Jimmy G and Bill were fast and efficient in their rounds. Jimmy G made fresh Hollandaise Sauce while Bill loaded up the truck. He was still making the sauce when Bill was ready to make his first run to the room so Bill went alone. Fourth day, experienced cook, he had it down and knew what he had to do. It was no big deal. Biggest deal was wondering if anyone was going to find out about him and Beverly or him and Millie or both.
They were both in his thoughts as he took the long trip through the passageways and then finally up that last corridor which ended at Kalista’s station and the double doors to the room. Because the room was closed and empty except for Caesar, he took the truck through the double doors and left it in the aisle right by the entrance to the kitchen.
Here in this hotel the steam table was already built. The night cleaners came in every night and scrubbed down everything. Then, when everything was cleaned and ready, they rebuilt the steam table by setting in the dividers and the bottom inserts. All Bill had to do was turn on the water, fill up the steam table and turn on the heat. It was simple and easy. He didn’t even have to scrub the broiler or brush the grills and he never found the grease drawer not having been emptied.
An overflowing grease drawer was what had started that fire at Suburban the day Alvin had run out into the parking lot.
“Shit, I’m a cook, I ain’t no fireman,” he’d said when Bill and Robert confronted him. That was the day that Alfreda had first come on to Bill.
Something about the heat made them hot. Something about the hard work and pressured atmosphere, about the absolute dependency, about the power position of being a cook (though Alfreda and Mary were cooks too), about being together so much in close proximity most of the time, sweating together, brushing up against each other…
Later in his life, Bill would learn that fooling around, fooling around at work, was everywhere all the time. Maybe it was more in restaurants than elsewhere, maybe not, and if it was more frequent, maybe that was because to most of the people working it was just a job, a job most people didn’t want and wouldn’t take if it was handed to them, and these jobs, if you were experienced, were plentiful.
Or, there was little to lose career-wise and even ethically since in reality seven in ten married people cheated. Maybe another factor was that almost everyone was young.
Not Jo Ann. She was early girl like always. She was in at three. By then Jimmy G and Bill were already ninety percent set up. They had one last trip to the main kitchen to make, just for the final things for the night. It was an easy and unrushed trip so they planned to sit with Jimmy Banquet Chef in the executive chef’s office for a beer and a chat. The executive chef at this time of day was usually nowhere to be found.
“Bet we’re going to be busy,” Jo Ann said. Being older, a career waitress and mother of two college-age children, she was all business. She didn’t mess around and wasn’t interested in the drama. All she was interested in was making money.
“I hope so,” Bill said. “I don’t like sitting around.”
Jo Ann took a moment to stand face-to-face with Bill and smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re our cook,” she said. “I hope you’re planning to stay a while.”
