought viciously. He never let anyone push him around before, and he damn well wasn’t going to just sit back and take it in his own frickin' restaurant!
“Get out!” Louis roared and did something he hadn’t done in years. He put his hands on another human being. He wrapped his hand tightly around the man’s forearm as he herded him out the door.
“Let go of me!” the man snapped, twisting out of Louis’s grip. He was strong and the leather was slippery.
But Louis was a chef and had muscles of his own. He grabbed the man’s shoulders and pushed as hard as he could. Daniel appeared out of nowhere and held the door open and Louis shoved the man out, sending him almost sprawling to the ground. He twisted around and glared at Louis.
“You stay the hell away from my restaurant.” Louis snapped and slammed the door shut. Chest heaving, he paced the dining room, trying to burn off his rage.
“Wowsie.” Daniel said, peeking out through the giant front window. “That guy is a piece of work.”
“Whatever.” Louis huffed. “He’d better stay away.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was going to be impossible to avoid someone who was only one block over.
Louis didn’t realize how impossible it would be to avoid the crazy man until he arrived at the bar for the chef gathering that night. Everyone greeted him, waving him over with bright smiles. Louis smiled back.
Until he saw the obnoxious blonde psycho. As soon as he saw Louis, the man glared back.
“Louis.” One of the chefs said. “This is Lestat de Lioncourt. He’s opening a new restaurant too.”
“When is your opening day, Lestat?” Someone asked.
Louis and Lestat didn’t break eye contact.
“May.” Lestat stated.
The chefs laughed nervously and looked between them.
“Funny, isn’t that when you’re opening your place, Louis?”
Louis’s face twitched. Lestat’s jaw clenched harder.
Suddenly, Lestat smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. “I look forward to working alongside you. Neighbour.”
Same here.
It will be a pleasure.
Looking forward to working beside you.
None of those words flickered through Louis’s mind. All those lessons on how to speak in polite society and deal with troublesome colleagues had no place in his thoughts or life right now.
“Screw you.”
Everyone gasped and murmured and Lestat smirked. Louis stomped away, vowing to keep that psycho out of his life.
Âme's current status: Opening soon!
