"Why is there fucking Ke$ha playing in the kitchen?" Steven complained loudly on his way in.
"Shut the fuck up, dickwad. Manny put the radio on. Don't lie, I've seen you do your drag show to this shit." The words spilled out of Adam's mouth a mile a minute, and that was about as fast as he was moving too. "We need some like... strippers in here if we're gonna listen to this shit. Think Geller would let us have strippers?"
"Burlesque queens only, and I hear they have standards. What the fuck are you doing?"
"Bread."
"Why?"
"Because I'm getting to know the oven, nosy."
Steven decided he didn't want to know just how intimately Adam knew their industrial equipment, so he backed off to get a status report from Manny. They'd all been getting to know the kitchen, making sure it was set up to their standards and Geller's, and getting to know the menu, the vendors. Absolutely everything needed to be in place and ready before they opened those doors officially.
Adam grabbed his iPod and plugged it into the speakers and put The Lonely Island on. As soon as the first song started, Rosie started ranting up a storm.
Over the past several weeks the restaraunt had been either in the final phases of interior decorating, or the crew had been somewhat leaderless. Nevermind Geller's disappearence, Adam and Steven had been gone as well on an impromptu errand to Brazil. No one really asked questions, thankfully, but now that they were back things were being whipped into shape. A week or two ago they'd noticed Geller was distinctively MIA, which, even in their crew, was a little unusual. No calls, texts, harassing messages. Then Adam nearly blew up one of the ovens and that had sufficiently distracted him from attempting to find their boss until some call came through from a local hospital.
"Adam, finish that up so we can bring it with us."
"I will cut you, motherfucker. What do you think I'm doing?"
"Think you can smuggle something interesting in one of those loaves?" Steven leaned on the immaculate counter. His personal habits outside the kitchen might be questionable, but there would never be a fucking cockroach in any kitchen he worked in.
"I don't think Geller is gonna want weed." Adam looked like he was seriously considering it anyway. "Maybe a midget..."
"Weed is exactly what a man in a hospital needs. And maybe what? No-- I don't want to know. But we would be failures as friends and business associates if we let him eat hospital food. I think it might offend his pallate to the point of needing corrective surgery."
"Jello's not so bad." Adam nudged his glasses back up his nose, entirely unconcerned by the idea of going to the hospital covered in flour and God knew what else.
"There's no accounting for taste." Sometimes even Steven wondered why it was God chose Adam to bless with this unnatural talent. But at least there was never, ever a dull moment on this crew.
He was worried about Geller, even if he'd never actually say it out loud. That's why the trip to the hospital was happening at all. He disagreed with them on principle, something about drug tests and cops and he had no idea how he was going to get Adam, looking as psychotic as he did, past the front desk. Then again, he'd never met a nurse he couldn't charm, at least not yet. They'd find out what happened soon enough, he supposed. At least he was back.
