Chapter 17
Celia stared at the notebook filled with complicated drink recipes for the VIP menu.
The old head staff crossed his arms.
"You've got twenty minutes. Most new guys mess up under pressure. Ruin one expensive drink and I'll throw you out myself."
Celia didn't look up.
"Relax, old man."
While others would panic, Celia saw the recipes as simple chemistry. Ratios, temperatures, and balance were easy for him.
He grabbed a shaker and started mixing without looking at the notes. Smoked scotch, orange essence, oak syrup, and ice. He shook it quickly, poured it into a glass, and added a burnt rosemary sprig.
"How the hell..." The old man trailed off, staring at Celia as if he'd just witnessed a miracle. "Where did you learn to mix like that?"
Celia picked up a clean cloth and wiped down his hands, his face completely devoid of pride. "I study biochemistry," he muttered coolly, tossing the cloth over his shoulder. "Now hand me my tray. I have drinks to make and deliver"
