Fun with words and words for fun

Monthly Archives: October 2018

kitchen-4

Victoria and Tommy came in together. Tommy asked for a piece of rib and when Bill had fixed him his plate and he’d left the kitchen, he told her to bring him in two beers. She said okay. As she went out, Lorraine came in. She had dinner orders and since Bill was standing there, she just handed them to him, a four-top and a deuce, he saw as he read them.

“Shit,” he said. Gonna be here really late.”

“Me too. Tommy asked me to stay with Victoria till closing. Everyone else is cashing out. I saw more people coming in too.”

“Well, good thing all I have to do is strain the grease tonight.”

“You can sleep over if you want. I mean the girls are there but the couch is yours if you want it.”

“I do,” said Bill. “I’m tired and worn. But I haven’t been home and I need to get clean clothes and see my fiancé.”

Lorraine shrugged her shoulders and headed out of the kitchen.

Bill was busy breaking down the steam table when the dishwashers came back up. Being after midnight, the van had arrived to take them downtown. Bill told them to finish up the racks they had and then to cut out. He heard Jim mumble something, and while his instinct was to ignore it, his fatigue mixed with the bourbon and beer overrode his instinct.

“You got something to say?” Bill started toward Jim but the van driver stepped onto the line blocking him from leaving it.

“He ain’t got nothing to say,” the van driver said. “We’re all tired is all. Me, I been working like you since early this morning.”

“I ain’t got nothing to say,” Jim said.

With the van driver there, Bill didn’t have to keep an eye on Jim, so he went back to work. As late as it was, he could carry the leftovers to the back counter then stack the steam table pans and inserts over by the potwasher station. That done, he started soaping everything that was stainless steel. Everything soaped, he wiped it all down making sure it shone.

Next was the grease, first one, then the other, both of them still hot and working. Bill strained them with the round, wire skimmer. He dumped the crud into a pot and finally emptied that pot into the garbage. In the morning there was going to be a lot or work for the day crew. Since the dishwashers were going, he would cart out the trash before he left.

Marie was busy finishing her cleanup. She had taken her beer over with her and when she was finished it, she held the bottle up indicating to Bill that she wanted another one.  Bill was tending to the orders working, but when Lorraine came in, he asked her to fetch the beers.

“Any new tables?” he asked.

“Just those people I told you came in. They ordered drinks and are looking at the menu.”

“I’m gonna call home in a bit. Maybe I won’t have to travel.”

“Well, my offer stands.” Lorraine smiled at Bill then went out for the beers. She returned a moment later. Bill was plating the deuce, which was an order for two Tops medium rare with French-fries. Since he was busy, she came around on the line and placed the beers where they were not in his way. Then she walked through so as not to cross behind him and waited for him to put up the steaks.

While that was happening, the van driver said goodnight and the dishwashers followed him out the door.

“Alone at last,” said Marie when Lorraine had gone out with the steaks. But they were not alone for long. A moment later Victoria came in with two new orders.

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kitchen-4

Eleven finally came. Orders tapered off and Lillian was able to rest her voice. She did not break down her station until eleven-fifteen, however, when several moments had passed without new orders and waitresses were beginning to put in their own dinner requests.

“Well,” Lillian finally said then as she was gathering up the folded towels she used to hold the dupes, “I think I shall bid you good night.” As she always did, the tossed Bill the towels she had used. He would use them in his clean-up routine.

“What you eating?” Bill asked.

“How about a piece of prime rib?”

“How you want it?”

“Medium rare, sir.”

As Bill was cutting the rib, Jimmy passed behind him and headed off downstairs to the bathroom. Alone on the line, Bill worked Lillian’s rib by running au jus over it until it was medium rare. Then he gave her a baked potato, which he split and gently squeezed open then packed with sour cream. This was Lillian’s usual and he did not have to ask her about it. The plate ready, he slid it up on the shelf under the warmer lights and warned her that the plate was warm.

“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” Lillian said as she took up her plate.

Bill watched her head out the automatic doors to the side dining room then started in on the waitress orders he had. As he worked those, he asked the dishwashers what they wanted to eat. Paulie, as always, told him a hamburger. Andy asked for a chopped steak. Mickey asked for a pickerel. Jim didn’t say anything at first. He was still stewing over the confrontation he had with Bill when he stood there with his apron in his hand. Bill would not turn his back to him, so for a moment, just a moment, they had been in a staring match. Bill knew better than to look away. Jim knew better than to continue challenging Bill if he wanted to keep his job. And there it was.

A minute, maybe two, real time, had passed. Finally, Jim, who had taken to looking down to his feet, said he had to pee and went out of the kitchen. He had returned several moments later with his apron back on and had immediately stepped into his place pulling washed dishes from the dish racks on the dish machine’s long counter.

“You eating or what?” Bill asked him.

“I’d like a chopped steak,” he said.

Jimmy came back and worked the help’s orders while Bill took a moment to go downstairs. He took a long drink of bourbon in the meat room before he went to the bathroom, then he returned to the line. He was smoking a cigarette and left it beside the cutting board on the stainless steel top of the reach-in box in front of him.

The first waitress in to get her food was Lexi. Bill asked her to get him a beer. She left her dinner under the warmer lights and went out to the bar. She returned not even two minutes later with a beer in hand.

Jimmy and Grandma both cut out as he was feeding the rest of the waitresses. By this time it was almost midnight and Bill knew it was going to be a really late night.

Only when the dishwashers had gone downstairs to eat and she was alone with Bill in the kitchen did Marie come over onto the line. Bill was still drinking the beer and resting a moment before starting the clean up.

“Man,” said Marie, “my coochie’s all sweaty. My ass too.” She reached for Bill’s beer and stood there drinking it.

“Finish it. I’ll get another.”

“Wanna feel how wet my panties are?”

“Not really. You want me to?”

“I’d rather you take me downstairs and help me cool myself down.”

“Later,” said Bill. Then, “I’m wet too, you know. Inside and out.”

Marie reached to the front of Bill’s pants under his apron. “Yeah,” she said, feeling him up. “You sure are.”

Pick up a copy of all my  published works here: 

Books by Peter Weiss.


kitchen-4

Bill’s Garland stayed full all night long. Alfreda showed up about nine-thirty to pick up her husband. She picked at some of the French fries he’d left on his plate, then stood in the doorway and watched Bill and Jimmy work.

“Robert says they’re busy like this over there too.”

“Big whoop,” said Bill.

Alfreda had her coat open. She was wearing a frock that, skinny as she was, hung on her much like the dress the other day hung on Marie, much like Marie’s kitchen dress hung on her now. The frock was kind of low cut, not that Bill could see anything other than her throat, not that he even had time to be looking. But from what he did see he wanted to go over and lick her throat. Alfreda would like that, he thought. Then, despite the full broiler, he pictured her fully naked before him, her hands bidding him come to her.

“Ordering.” Lillian’s voice boomed out grabbing him back from the momentary reverie.

Bill checked out the grill. His first instinct was to call back to her to pick up, but he could see, now that he was looking, she held a few dupes in her hand. He listened as she ran through the orders, pulled the steaks he needed from his reach-in and stacked them on the cutting board on top of the reach-in. That done, he called for things to be picked up.

“You two are okay, right?” Henry Lee had stepped up to the knife sheath.

“We’re good,” said Bill.

“I’m gonna take a whiz, then we’re out of here.”

Bill nodded. He watched Henry Lee walk past Alfreda and turn to go downstairs. Alfreda was hanging out in the doorway. Subtly as he could, he bid her approach him, which she quickly did.

He was in the midst of plating some steaks, turning others and placing new ones on the grill. Still, he took a moment to whisper something in her ear. “I feel like licking you all over,” he said. “Everywhere. In everything.”

“You only say that cause you can’t. But I’ll catch you when you can. Then it’ll be put up or shut up.”

“We’ll see what we see.” Bill turned and flipped some steaks on the Garland. While he and Jimmy were working, Henry Lee came up and he and Alfreda slipped out the door.

An hour later was the first time a lull came. Lillian had time to catch her breath and Jimmy had time to run downstairs and pee. Bill lit himself a cigarette and asked Lexi, who was the runner, to get him a beer and a bottled soda for Jimmy. He also asked her to have one of the busboys bring a pitcher of soda for the dishwashers.

In the midst of the all that was going on, waitresses in and out, Lillian calling orders, the dish machine constantly running, Bill could hear Jim and Mickey exchanging words. He’d heard it some throughout the evening. Finally he’d had enough and stopped what he was doing and walked over to the machine. He stepped up to Jim, right in his face.

“I heard about enough, goddamn it.”

Jim was taken aback. Bill did not ordinarily approach him like that.

“Don’t say a goddamn word. And you,” said Bill as he turned to Mickey, “I heard enough out of you too. Quit goading him. I’m fucking tired of both of you. I hear anymore, you’re both going even if I have to wash every goddamn dish myself.”

Jim started to remove his apron, as if to quit. Mickey, who still had the notion he could pimp Bill to the two ladies he’d once mentioned, stayed quiet. He went back to stacking the plates and was glad to have to make a trip to the plate warmers.

Stepping back without turning back, Bill watched to see what Jim was going to do. Jim was clearly processing the situation.

Pick up a copy of all my  published works here: 

Books by Peter Weiss.