That Saturday, the main kitchen had an early luncheon banquet for six hundred. Bill, Victor and Jimmy Banquet Chef had done all the prep on Friday, one of the reasons Bill was so tired Friday night. Standard fare it was, inexpensive, boneless chicken breast with pommes duchesse and green beans with almonds. This one was a Democratic party incumbent meeting and greeting campaign donors for a re-election bid. No big deal, just a lot of work.
Beverly was looking good. She had tight-tailored pants and her standard tux. She’d made herself up with black lipstick and fingernails. Bill checked it out when he saw her. That first look at her was just a quick one when the wait staff met. This was while the cooks were still working on finishing up the browning of the breasts on the stoves. Still it was enough to turn him on in the mood he was in.
The meal went off at 1:00. Dish-up was started at 12:20. By 12:50 everything was set in the warmer trucks which were plugged in and keeping the food hot. Then the guests sat down and salad that was already on the table was consumed such that the main courses could be sent out.
So they were all done by 2:00, the wait staff too. The cooks and stewards had cleaned the main kitchen and Jimmy Banquet Chef was taking a break before he and his crew, without Bill who would be working in The Falstaff Room, started on the next banquets, two for the evening.
Bill and Jimmy G took an hour break. Jimmy G went down to the locker room where he could take a good nap. Bill was undecided in what he would do. He could go to see Millie, not a choice he really wanted to exercise. So he thought he’d take a trip through the back of the house to go to see where he and Beverly had been that time. He didn’t expect to find Beverly there, wasn’t even looking for her, maybe subconsciously. After some meandering, some wandering, he got close enough to her spot for her to hear him and then find him.
“Looking for me?” she asked.
“Not really. Thought I’d see if I could find this place,” Bill said.
“You were close.”
“Close only counts in horseshoes.”
“Maybe,” Beverly said. She smiled at him, led him to where they’d been that time.
Beverly had taken off her tie, a clip-on, opened her shirt collar, three buttons. Her tie was atop her tux jacket on the stairs along with her cumber bun. She sat down exactly where she’d sat the other time, motioned for Bill to join her.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Bill said.
“I got the night too. Wasn’t supposed to but one of the guys got sick and so I’m doing the double.”
“I have The Falstaff Room.”
“I know. How much of a break you have?”
“An hour. I was gonna take a nap.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Did you eat?”
“I had some vegetables and salad. I didn’t want the chicken.”
“If you’re hungry later, come by. I can fix you something.”
“I’ll eat tonight. They’re having roast beef and that’s better than the chicken.”
“Good. How’s things with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what you mean?”
“I mean at home.”
“Same. No change. He’s got a girlfriend and he’s seeing her regularly. That’s the whole of it.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna get even. And then I’m gonna divorce him.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your mind made up.”
“I do.”
“Good for you, I guess.”
“Nope. Wasn’t what I was looking for. Wasn’t what I signed up for.”
“Sometimes life sucks,” Bill said.
“Could be worse,” Beverly said.
