Be Someone Else • •

[kenneally shannon rippley]

Most of the time, if someone wanted Ripper his name was hollered through to the kitchen. Typically, those times were people asking about the ingredients of a dish, or double checking to see if something could be made if he had been heard grumbling about a late delivery again. Very rarely was it actually anything of an emergency. If things got a little rowdy he had always volunteered to help go and break it up. He had played rugby for most of his life, so a few men thinking they were the baddest guys in New York City didn’t scare him too much. Ripper had come to realise that there was more blood spilt on the rugby pitch than there was in an Irish pub in downtown Brooklyn. People spoke a big game, but they rarely played it. A few drinks and guys thought they were King Kong going to smash up Manhattan. Alas, all they were capable of smashing were a few of their own ribs as they fell over the toilet bowl.

He had been elbow deep in dough, making up the meat pies that would be frozen for the weekend rush. Wednesday afternoons were always his prep days for the busier nights. It may have just been easier to order in frozen, but Ripper enjoyed making his stuff, and it surprisingly saved money. Plus, they could reword advertisements and the menus so that no food critic could ever accuse them of lying about freshness. Ripper worked his ass off, even if most of their food was going to drunken people, or those who didn’t care if it was outstanding so long as it didn’t make them sick and provided a stodgy layer for alcohol to go on top of. He didn’t want to work in some high-class establishment, serving gourmet dishes to people who considered themselves foodies. However, Ripper hadn’t given anything in his life less than his best.

He wasn’t expecting anything more than Perri’s head around the doorframe. She always asked for chips when she was hungry, and it was typically right before the offices closed for the day when she appeared, smiling sweetly like she might actually be told no if she just asked normally. He wasn’t expecting Sammy to come for him, shrugging slightly when explaining that someone was at the bar looking for him. He said all he knew was that it was a woman and she seemed flustered but didn’t want a drink. Ripper washed and dried his hands and followed his co-worker and friend out to the bar. “Teddie? What’s the matter?” Although he knew Teddie, she wasn’t exactly top of the list for people who would interrupt his working day for something. Most of the time when he saw her it was when he was picking up his regular chocolate order for the desserts. They shared a short conversation, flirted ever so slightly sometimes, but then it was done for a week, if not two. That all depended on how many desserts were ordered in O’Malley’s.

• • •

TAGGED! Persephone Theodora Lyons
WORDS! 509!
LYRICS! The Outfield - - - Good Charlotte
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Persephone Theodora Lyons]

Teddie and her team had been working hard on the upcoming birthday extravaganza they'd been hired to put together the desserts for. Chocolate thing, chocolate that. White chocolate, ruby chocolate, milk, dark and everything in between. It was going to be a masterpiece of epic proportions. And it would set up the Chocolate Box as the go-to place for the hoity-toity. All Teddie ever wanted was to make chocolates for people to enjoy. But she really loved sculpting the chocolates into different things and watching as the unveilings happened. This was the biggest job yet, however, and they needed to work pretty much around the clock to make sure it was done in time. Something that she basically had to do alone since most of her staff was still in college or university. It wasn't really a bother, most of the pieces were small but there were just so many of them that she couldn't really keep track. So, whenever she had to be in there alone, she would go wild, making more than she would ever need and then having one of the other staff come in and start their shift counting how many she'd made and how many they actually needed.

It was a compromise since she usually ended up making a couple dozen more than she needed. This had been going on for near to a month now. Working tirelessly, endlessly. Barely making it home and then falling asleep before her head hit the pillow only to get up, shower and do it all over again a few hours later. It was time-consuming but it was incredible and exciting. They were nearing the finish line now, Teddie could see it in her sights. And then she heard the sputter and clunk that never meant anything good. She did a cursory inspection, tried and failed to get it to start up on her own. A couple of her employees fiddled but nothing. So she went to the office and started going through everything, calling every number she could find to see if someone could come out immediately. Nope. Of course not. She started to freak out then. Teddie knew that what was in the fridge would hold out well enough for the time being if they didn't open the fridge but it would eventually start to get warm in there and they needed to deal with that before it happened. She was pacing, thinking about who she could call to help her when she remembered Ripper worked at a restaurant and it was worth a shot. She grabbed her phone and her bag and hollered that she would be back as she rushed through the door. Asking to use someone's work fridges was best done in person.

She made it in record time as it was really only around the corner and approached the bar out of breath, asking to speak with Ripper and that it was very important. Life or death level important. Certainly career suicide if it didn't work out. "A fucking catastrophe." She said, huffing out a breath when he emerged from the back. She'd been on the phone texting everyone she knew about the situation, promising that things were fine but that their orders might be delayed and trying to find someone to come fix it. The problem was that no one could get out until the end of the week and she had a massive order of a god damn chocolate peacock for a birthday scheduled for the same day. They didn't have enough fridge space to deal with that capacity. The fridges for the shop front were different, smaller and only allowed for the little treats and nibbles they made for the displays. They weren't meant for anything huge. "The fridges have gone. I can't get anyone out until the end of the week at the earliest and I have a fucking peacock melting feather by feather. Can you help?" She was working herself up to a panic attack or anxiety. She wasn't much for either of them so she didn't really know the difference. What she did know was that as soon as he found a place to figure this out, she was ordering an industrial-sized fridge for her own damn house. She was hardly there so she didn't need a walk-in fridge but damn it, she had never thought she'd need a backup plan before.

♦ ♦ ♦

TAG; kenneally shannon rippley
WORDS; 735
LYRICS; You Make That Look Good --Scotty McCreery
NOTES; <3