Bill popped the acid at 11:30. He wasn’t going to, but he’d made one of those existential decisions, more like a what-the-hell. He was already playing with his head, using drugs like they were a graphic equalizer. He had popped the black beauties, was drinking bourbon, smoking weed and now the LSD. The worst that could happen, he figured, was he’d end up fall-down messed up like Mary said Yulie used to be. Or they’d be carting him off to the ER with a coronary since he’d put so many stimulants into himself. But that wasn’t likely. More likely was he’d cut himself, or burn himself, or maybe do something really stupid like mess around with one of several people he could mess around with.
He’d walked Lexi out of the meat room and up toward the front stairs that led into the lobby area by the front door. Unless the restaurant was closed, he did not use these stairs. Even when it was closed he generally didn’t use them. Lexi still had to change, or at least fix herself since she was mostly wearing her uniform except for the apron and work shoes. They stopped by her locker and talked. He told her not to worry about Drenovis, that he would speak to Tommy again and get that settled. She stepped very close to him, so close he could smell her perfume. Messed up as he already was—he hadn’t popped the acid yet—he couldn’t help himself. She was like a young flower waiting to be plucked.
“I’m gonna have my way with you, you know.”
“I know,” Lexi reached up and kissed him, once, softly on his lips. “It’s okay. I want you to. I wanted you to even before you stood up for me.”
Bill took her in his arms and kissed her hard, just once.
“I’ll make it nice for you.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
On his way back to the meat room, he’d remembered Henry Lee popping Marie in her face and offering her to him. He remembered Marie offering herself to him that night, and he closed his eyes and pictured her buck naked showing herself off. When it rains, it pours, he’d thought. All those years, even most of his time in college, he’d been mostly without girls. And now…
Up on the line, everything was the same, just another day once they were past the robbery surprise. Mr. Jim was in place. The round was not done yet, but they had roast beef from yesterday to start with. Mary and Mr. Jim had talked about it and Mr. Jim, in his characteristic way, had simply patted Mary on her shoulder and told her not to worry about anything. His soft voice and tender ways soothed an already tense kitchen.
“You all messed up, aren’t’ you?” Mr. Jim took one look at Bill’s eyes and knew right away that he was going to have to guide Bill through the meal. “What the hell you take?”
“He been smoking weed and drinking bourbon.” Henry Lee was greasing the grills with hot oil from the fryers. He was getting ready to cook off some burgers and bleus.
“He probably been taking pills,” Mary said. “Maybe even that LSD shit.”
“You been doing drugs, boy?” Mr. Jim took Bill by his shoulders and shook him.
“Yup,” said Bill. “Gonna be tripping just about by the end of the rush.”
“That’s dangerous, boy. I ought to have Tommy send you home. And don’t think I ain’t telling Robert.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mary looked at Bill. His eyes were like shiny stars, the pupils dilated. “Goddammit it. Losing Yulie was bad enough. Don’t want to lose you too.”
“Give me a kiss,” said Bill. He reached for her.
“Get out of here,” Mary said. “Go downstairs and get me a sack of potatoes. And after that, get me six bags of split peas for tomorrow’s soup. Then you go out in that hall and you hide out. You hear me?”
“Yes, Mommy. I hear you.”
Rose’s Story is now available on Amazon. Pick up a copy today!
Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here
Peter Weiss author page
By the time the first waitresses came in, the police were gone, the kitchen was in full swing and Henry Lee and Bill were busy making the hamburgers and bleus for the lunch. Mr. Bowman had okayed the cleaning company to patch up the skyline and completely service the dining room. Everything was being washed down, the floor power-vacuumed, the linens cleared and replaced. All dishes were being re-run through the machine. Overnight, the skyline would be replaced and reset. As quickly as possible, this would be put to the past. As unobtrusively as possible, business would go on. The fewer the customers who knew about it, the better.
Mary had gotten everything started as quickly as possible, Bill helping her. He had carted the round up and set it in the pan for her. He’d even cut the mirepoix to cover it with.
They’d all heard the screaming from downstairs.
“Goddammit. You did that on purpose.”
“It was an accident. Here, let me get you a towel.”
“Stay the hell away from me. You know how much this suit costs?”
“No but I’ll bet you’re gonna tell me.”
“More than you make in a week, you moron.”
“I may be a moron, but I’m the one with the college degree. You’re stupid.”
“You watch your mouth.”
“Who told you to stand so close?”
“You’re gonna pay for this.”
“You can kiss my ass.”
“I told you watch your mouth.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Bea and Mary had gone to the hall to hear everything clearly. Mr. Bowman was busy with the detectives, but he heard the screaming. Tommy too. He was going to go down to intervene, but Bea and Mary held him back.
Drenovis came up first. Meat blood covered the front of his suit jacket and was on his pants too. His white shirt and his tie were red as well. He was furious, his face as red as the blood on his clothes. He was wiping at everything with a clean kitchen towel he had helped himself to from the linen room.
Bill came up behind Drenovis. He was smiling, almost laughing, but he wiped the smile from his face as he turned the corner and headed into the kitchen.
“You need to change those clothes,” Mary told Drenovis. “It’s bad luck having blood on you.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“You don’t need to be fresh about it.”
“I’m not being fresh.”
“You better not be.”
“Or what?”
“Or you can cook your own lunch here.”
“Didn’t we just have this meeting?” Mr. Bowman stopped dealing with the detective and faced his crew. “Didn’t we?”
No one said a word. Mr. Bowman was referring to the fight they’d had the other day, the one that involved Lexi and Bill, where Bill had stood up to Drenovis and they’d all stood up for Lexi. Tommy just shook his head. He knew something had to be done.
“Now everybody, shut the hell up. Play nicely in the sandbox and get your work done. Drenovis, go get a clean suit while I finish up here. And don’t any of you make me address this again.”
That was that. No one said anything. Drenovis went out to the dining room and must have gone out the front door. Or that’s what Bill surmised when Lexi, still in her Fall jacket, came into the meat room. She was in tears.
“What’s the matter?” Bill asked.
“Drenovis. I ran into him in the parking lot. He told me he hadn’t forgotten anything and he was still going to fire me.”
“Pussy,” Henry Lee said. Then seeing Lexi visibly more upset by what he said, he added, “Not you. Drenovis. He’s a pussy. This is two times now he’s mad at the kitchen and took it out on you. Did you happen to notice he was covered in meat blood?” Henry Lee laughed. “Your boy over here did that. Just wish I was here to see him do it.”
Rose’s Story is now available on Amazon. Pick up a copy today!
Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here
Peter Weiss author page
There was no figuring women out. Bill thought this not while he pleased Mary but shortly after, after he was dressed in his uniform, had popped another black beauty and was upstairs in the kitchen with everyone. The police were there now busy taking pictures and checking things out throughout the whole restaurant. Mr. Bowman and Drenovis were not there yet, but they were on their way.
Bill took himself a coffee, stood over by Bea’s station and looked over her shoulder as she read the racing page in The Dispatch. Tommy was telling the police they got only a few thousand dollars, but there was damage to the office, the safe and the skyline. Mary was drinking her coffee over by her stoves. She needed to get some things working, but without exhaust fans nothing could get lit. So she waited, made sure Tommy knew her situation, was becoming impatient because she did not like running behind.
When he finished his coffee, Bill went over by Mary.
“This sucks,” she said.
“Hell yeah. Let me know what you need from downstairs and I’ll start carting it up.”
“Okay.” She walked over to the menu board and looked at the day. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already know it, but she wanted to refresh her memory and make sure she didn’t forget anything. She took up a scratch pad and pencil and made a list for Bill, then she went to her walk-in and looked at her upstairs shelves to see what she had. She crossed off one item from the list and Bill went on his way.
Bea came in the storeroom while Bill was gathering things. She was dressed in her bra, half-slip, panties and shoes. She had the kitchen dress on but wide open. “I need all dressings if you got time. And if she didn’t put it on your list, we need a bag of onions.”
“What’d they get?”
“Our virginity.”
“Seriously.”
“That is seriously. Police say they been hitting places out here. Same every time. In through a skyline, blow out the safe, out the back door. They always eat, only take cash and never leave fingerprints. They got us for today’s startup money. Tommy says it was about four grand cause he had some deliveries to pay for.”
“That isn’t too bad.” Bill watched as Bea buttoned up her dress.
“Could have been worse. Anyway, no one got hurt.” Bea stepped over to Bill and copped a feel of him. She was totally unshy about it, laughed, pinched his cheek with her free hand. “I’m taking the French dressing,” she said as she withdrew.
“Okay,” Bill said. He watched her take a bottle of French dressing from the case and head off.
He made two trips upstairs for Mary and was in the midst of the third and final one when he heard the exhaust fans kick in. As he reached the kitchen he saw Drenovis and Mr. Bowman huddling with Tommy and the police. Bottom line was they had no clues, no leads and the cops were pretty sure they weren’t getting these guys until they finally made a mistake. Real deal was he would never hear anything more about it.
Drenovis came in the meat room while Bill was taking out the steamship round. Henry Lee had cut it last night, so all Bill had to do was carry it up and set it in the pan for Mary.
“Don’t think I’m forgetting about that shit with Lexi, or whatever her name is.”
Bill was just about to sling the tray the meat was on up to his shoulder. He put it on a cutting block instead. “I got stuff to do.”
“Sooner or later I’m firing both of you.”
“I heard that before. Ain’t you got nothing better to do?”
“Don’t think Robert’s gonna save your ass either.”
Bill didn’t say anything. He looked at the meat tray and saw the blood that had dripped from the meat and collected on the tray. He looked at Drenovis’ suit. He looked from the suit to the blood to the suit several times before he reached for tray.
Rose’s Story is now available on Amazon. Pick up a copy today!
Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here
Peter Weiss author page
Late November chill permeated the air. Smoke came from their mouths with their breaths. Bill sidled up to Mary and pinched her on her butt then said good morning to everyone. Tommy asked if they were ready. He opened the door with his key. Bill went down the hall and switched off the burglar alarm. Mary and Bea behind him, he proceeded into the kitchen. When he flipped on the lights, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Get Tommy,” he said.
“What’s up?” Mary asked.
“Take a look, but get Tommy.
“Aw, shit,” Bea said. “Tommy,” she called out loudly in her deep, smoker’s voice.
They came in from the skyline in the dining room. What Bill, Mary and Bea saw was that they had taken the time to make themselves sandwiches and apparently had stayed in the kitchen to eat them. Remnants from three sandwiches were on Mary’s counter. So were six bottles of beer, all empty.
Tommy found the broken skyline glass. He also found the office safe blown open. The office was a mess and would need some repair, but Tommy had taken the cash with him and made a late-night deposit, something he almost always did. Since the dinner had been so busy, it was a good thing he hadn’t been lazy.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Bea said.
“Don’t touch anything,” Tommy said.
“I’m going down to change,” Bill said.
Bea handed him her keys and he and Mary headed out of the kitchen into the hall.
“Hey Tommy,” Bill called out when he saw the back door was open.
Tommy appeared a moment later. “Maybe they were too full to climb back up the skyline,” he joked.
“Why climb?” said Bill. “Look how easy to get out.”
“Shit,” Tommy said. “I’ll call the police and Mr. Bowman. “Do whatever work you can without touching anything. Don’t light up anything and leave the exhausts off until after the police are here.”
Even before he changed clothes, Bill took a shot of bourbon from the bottle in the bourbon drawer. He felt like a dog each and every time he messed around, and he felt like a dog now. But that did not stop him from doing what he did, and the drugs helped him not have to deal with it. The acid tab was in his locker and he was planning to pop that bad boy around eleven so he would be able to put up the lunch and enjoy the heavy tripping in the lull between lunch and dinner. That might have to be delayed, he thought.
Mary had gone with him into the meat room. She took a small sip of the bourbon, and then she kissed Bill, holding him tight. “I’m horny.”
Bill kissed back. They stood there a moment before he took her hand and they went to the linen closet. He opened it with Bea’s keys and watched Mary take herself a kitchen dress. He took a pair of checkered, kitchen pants and a short-sleeve kitchen shirt. He also grabbed two aprons. Then he took Mary’s hand again and led her into the ladies’ bathroom.
“A quickie, for you,” he said.
He watched Mary get undressed down to her underclothes, then helped her onto the counter by the sink. He kissed her long and hard, their tongues playing with each other like old friends. They were old friends. He and Mary were old friends. Unlike with Lorraine just a few short hours ago, he didn’t need Mary to tell him what she liked or how she liked it. He knew this from experience, knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He also knew they were pretty safe. Tommy wouldn’t be coming downstairs anytime soon, so the only one who might disturb them was Bea. If she did, it wouldn’t matter a bit.
“Come on, baby,” said Mary leaning back against the mirror and positioning her legs. “Help a girl out.”
Rose’s Story is now available on Amazon. Pick up a copy today!
Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here
Peter Weiss author page
Remember the gorilla in Trading Places? Well that was Al Franken, the Senator from Minnesota who licked Obama’s shoes. Literally, that was him. He was the actual actor. In real life, he’s really no better than a gorilla. Feed him bananas and he’ll vote the way you want. As silly as he was in the movie, that’s how silly he is in Congress.
Do you know Master Politician Pelosi, of the self-praise stinks clan? Or teary-eyed Chucky? He’s from the weep-for-effect clan.
Yes, these are our leaders.
But this is not about them. Truly, they are despicable. They are unconscionable liars and they are hypocrites who are mostly immoral, self-serving beasts. Why they keep being elected is beyond any sensibility whatsoever.
But really this is not about them. This is about the elephants in the room.
I know. Maybe it’s a mixed metaphor. Maybe not. Turns out, though, as far as our leaders go, there’s not much difference. They’re all a barrel of monkeys.
This really is about the elephants. McConnell should be ashamed of his inability to rally his majority and pass repeal and replace. You know, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, shame on us all and a pox on your house. Now it’s on to tax reform and smart money says Ryan and McConnell don’t perform here either.
Then there’s John McCain. It’s clear that his personal dislike of President Trump is more important than his responsibility to his job. Ditto with Lindsay Graham. Ditto for Ted Cruz, Rand Paul, and on and on.
So the Senate’s approval rating, which was under ten percent, sits now at about fifteen percent. The Republican voters, according to a recent poll, aren’t angry at President Trump, but they are angry at Congress and they blame Congress for nothing having gotten done.
Here’s the overriding metaphor for our wonderful Republican representatives: sixty times they overwhelmingly voted to repeal and replace Obamacare when their vote was symbolic and meaningless because Obama was president and they didn’t have the votes to override his veto of any bill they would send. Then they punked out of doing what they were elected to do when they have the power to do it simply because of their own individual personal self-interests.
What a bunch of goons. What a bunch of loons.
So we come to the bottom line. Our government no longer serves the interests of the American people. The Republicans, like the Democrats, are all monkeys dancing for the bananas thrown at them by the big money interests. They adhere only to the tenets of Social Darwinism. Their only goal is reelection. They will say and do anything for that and spin their actions in the finest, prettiest jargon they can pay their publicists to write for them. Overall, they are filled with hubris and driven by greed and selfishness.
Even a broken clock is right twice a day. In Shakespeare (although the monkeys in education have deemed he no longer be read, minimizing and marginalizing one of the most astute recorders of human nature ever), wisdom and truth come from the clowns, the jesters and the blind. Not that President Trump is any of those, and whether you like him or not or agree with his policies or not, he is surely right that we must drain the swamp. Getting rid of the barrel of monkeys, in this case the elephants in the room would be a good start.
Term limits are certainly in order.
Rose’s Story is now available on Amazon. Pick up a copy today!
