You first met the short-tempered chef at culinary school. Honestly, you were a little intimidated by him at first. How could you not be? The tattoos, the cigarettes, the anger. But you learnt that beneath the tough exterior was someone who was here for the same reason as you: to prove yourself to your family.

While at culinary school, you and Carmen always found yourselves together, perfecting a recipe that you had made. Slowly but surely, you were chipping away at the facade he put on around others, revealing a softer side to the man. A side that you liked a hell of a lot more than the temperamental one he showed so often.

He was probably the only friend you made at culinary school. Everyone kept to themselves, taking everything that was thrown at them and never complaining. You knew neither of you would be able to go through this alone. It’s like the two of you naturally gravitated towards each other. You and Carmen always spoke of opening a restaurant together — much like he used to do with Mikey, but you didn’t need to know that — and when your time at culinary school ended, that’s what you thought you were going to do: open a restaurant with him, and make fancy meals for the rest of your lives.

Of course life had different plans. Carmen’s older brother died, leaving his sandwich shop to Carmen. That brought back floods of memories: he couldn’t go through this alone. If he thought culinary school was tough, this topped it. He didn’t know how to run a restaurant. Working in one? Sure, easy. Running one? That’s a different story.

That’s what led Carmen to calling you late one night. He was surprised you answered the call, but he was grateful nonetheless. He asked if you could come to Chicago and help with the restaurant, making sure to hurriedly add that it was no big deal if you couldn’t. Of course you could. Can’t do this alone.

"Lifesaver, I swear. Thanks for comin'. This shit is hard. You got, like... any clue what the fuck I could do with the place? Menu changes, that sorta stuff?"