Monday at noon Millie met Bill at her counter with a big smile. Bill only went there because he needed uniforms, pants and shirts. He needed full sets to replace those from Saturday and Sunday.
He was carrying his dirty laundry in both hands and before he chucked them into the big laundry cart, Millie reached out.
“Give them here,” she said.
Bill handed them to her and watched her put them into a different basket. She didn’t have to move much as the basket was nearby.
“I’ll take care of these personally,” she said. “I have nice clean ones for you.”
“Thanks,” Bill said. He saw that the two top buttons of her house-dress were open. He smiled at her. She smiled back.
“Been hearing things about you,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Just the start of your second week and you’re moving up.”
“I am?”
“So I hear.”
“How do you hear these things?”
“Scuttlebutt.”
“Really,” Bill said. “How do you hear these things?”
“My boss is a boss,” Millie said. “She talks to the chef. She talks to the F&B Director. Her and me are tight.”
“So what did you hear?”
“You’re gonna be the head cook, the first cook. You’re getting a nice raise and I’m gonna be seeing a lot of you.”
“News travels fast,” Bill said.
“I’m good with it,” Millie said.
“That makes me very happy,” Bill said.
“I did purple for you,” Millie said. She stepped back from her counter so Bill could see down to her feet. She was barelegged, several of her bottom dress buttons were open too. She was wearing house slippers and her toenails were purple. She held out her hands for him. Her fingernails were purple to match her toes.
“You like?”
“I like.”
“You can kiss anything or any part of anything you’d like.”
“I have to get up on the floor. I’m already running about fifteen minutes late.”
“What’s another few minutes?”
“Nah. Gotta go,” Bill said.
“Will I see you later?”
“Depends. If I get a break, I’ll come by.”
“Good. Make sure you get a break. I get mine around 3:00. She handed him three clean, pressed uniforms. “Only the best for you.”
Bill took the three hangers from Millie, noted she’d taken the time to sort them, to pair them, one complete uniform on each hanger. The jackets and pants, he saw, were wrinkle-free.
“See you in a bit,” Bill said.
Up on the floor Jimmy Banquet Chef was waiting for him. “Every day at noon from now on,” he said to Bill. “If we have a banquet we’ll adjust your in time.” He walked Bill over to the wall by the chef’s office and pulled down a clipboard. “The banquets are always listed here. When there are lunches you’ll be earlier. I’ll go through and post a schedule for you. No matter what, you’ll always be doing The Falstaff Room.
Bill didn’t say anything. He read the banquet schedule, checked for the days he’d be coming in early. He didn’t mind working and he wanted to work. First and foremost in his mind was saving money, always saving money and making sure he/they had enough money saved to be able to weather an emergency. They’d already had several of them together and they’d only been together a short time, relatively speaking. They’d needed a new car—the Rambler was a story unto itself. He’d needed money for his legal defense—if he’d had money or been able to tell his father so he could have gotten money, he would never have been convicted of anything and wouldn’t have needed to borrow money for paying rent and eating.
And so it goes, so it went.
“Your raise starts today,” the banquet chef said. “I don’t know exactly what it is yet, but it’s going to be good. As of this moment, you’re officially first cook.”
Bill wasn’t impressed with himself.
