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“Would you ever consider getting a tattoo?” Carmy asks as he takes inventory of their produce. Syd looks at him with questioning eyes, “I promise there’s a point I’m getting to.”
“I think it’s a bit too late for me to start asking that question,” Sydney says as she writes something down on her clipboard about which fruits they need to restock.
It’s Carmy’s turn to look confused, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if I didn’t want a tattoo, I probably shouldn’t have gotten one 7 years ago.”
“You already have a tattoo?” He tries to envision every memory he has of Syd, wracking his mind for any hint of ink on her skin.
Her at Ever in a sleeveless top that let him see the entirety of her toned arms. That day her AC went out and she came to work wearing shorts and he had to go into the office to scold himself for looking at her never-ending legs just a second too long. When she was too tired to unbutton the entirety of her chef’s coat in the locker room after a painfully slow service, opting just to pull it over her head and revealing most of her stomach when the white t-shirt she had underneath came with it. No markings came to mind.
“Tattoos actually. Plural.”
“What?! Where?”
A playful smile spreads across her face as she turns to leave the walk-in, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I mean, yes?” He ruffles his hands through his hair, slightly jogging to catch up and hold the door open for her, “I feel like I should’ve already known. You own a restaurant with me and are probably my best friend, yet I don’t know about something so meaningful you decided to put it permanently on yourself?”
“Who said they’re so meaningful? Maybe they’re like this one,” Sydney points to the drawing of a snail on his right arm.
“Shut the fuck up,” Carmy laughs, “And that one does have meaning.”
“Uh-huh,” She nods, sarcasm evident in her tone.
“It does!” He traces the words underneath the picture with his thumb Live Fast.
“Alright, alright.” She surrenders with a snort.
“Now are you going to answer my question?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure if that’s something I want to reveal to someone I’m only ‘probably’ best friends with,” Sydney teases. “Who am I competing with for the number one spot, Fak or Richie?”
“Okay, you're my best friend. Are you happy?”
“Mmm, now that I think about it there wasn’t much competition,” Sydney says after tossing her head side-to-side in contemplation.
“All this deflection is making me think these tattoos don’t exist,” Carmy retorts instead of justifying her with a response.
She debates her next words before relinquishing, “Fine, they’re on my back. Are you happy?”
His eyes squint as he tries to read her, “Prove it.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll just take my shirt off right here in the middle of the kitchen. Sure,” she deadpans.
Carmy flushes, not thinking of the implications until she voiced them. “No, no. Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
She rolls her eyes, grabs the collar of her shirt, and pulls it down enough so that he can see the top of her 3 of swords tattoo, “Proof enough for you?”
Carmy, blush still prominent, resists the urge to reach out and gently caress the expanse of her ink-covered skin, “I guess I’ll believe you.”
She lifts her shirt back up, “What was the point of all this again?”
Carmy’s eyes were still locked onto the place he now knows delicate lines are before realizing he was staring. When he still doesn’t respond, she turns around and he remembers she asked a question. “What?”
“The point? You said you had one.”
“Right!” His flush deepened, “I’m– It’s kind of stupid, actually. I was just going to– I was thinking of getting something done, you know?” He squints like he does when he’s vulnerable, “The star thing, it’s– I guess it means a lot to me. I thought I’d get it tattooed… to remember it.”
She raises her eyebrows and nods, “Yeah, for sure. It is a big achievement.”
“Yeah, and it’s yours too. I wouldn’t–,” he pauses to let out the breath he’s been holding, “None of this would be possible without you.”
“Even though I almost left?” She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Especially because you almost left,” he shakes his head, “That was the call I needed to get my head out of my ass.”
“That’s actually a good point,” Sydney laughs.
“Don’t sound so shocked, I can make a good point every once in a while.”
“After the year we’ve had?” She sucks her teeth and rocks her hand in a ‘so-so’ gesture.
“Okay, okay. I deserved that,” His smile fades to something more earnest. “I was also thinking, considering we wouldn’t have a star without you and all, you might want to get one too?”
“Are you asking me to get a matching tattoo with you?”
“Maybe?” He tries to gauge her reaction, “Just a star.”
She considers this, “Would it make us assholes if we got Michelin star tattoos?”
“Probably,” Carmy shrugs, “But I feel like if you have a Michelin star you get to be a little bit of an asshole.”
Sydney smiles, “Fuck it, I’m in.”
–––✻–––
“What are you doing next Sunday?” Carmy asks four days later as he peels the potatoes they need for that night’s service.
“Probably sleeping for 12 hours straight,” Sydney grabs a freshly peeled potato from him and starts chopping, “and then I think I’m going to dinner with my dad.”
“Celebrating?” He asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah,” she says, a goofy smile spreading across her face at the thought. “I think he might be more excited than I am.”
He instantly looks up to her, eyebrows raised, “I don’t think that’s possible.”
When they got the call they were in the middle of preservice, Carmy begrudgingly went to the office to answer the phone after it had been ringing nonstop. When they told him who was calling, he’d begged them to shut up and give him a second in between yelling for Syd. As soon as she ran in, he put the phone on speaker and handed it to her.
When Carmy got his 3-star call in New York all he felt was dread and panic, but getting the call for The Bear was different. When they told them, Sydney jumped into his arms and he held her for a few seconds while she laughed into his neck. When her feet were back on the ground she pulled back to look into his eyes, hers brimming with tears. She did a little happy dance with her shoulders before pulling him back into another hug.
With his arms full of Sydney, Carmy found it difficult to be anything but elated.
“Maybe not,” she chuckled, thinking of the memory herself, “but it’s pretty close.”
“Okay, so dinner with your dad,” he nods, eyes focused on his work. “What about after that?”
“Um, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t thought that far,” she shrugs. “What about you? Any plans?”
“I was going to schedule that tattoo appointment if you wanna come with,” he tries to sound casual. “Unless you changed your mind or you want to go by yourself or something.”
“What? No,” She looks up and bumps his shoulder, “What’s the point of getting matching tattoos if you don’t even get them together?”
He sighs a breathy laugh of relief, “Yeah. So, Sunday night?”
“I don’t know. How long is your tattoo shop open on a Sunday? I might not get home until, like, 8:00. Unless I cancel on my dad, and I don’t think I can do that again.”
“No, no definitely don’t do that. I know the owner, he can keep it open. It’s, uh-” He pauses, “It’s Kenny Fak.”
She stops what she’s doing and shoots daggers with her eyes, “You must be out of your damn mind if you think I’d willingly agree to get a tattoo from a Fak.”
“He’s done a couple of mine, like, half of Neil’s, and Richie’s. And I did my research, he’s good I promise.” He doesn’t mention that he’d spent the better half of his time off the past few days looking through Kenny’s work and reviews, paying attention to his ink work on different complexions, and had even visited Kenny under the guise of dropping off a sandwich just to be sure his shop was at least in semi-decent shape before he brought Syd.
“Against my better judgment, I’m going to trust you.”
“Good,” he nods. “I can pick you up from your apartment, it’s on my way there.” He wonders if he’s being too forward, so he adds, “If you want.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sydney agrees.
“I’ll tell Kenny we’ll be there at nine. I can be at your place at 8:40. Does that work?”
Sydney’s eyes go wide and he again wonders if he’s being too obvious about the crush he’s been nursing, but the sound of her voice interrupts his spiraling.
“Perfect, Sunday at 8:40.”
–––✻–––
Carmy gets there 30 minutes early. He’d been aiming for 5, but as the time got closer he grew more and more anxious, then he started thinking of all the things that could happen to make him late and before he knew it, he was parked in front of Sydney’s apartment complex.
He thought about going through all his missed calls and voicemails but took one look at the number on the red notification bubble and abandoned that idea, opting to fiddle with the lighter he still kept in his pocket despite the fact that it had been months since his last smoke.
He hoped he wouldn’t look like a loser sitting by himself in his car for so long… or even worse, a creep. But ten minutes later, Sydney was walking out of her building and leaning against the wall of her building.
He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. They really need to learn how to stop being so early to everything.
He pulls out his phone and sends her a quick I’m here text before going back to watching her.
Sydney perks up when she checks her phone and starts looking around for the van. Carmy helps by stepping out and waving his arm until she sees him, her smile noticeably brightening.
He debates opening the door for her but goes back and forth so many times that she's already walked to him and is pulling the handle before he can make a decision.
“Hey,” Carmy says once they’re both inside.
“Hi,” Sydney replies, eyes shining.
“How was dinner with your dad?” He asks as he pulls out of the parking space after double-checking that Sydney has her seatbelt on.
“Good! We went to that diner on Broadway, I got the feta chicken it was pretty fire.”
“Sounds delicious,” He says and she nods in response.
“Mm!” Her head whips toward him as she remembers something. “I forgot to tell you, last night Ben pulled me aside. Said he was thinking about leaving.”
“Fuck. Is it– Do you think it’s because of what happened on Thursday?”
“No shit, Carm.”
“Fuck. That’s on me,” He grips onto the steering wheel harder. “I swear, Syd, I’m really trying.”
“I see that and, like, it is better. But even if it is one meltdown a month, it’s still too much, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll work on it,” he sighs. “Did you convince him to stay?”
“Obviously,” she jokes, but he knows it’s true from experience. Carmy is an expert in doing whatever Sydney says. “If you’re really dedicated to that working on it thing though, I definitely think an apology would help.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. I owe you an apology too. I’m sorry, Sydney.”
“I already accepted your apology on Thursday. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“And also thank you for always dealing with my fuck ups and supporting the staff. We really–”
“Okay, dude,” she cuts him off. “How many times do I have to forgive you?”
“I just-,” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to always follow behind me and fix my shit.”
“Well maybe stop breaking shit.”
Carmy chuckles and shakes his head, “Heard.”
They sit in comfortable silence, listening to the whoosh of cars passing under the low hum of the radio until Sydney suddenly straightens in her seat. “Carm, we just passed your apartment.”
“Huh?” He sees that she’s craning her neck to stare at his building as they pass by and processes her words. “Oh, yeah.”
“I thought you said it was on your way?”
He shrugs and changes the subject, earning an eye roll from her.
They are, as expected, extremely early when they arrive at the tattoo shop marked by a sign with “KENNY’S Tattoos and Piercings” written in glowing letters.
Carmy rests his hand against the back of Sydney’s seat as he parallel parks into a spot across the street. He notices her shaky exhale of breath as he removes his arm to turn off the engine and he stares at her trembling fingers in contemplation.
“You nervous?” Carmy asks her.
“Huh?” Syd’s eyes go wide at the question. “No.”
“Syd, I can tell you’re nervous,” he says gently. He watches her fumble for a response before he continues. “If you changed your mind that’s fine. Or if it’s because you’re still not sure about Kenny I’ll go first and if it's is total ass I’ll get you the fuck out of there.”
“Right, the tattoo,” she sighs a breath of relief. “Yeah. Yes- or no. No, I haven’t changed my mind; yes, I’m sure. I will let you go first though, if you’re offering.”
Carmy smiles at that. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yes, I’m good,” Sydney replies, he looks into her eyes to evaluate the truth of it. “Alright, are we just going to sit in here all night? Let’s go.”
“Fuck,” He curses under his breath as the needle makes contact with his skin, “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten one of these.”
Sydney snorts at the grimace that found its way to his face and he shoots her a look.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Syd asks in a tone that’s too coddling to be genuine.
“Yeah I might,” he jokes back, but a part of him hopes she commits to the bit and reaches out to grab him. To his disappointment, she just laughs and rolls her eyes.
“In your defense, I heard getting your knuckles tattooed is, like, super painful,” Sydney says as she watches the needle pierce his skin. “Because there’s not a lot of fat or muscles there or something. At least that’s what Neil told me.”
“Yeah, it’s not–” Carmy hisses as the needle reaches a sensitive spot on his skin, “not great.”
He can tell Syd is just talking to distract him, and she’s somewhat successful. But he’d really rather be talking more about her than going over the logistics of why the needle jamming into his skin hurts.
“When your dad–,” he begins before the buzzing of the tattoo gun stops and he’s cut off.
“Okay, champ, how's it look?” Kenny asks as he cleans off the tattoo for the final time.
Carmy raises his hand to eye level and checks it. Like he told Sydney while reassuring her Kenny wouldn’t maul her skin, it’s pretty hard to mess up a single-shape linework tattoo. The template was followed precisely, the thickness of the line was evenly dispersed, and it seemed like he used the right amount of pressure.
“Tremendous,” Carmy replies, holding his hand out for Sydney to see it as well.
This time she does take his hand, steadying it between hers and observing it closely. He feels his heart rate speed up and hopes she can’t feel his quickening pulse through his fingertips.
“Yeah, looks great,” she says, nodding in approval.
“Alright, let’s get this wrapped up,” Kenny says as he pulls out a roll of Saniderm from his drawer. “Chef Sydney, where were you thinking for yours?”
“Um, on my back,” she tries her best to point to the general location. “Around here somewhere?”
“Awesome, go ahead and adjust your shirt and get yourself comfortable while I get everything ready.”
“Okay, just… Turn around or something until I say,” Sydney says, looking a little flustered. “I’m trying really hard not to flash my business partner and my employees’ brother in one fell swoop.”
“Right,” Carmy replies, grateful that in turning away he’d also get to cover the red creeping onto his cheeks.
“Okay, I’m good now,” He hears Syd from behind him after a beat of silence.
When Carmy faces her again, it’s not nearly as weird as he imagined it would be. She’s still wearing her baggy jazz graphic t-shirt, but she pulled the back of it over her head so the rest of her is still covered with only her back exposed.
He immediately notices the very real tattoos that are littered across her back. Before he can ask about any of them, she starts speaking.
“Can you Facetime me when he puts on the stencil so I can make sure it’s in the spot I want?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” Carmy replies, then under his breath adds, “Control freak.”
“Hey! I heard that! There’s nothing wrong with wanting perfection. You should know all about that,” she says indignantly as she turns down the volume on her phone to avoid audio feedback. “Now answer the damn call.”
Once the placement is determined and the area is prepped, the buzzing of the tattoo gun returns. When the needle reaches her, her brows furrow for a second before she masks the sting and her face returns to a neutral expression. He decides to repay her and be a distraction anyway.
“I like your tattoos, by the way,” He stares at the images, “This one reminds me of when I was at The French Laundry.”
“I don’t have eyes at the back of my head, Carm. Which one?”
Rather than tell her, he takes the opportunity to softly touch her. The heat of his fingertips burns through her, right where she knows a doodle of a broken wishbone is. She takes a little intake of breath and blames it on the tattoo gun. For the first time, Carmy isn’t sure if he believes her.
Kenny wipes away some of the excess ink on her back and she uses the time to adjust her position so her arms are folded in front of her, her head resting on top of them and facing toward Carmy. “Why?”
“When I first started staging at The French Laundry, Chef Keller taught me how to take out a wishbone,” Carmy puts his elbow on the armrest of his chair and lays his head on the palm of his hand so he can look into Sydney’s eyes when he speaks to her, “The proper way to take it out that leaves the bone perfectly clean.”
She hums in response, “And now you’re the best wishbone remover in the business?”
“No. I actually–,” he smiles and shakes his head as he reminisces, “as soon as he turned around, I completely ignored him and started yanking them out.”
Sydney laughs genuinely, the kind of laugh that shakes her shoulders and makes Kenny reprimand her for moving too much.
“So you’ve always been a little shit?” She asks when she recovers.
“Yeah, pretty much. I just wanted to do everything as quickly as possible,” He shrugs, “Chef Keller, he um– He told me it was all about nurturing. At the time I was like, fuck how messy the bone looks. If it was fast, I was doing it that way,” He looks to the floor and two little creases form between his eyebrows as more memories flood his thoughts.
“Then when I worked at Empire, David Fields was… the total opposite,” Carmy frowns, “That man probably doesn’t even know what nurture means. And because of that I just kept thinking about that fucking wishbone and Chef Keller. I became obsessed with wishbones for a minute, just drawing them all the time. I’d write and rewrite the steps of how to remove them. It was grounding in a sense.”
He suddenly becomes aware that Sydney is still there listening to him ramble his way through memory-tied feelings he hasn’t thought about in forever, watching him with intent.
He ruffles his hands through his hair and looks at the tiny wishbone on her back again, speaking directly to it, “I guess it makes more sense that you have it tattooed.”
It doesn’t take an expert to decipher who’s the more nurturing figure of the pair.
Carmy could see it in how Sydney mentored the staff, gently going through the motions of a difficult dish with Tina and watching Syd’s guiding words relax Tina’s shoulders despite the growing pressure in the kitchen. He could see it in the way she took care of people. He could see it in the meticulous way she prepared her dishes, always placing each component in the perfect position.
Mostly, he could see it in the calm she spread wherever she went, grounding him in the same way sketching wishbones had.
Sydney watches him, dissecting his words, “Well, I’m glad you like it.” Her tone is gentle, but measured in a way Carmy can’t quite read.
“I do,” He goes back to making eye contact with her, “It’s fire, chef.”
Chef. Carmy’s tried and true method of staying professional with her when he so desperately wanted to push that boundary.
“How’s it looking back there?” Sydney asks.
“Really, really good,” Carmy answers without hesitation.
“Yeah, we’re just about done here,” says Kenny as his needle meets back where he started. He grabs two mirrors so she can try to see it, but Carmy also takes a picture for her.
“Perfect,” she zooms in and nods in approval. “I’m sorry, no disrespect, but thank god.”
“Thank you?” Kenny asks more than says, unsure if it’s a compliment or not.
“No, thank you,” Sydney returns.
Kenny makes quick work of applying the bandage to Syd while talking them through aftercare instructions. By the time they’ve paid, grabbed their stuff, and exchanged goodbyes it’s only just past 9:15.
“That was a lot quicker than I expected,” Carmy says as he holds open the door.
“Yeah, I had a lot more time blocked out for this,” Sydney agrees after she checks the time on her phone.
Carmy and Sydney had slowly been getting back into the groove of spending time together after she signed the partnership agreement. He’d missed getting to talk to her about her dad, or her craziest kitchen stories, or her favorite parts of the city.
Granted, the only times he would hang out with Syd was if he had the barrier of it being something work-related. Menu testing at his apartment, grocery shopping at the farmers market, or finding “inspiration” at restaurants.
None of it helped the fact was that what he really wanted was to ask her to do something with him that had nothing to do with The Bear. Something past the line of professional. Maybe even past the line of platonic.
They both awkwardly stand outside the building, waiting to see where they go from here.
“I’m not even remotely tired yet,” Sydney says.
“Me neither.” They both need to wake up early to review the new menu before showing it to the staff. “Tomorrow is going to be hell.”
“Oh a hundred percent,” Sydney laughs. “I would see if you have any sleeping advice but I’m pretty sure you’re the worst person to ask.”
“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep I’ll go to Lake Michigan, watch the water. It doesn’t really help but it’s something to do.”
"Would you want to-," Syd starts, but he doesn't need to hear the rest of the question to know his answer.
"Yes." They walk to the car together, this time Carmy opens the door for her.
They sit on the beach side by side. He doesn't mind that he'll probably find sand in the pockets of the nice jeans he'd picked out the next five times he wears them.
“Damn,” Sydney says after a moment of silence. “I wish we could see the stars. Fucking… light pollution.”
“Fuck light pollution,” Carmy says in support, much to Syd’s amusement.
She keeps looking up anyway, trying to catch a twinkle in the sky.
“You like stars,” He says it like a statement. She directs her attention at him, nodding brightly. “I guess I should’ve known from that scarf you have with the stars on it.”
A quick expression of shock sweeps across Syd's face, like she's surprised he noticed. She recovers and goes back to the topic. “Oh yeah, I love that shit. I think I checked out every book about stars at my elementary school's library. If we could actually see them I might even still be able to point out some constellations.”
“So it’s not just Michelin stars you're obsessed with?” Carmy quips.
“Oh fuck off,” she laughs.
Carmy fills with pride. He’d never thought of himself as funny but getting to hear that distinctive sound and knowing it was him who caused it made him wish he was a goddamn comedian.
He knows he must be staring because her smile fades and she looks away, grabbing her phone. “Oh shit, it’s getting late. We should probably head back”
He offers to drive her home despite the train station still being open, tells her it’s “on his way,” to which Sydney responds with a playful shove.
“This was really nice. I had fun,” Carmy says and is rewarded with a toothy grin.
“Me too,” Sydney says while dusting off her pants.
“We should do this again.”
“What? Get another tattoo?”
He rolls his eyes, a smile on his lips. “No, this. Spending time together.”
“Yeah. Normal friends do that, right?”
He hesitates but in a moment of courage lets himself say what he’s really thinking. “Maybe… maybe not as friends.”
“No?” She questions, urging him to say more.
Usually, he would backpedal. Make an excuse and avoid fucking up any further, but a hint of hope in her eyes encourages him. He shakes his head and he’s squinting again. “I was thinking like a date?”
He’s ready to rescind the offer, apologize, and never make eye contact again, but she beams at him. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sydney assures and looks to the floor to cover the embarrassingly large smile that he can see spreading onto her face, Carmy rubs his knuckles against his lips to suppress his. “Next Sunday?”
“Fuck, that’s far away.”
“Well, we can’t both be gone from the restaurant and that’s our next day off.”
“Fuck,” He repeats. “You’re right.”
“What do you want to do?” Sydney asks, always the planner. “I heard there’s a new restaurant that just opened in Naperville that’s supposed to be pretty good.”
He shakes his head, “Feels too much like working.”
“I genuinely can’t think of what people do outside of eating or cooking. What do you suggest?”
“Literally anything else. Movies?” Carmy offers before a better idea comes to mind and he pauses. “We could go to the Adler Planetarium? I mean, it’s not like real stars but, could be nice?”
“Okay. Planetarium on Sunday.” She nods her head in agreement and he returns it. Her face lights up, matching the excitement he's feeling. “It’s a date.”
Carmy doesn’t say it, but he thinks there are stars in Sydney’s eyes, and maybe he’s starting to grow an affinity for them too.