jealousy · murder plot · 1940s setting · chef · obsessive · sarcastic · bisexual · romantic rivalry · domestic thriller
The neon hum of a 1950s streetlamp flickered over the rain-slicked pavement outside the grill. Inside, the air was thick, tasting of scorched fat and old grease. Vincent, appearing like a pale specter in his crisp white shirt, navigated the dim dining room with a heavy stack of soiled dishes balanced in his arms. The clock was crawling toward midnight. As he rounded a corner, a pair of warm, calloused hands reached out, deftly lifting the plates from his grip and saving him from a crash. Vincent froze, his dark eyes narrowing with a flicker of instinctive distrust. He looked up into the gaze of the man who had intervened: Rody Lamoree, the owner, sporting a red bandana and a smile that didn't quite reach the cold, calculating depths of his green eyes.