“Actually, I’ll kiss your ass if you want” Marie said. “Happily too.” She was standing next to Bill, both of them facing the grill and leaning on the steam table shelf.
“I can kiss yours too.”
“I been waiting, white boy.”
“Another beer or two and I might just do it tonight.”
“I won’t fight you. I might bite you though.”
“I might bite back.”
“Promises, promises.” Marie sucked the top of her beer bottle suggestively, then laughed. Bill shrugged, dragged on his cigarette then turned the one steak that was on the grill.
Bill had lined up the other steaks to put on when it was time, but that wasn’t even close yet. All the dinners took baked and veggies, so when he’d turned the one steak again, he went to the back where all the food from the steam table was sitting waiting to be put into the walk-in. He took one fry pan and filled it with vegetables, took another and ladled in au jus. He brought the two fry pans around to the line and set them on the charcoal grill, one side of which he’d relit. Then he went back to the back and grabbed six baked potatoes which he brought around front. These he would place in the Dutch oven, which was a top compartment on the Garland, when he put the other steaks on.
All that done, and everything set, he made one last trip to the back where he cut two slices of prime rib using one of Mary’s cutting boards to work on. These he put on a small tray and carried them around to the line.
Now he was all set. He turned the King again and again, flipped it, re-flipped it, turned it some more. Because he was impatient now, and because the grills were very hot since they were empty, he finally took the steak, put it on a cold sizzler and put the sizzler into the Dutch oven. There, the steak could cook like it was baking and would finish more quickly without burning.
Marie had finished her station again, for the third time. She had covered everything, wiped away any spills, closed the metal cover of her salad station, a cover that slid over everything like the old roll-top desks with the rounded covers that went up and down. Satisfied she had nothing more to do, she went to stand by Bill and help him however she could.
Bill rang the bell. Almost immediately, Victoria came into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Let me know when you’re ready for the ribs. And bring in two more beers.”
Victoria didn’t say anything. She just went out the door. Bill, using a kitchen towel so as not to get burned, opened the Dutch oven. He flipped the steak with his tongs then shut the oven door. It was almost time to put the other steaks on the grill. But before he did, just because he felt like it, he reached for Marie and kissed her. As they kissed—she kissed back eagerly—he reached up under her kitchen dress and slipped his hand under her panties.
“Hey,” she said, “Victoria be coming back in in a minute.”
“And…”
“And I don’t want to get seen. I’d like to get done, but I don’t want to get seen.”
Bill didn’t hurry away from her. Only when he heard the sound of the automatic doors did he stop and go back to work.
Victoria left the two beers on his cutting board without saying anything.
“You ready for the ribs?” Bill asked.
“In about five minutes.”
“Push them along,” Bill said.
“I’ll do my best, hon,” Victoria said.
