Caesar returned at five-thirty on the dot. He was clearly flushed in the face and Bill could see he was perturbed, maybe even irate. Jimmy took the moment Caesar returned to go out to Kalista. He came back a few moments later with espressos for him and Bill.
Jimmy and Bill stood over on Jimmy’s side of the kitchen which had a little wall that kept them partially out of view from customers. From there they could see Caesar call the waitresses to him right before the kitchen’s serving window. No customers had come in yet. None would come in until just about six o’clock.
Caesar lined the waitresses up and stood facing them. Bill surmised that he’d done this before since the waitresses seemed familiar with the procedure. He would learn that Caesar did this every day.
Perfectly lined up, Caesar checked their uniforms, front and back by making them turn around. He tucked here, pulled there, straightened the bows in the back, didn’t stop until the uniforms fell how he wanted them. Then he checked the waitresses’ hands and fingernails.
“Shit,” Bill said to Jimmy. “I wouldn’t stand for that.”
“Ya,” jimmy said. “Lot of girls want this job. Plenty competition.”
As they were sipping their espressos and watching Caesar with the waitresses, the phone rang in the kitchen. Jimmy answered and rattled off some words in Greek. When he hung up, Jimmy told Bill that little Jimmy said the chef had laced it into Caesar pretty good. The chef told Caesar that he worked for him and that the cooks, all of them, and all the wait staff and banquet staff worked for him, that he and he alone as chef de cuisine was in charge of the food operation. Little Jimmy, according to Jimmy G., said Caesar turned red in the face, that all he could say was ‘yes chef.’
So Caesar was irate, he was perturbed, he was pissed at Bill altogether and shot him bull daggers all night long. Only one thing would be Bill’s saving grace and that was that he could, very easily and even all by himself, handle the entire food service for the room no matter how busy it got.
Just before the first order came in, the two women Bill did not know and who were now in French Maid’s uniforms, came up to the window to introduce themselves. Bill saw when he met them that their uniforms were less modest than Jo Ann’s was, at least on top because with the serving wall between them he couldn’t quite see them much below the waist until they stepped away.
The taller and less angular one spoke first. “I’m Edelgarde,” she said in what Bill knew immediately was a distinct German accent. She did a little curtsy for Bill and smiled at him, revealed even, straight white teeth. Her lips were painted red and very inviting.
“And I’m Rosie,” the other one said also with a heavy German accent. Rosie was shorter, more normal height since Edelgarde was unusually tall for a woman. She winked at Bill as she did her curtsy and she gave Bill a big, big smile. “We can talk later,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
So there they were, the three Falstaff Room girls. Jo Ann, the oldest one somewhere around fifty, was more mature-looking, more sedate, more modestly dressed even in the maid’s uniform. She was somewhat plump and blonde and very interested in making money. Rosie and Edelgarde, both German, were in their thirties, both cute, both dark-haired and thick-lipped. They wore their uniforms tighter and skimpier than Jo Ann and immediately flirted openly with Bill.
“Ya,” Jimmy G. said. “This will work out well.”
