After Bill, Victor and the banquet chef breaded all the chicken breasts for all the parties and wrapped and put away what they weren’t going to sauté now, they washed and cleaned up their station then went to smoke a cigarette.
Bill was already mostly sober as they stood smoking. They’d stopped by room service to get themselves double espressos which they carried in coffee mugs. Then they stood there away from the prep part of the kitchen. They smoked. They sipped the black, somewhat-thick coffee. Victor and the banquet chef talked some in Greek and then they both spoke to Bill in English.
“Nothing much will change for you when your probation is over,” the banquet chef said.
“Kalista thinks of you as one of her own babies,” Victor said. “That’s the best you can do in this place.”
“I think she’s great,” Bill said. “She’s been great to me.”
“She likes how you cover for your lazy partner.”
“She likes how you stand up to Caesar,” Victor said.
“When we slow down in banquets,” the banquet chef said, “the chef’s gonna make sure you keep most of your extra hours. That’s good for us, good for him and good for you.”
“Idle hands,” Victor said. “How’s your little banquet waitress?”
Bill hadn’t seen Beverly in a little while and this, altogether, was not a bad thing from his point of view. Not that it mattered – in the scope of things it was just another thing that didn’t mean much in the world. It’s biggest significance was the implication in his marriage, but she was already one of many. In and of herself, she was neither here nor there.
Thinking of her, feeling as he was, Bill wished – just for a moment – she was there today. He knew, and he had felt this before at different times in his short life, he was on the edge, dangerous of sorts. Not dangerous dangerous. He knew he wouldn’t do anything dangerous, not hurt himself or anyone or even anything. But as he thought about it and he saw things, he was starting to think that Millie, who was there today, and Edelgarde and Rosie from The Falstaff Room needed to be careful. No telling what he might do. No telling who he might do it to. Whatever he was gonna do, and he didn’t know what yet himself, he might do it to all of them.
Maybe I should be careful, he thought.
“Cat got your tongue?” Victor said.
“I was thinking,” Bill said.
“Both of you better start thinking about those chicken breasts, Jimmy Banquet Chef said. “The chef won’t want to come in tomorrow and see us all backed up.”
“Where’s my partner?” Bill asked.
The banquet chef and Victor looked at each other. “Should we tell him?” Victor asked.
“Might as well.”
“Sleeping in the chef’s office,” Victor said. “That’s why it’s dark.”
“Why you hesitate to tell me?” Bill asked.
Victor and the banquet chef looked at each other again. Neither one said anything.
“I know the score,” Bill said. “I’m cool with it. Last time I’m gonna say it, but I’m just as happy working alone, so it’s all good. Besides, I truly like Kalista and I’d do most anything for her.”
“See,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said to Victor, “that’s why our sister likes him so much.”
Finished their cigarettes and the espresso, the banquet chef served them each a double shot of whiskey. Then they went about doing the sauté. Since they were alone together, they each set up their stations. This meant gathering the big, big-ass sauté pans and the tools with which to do the sauté.
Each of them ready, each of them watching and helping the two others also, they stood waiting for the oil to heat up.
