“So what did I do to Millie?” Bill asked.
Rosie and Edelgarde were finishing their dinners. They sat at a small corner table, one out of the way, one where Caesar usually sat singles, sometimes young couples he judged were not too savvy in dining.
“That sole meuniere was great,” Edelgarde said.
“Mashed potatoes too. They were different. What’d you do to them?” Rosie asked.
“I spit in ‘em,” Bill said.
“You can…,” Rosie started.
Edelgarde cut her off posthaste. “Don’t you dare go there,” Edelgarde said.
Rosie laughed. Bill looked on. He had a good sense of where there was and what Rosie was going to say.
“I put some extra garlic and butter in them for you, that’s all.”
“Well the meal was great,” Edelgarde said.
Bill was standing facing Rosie and Edelgarde. The girls, sitting, could see past him. They saw Caesar looking on. They saw, they interpreted what they saw, as displeasure in his expression.
“Caesar’s watching us,” Edelgarde said. “He looks pissed.”
Bill smiled. The notion crossed his mind again,. the one of victory. The more everyone liked him and took to him, the more alienated and diminished Caesar became. This, Bill knew, was humorous yet perilous.
Hist first day in the workhouse when he’d run into the mean guy, Ronnie, the one who asked him what he thought his wife was doing out there while he was locked up in here: he was mean but not dangerous. The dorm tough, whom he identified and noted that first day: he was ominous and dangerous, an X-factor, a random factor hanging in space out there that could become perilous at any moment.
Well, Bill thought, Caesar could be, on his level, something like that. Caesar was like a viper ready to spring at any moment and he would hurt anyone to get at Bill.
But Caesar had a whole host of people in higher positions who although they respected the job he did as maître d’ did not like him as a person. This meant he, Bill, had strong allies and it meant Caesar could be handled.
“Fuck him,” Bill said.
“No,” Rosie said. “Me.”
“Don’t you have any shame,” Edelgarde said slapping Rosie on the arm. Then she said, “Me too.” Then she Rosie both laughed and their laughter was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Caesar slithered over to where they were and immediately asked if they had work to do.
Rosie and Edelgarde looked away from him. Bill looked directly at him but didn’t say anything because it wasn’t worth the effort. In his mind he was thinking: he’s not talking to me is he? And even if he is, he isn’t my boss.
Rosie and Edelgarde, almost as if they were attached at the hip, made a motion toward getting up. Bill, sensing and assessing the situation, simply said, “Well ladies, enjoy the rest of your meal. I’ve got stuff to do.” He made a somewhat cordial gesture toward Caesar. “The ladies tell me it’s been a very good night volume-wise,” he said.
“Yes,” Caesar said. “We did well.”
“I’m glad,” Bill said. “I hope my cooking will help volume stay good.”
Caesar did not say anything. Bill knew, and it was apparent in Caesar’s body language, that the last thing Caesar wanted was to be engaged in conversation. He did not respond to Bill, just made a small grunt-like sound, turned and walked away.
Bill went back to the kitchen. Jimmy G was sitting reading a Greek newspaper. He was wearing reading glasses. Bill went past him over by the Garland, over by where he could see out through the open-hearth window and partly into the dining room.
