Still May Day.
Right after Bill washed the potatoes for baking he went downstairs and into the meat room for a drink. While there, the crazies hit him and without thinking twice, he went into his locker and popped acid.
“You know I want mine too,” said Mary, meeting him in the hall. “Today. Later. And you better do me better than you ever did her.”
“I just popped acid,” he said as he led her back to the meat room.
“And?”
“Just saying. You may get more than you asked for. Maybe not.”
“Why don’t you get off those damn drugs?”
“Aw, you really do care.”
Mary smiled as she gave him the finger. “I don’t even have to respond to that. If I didn’t care I’d have made your days here really hard. If I didn’t love you, you’d have quit here a long time ago.”
“You may love me, but you don’t know me. Nothing makes me quit but me. And I’m a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”
“Persistent too.”
“We need to bread anything?”
“You know what we got to do. Two o’clock, baby.”
Bill smiled. He opened his arms for Mary to approach him. They hugged, kissed. Then he offered her a drink, which she took, a very small sip. He took another drink, a big one after which he reached into the drawer and came out with a joint.
Mary pulled him close to her and took his hand, on her own, up her dress. She guided him, settled his fingers where she wanted them and kept hers on top of his. She eased them back against the counter where she usually sat so she could lean comfortably and closed her eyes.
“It’s not safe here.”
“I don’t care.”
“You do care, so let’s go somewhere safe.”
“Let’s smoke the joint first.”
They did. They bundled in the parkas and went into the deep freeze, mitts and all. Done, they hung up the arctic clothes and went into the ladies’ staff bathroom.
Was Mary who locked the door behind Bill. He asked her if everything was okay upstairs, if anything on the stoves needed tending to. She said the only thing needed tending to was her. So she sat herself up on the bathroom counter, as she had done many times before, and she drew her knees up so she could put her feet—in Bobby socks and work shoes—up on the counter. She balanced herself and spread her legs wide.
“High heels and Bobby socks would be great. You could dress like a school girl.”
“Why I want to dress like a school girl? I ain’t a school girl. You go home to one of them. I’m a grown-up, bad-ass woman. And that’s how you better treat me.”
Bill could see that Bea was pissed when they came back upstairs. She had a frown on her face, the first thing that Bill saw when he walked into the kitchen. Mary seemed to pay Bea no mind and went right back to her station where she stirred everything that was on the stoves, first thing, and then checked everything in the ovens to make sure they were okay. There was some round left over from the day before. She went into the walk-in and took it out so that it could cool down some, or warm up some, as it were.
Bill went down the line to make sure everything was in order. The Garland was hot. Half the charcoal grill was hot. The second Garland was unlit and cold. The fryers were ready. Bill found this out by taking a few drops of water from his sink and splashing them into the fryers. They popped energetically, all ready.
“Anything I can do for you?” Bill stood on the end of the line closest to Bea and asked her from there.
“I’m okay for now.” She kind of scowled at Bill. Bill purposefully ignored it, looked into the reach-in freezers to get an idea of what he had to carry up later on, then walked back to where Mary was busy at work.
