Bill did not care that he had more free time. He was getting paid straight through, or at least that was the deal Jimmy Banquet Chef had made with him. After eight hours, the rest was overtime at time and a half. So the hardest part, from his point of view, was keeping track of his hours. If things kept up like this, he would have a good shot at making a good salary here.
“Don’t forget to see Millie,” Jimmy said. He laughed as he said it, and later when Bill was off probation and they were getting more and more friendly Jimmy would begin to tell Bill about his own kitchen exploits, not particularly here, but before he’d become a father and was working in other kitchens, first in Greece and then here in America.
Bill would learn that Victor knew about them, and he would learn that Victor had his own exploits. Kalista would talk about him. “Dog,” she would say, and she would laugh every time. Bill would come to think that Kalista, chubby, almost fat like Grandma was, had had her own exploits. He would come to think and to actually understand that when she was younger and thinner, Kalista was quite beautiful and desirable in her own right.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “Seeing Millie is my favorite part of the day.”
Jimmy caught the sarcasm and laughed. But then he said, “Why not take a piece? She’s cute. Bet she’d give you anything you want.”
“She would,” Bill said.
“Well, don’t worry about your probation. Unless I catch you stealing or doing something you shouldn’t be, you know, like doing drugs or assaulting someone like Caesar, who would deserve it by the way, you’re safe here. I been looking for someone like you for this kitchen for a long time. Was up to me, I’d teach you everything about banquets and make you assistant banquet chef.”
“Thanks for your confidence,” Bill said. “I’ll try not to let you down.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said.
They’d prepared a hundred lobster tails. They were laid out on flat kitchen trays that would slide right into the rotary oven. Bill and Jimmy wrapped them with film, and like the steaks, they’d stored them in the walk-in box. No lobster tails would be served to the help. Any leftovers would be sold in The Falstaff Room.
Done, the banquet chef said he would go through the banquet list for the next few weeks and let Bill know what his hours would be. Bill confirmed that he would take all the hours he could get. Bill calculated his need based upon the fact that his wife’s salary was a mere pittance, maybe enough for her to live on if she were single and shared an apartment with a roommate, or better, two roommates. With two roommates she might have enough for food, clothing and maybe transportation.
So Bill made his way to the locker room. He had one dirty jacket in his locker and he changed his pants before he went over to see Millie.
Millie was reading her book. It was not quite one in the afternoon yet and she was still on her lunch break. Because she was still on her break she invited Bill into the room in which she worked, told him to open the counter and just step in. Bill did not want to do this, but he did it nevertheless, more not to not burn bridges than to socialize with Millie. On his way over to her, he threw his dirty uniform into the dirty laundry cart.
“I have freshly starched uniforms for you,” she said. “I’m still on lunch so I can walk you over to the locker room if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Bill said. He sat down in the empty chair next to her. “I’ll walk it over myself. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
“Understood,” Millie said.
