Chapter Text
Jyn Erso looked at the April raindrops that dotted the tinted window of the bus. The glass felt cool against her forehead as she watched the newly bloomed tree greenery pass by in a blur. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she was on her way to a life she wasn’t sure she wanted. Whether this opportunity was a blessing or a curse was yet to be determined but with her track record, she was inclined to expect the latter. It always turned to shit in the end. This opportunity, however, appeared to be her last chance.
Jyn had a reputation. Rumors circulated that she was fiery, irritable, unhinged, and difficult to work with. Her talent in the kitchen, however, her passion and knack for pairing seemingly incompatible flavor profiles with ease, allowed some to employ her, at least for a while. That had changed about a year ago when the sous chef was blacklisted from most high-end restaurants on the East coast when word of an incident with her executive chef made the rounds. He had needed both stitches in his groin and the tip of a finger reattached. She had needed a new job far away.
She had hidden in the mountains of West Virginia as a line cook at a rapidly dying resort. She had enjoyed the anonymity of living in such a place but had grown restless and tired of simple menu items. She was more ahi tuna with crispy sweet potato tempura and a wasabi aioli than chicken tenders and French fries, after all.
Which is why she had agreed to move back to New York to take over at Alderaan for her late, one-time mentor and renowned chef Saw Gerrera. Even though they had not spoken in years due to the fact that he had essentially abandoned her six years prior, he had been more of a parent to her than her own father. Thus, she felt obligated to at least try to lead the team at the farm to table concept restaurant that had won numerous awards and accolades for not only its impeccable food but also its relative affordability to the average person.
…………………………
Mon Mothma was dressed in her usual gleaming white pantsuit, a garment that appeared to be both fitted and flowing and also seemingly repelled stain of any kind even though the bombardment of restaurant mess was constant. Jyn eyed her sitting across the desk in the Alliance Restaurant Group office in the rear of Alderaan and listened to her calm pitch, “He put it in writing and verbalized it to me before he died. He wanted you to succeed him.”
With a look of skepticism, Jyn spoke warily, “I just…we just didn’t talk. At all. Not since he decided not to promote me to his sous. I just have a hard time thinking that I, of all people, am who he wanted for this.”
Mon Mothma just nodded her head with pursed lips and slid a piece of paper across the desk. Jyn reluctantly picked it up.
Mon,
As it appears that I am no longer able to carry out my duties at the restaurant and am apparently not long for this world, I ask that I may make a suggestion as to Alderaan’s future. I wish for Jyn Erso to succeed me as Executive Chef. She has always had great instincts with food, perhaps it is in her blood, perhaps in her upbringing. Alliance needs to expand to something better. Take more risks, diversify. She is the right person for this mission. Although I do not regret the staffing decision that drove a wedge between us, I do regret the wedge itself. Perhaps this will be of some consolation.
You are obviously not obligated to fulfill my opinion but this is my wish.
Saw Gerrera
Jyn sat, eyes paralyzed on the page before her. She was filled with a conflicting sense of profound sadness and prickly anger. She was desperately fighting back the tears that forced her eyes to blur. Even in death, he was callous but she felt the grief of his loss creep up into her throat all the same.
“I have obviously abided by his wishes,” Mothma calmly broke the tense silence, “That being said, I own only half of Alliance Restaurant Group and therefore, there is a bit of a caveat.”
Jyn’s eyes quickly darted up to meet Mothma’s, a sense of panicked confusion sweeping over her. Before Jyn could demand the answers to the questions flowing through her brain, a firm triple knock came at the door.
“Ah,” sighed Mothma, looking past Jyn’s chair to greet the incoming intruders, “That’ll be the caveat.”