The first order did not come in until after six. It was a four-top, husband, wife and two kids. Next table was the same, and early on it was all family. People traveled and had to travel for the holidays and lots of people stayed in hotels because they were not visiting family or because it was their preference. Families with little kids had to put the kids to sleep. Maybe anyone they were visiting would be coming to the hotel. Maybe they were feeding the kids before they went wherever it was they were going.
Bill knew his wife would be eating at home with her family and then later on they would be going to her aunt’s house. Bill would miss that but he would drive to her parents’ house to sleep there. Tomorrow before going to work he would drive home to feed the cats. Either someone in his wife’s family would drive her home later in the day or he would pick her up after work and they would go home together.
It was their first Christmas in Cleveland. They didn’t have an established routine as yet.
Jimmy G stayed out of the kitchen mostly. Bill did the cooking and he wasn’t unhappy with this. Rosie and Edelgarde came along from time to time to sneak kisses in the doorway as they held up the mistletoe. Jo Ann was ever herself, business as usual and some very cheerful merry Christmas wishes and thoughts. She was pleasant and happy and openly happy that it was slow and she could get out early.
At one point, when there was nothing working, around quarter-to-eight, Bill went out to Jimmy G and told him to watch things so he could run off to the men’s room. Jimmy G said his usual “Ya,” and went into the kitchen. Bill lit himself a cigarette and slowly, very casually, headed on down the ramp.
He wasn’t surprised when Edelgarde met him. They hadn’t planned this and it wasn’t a pressure thing. They simply shared the cigarette he had lit and walked together to the distant staff bathrooms. They went into the same bathroom, the women’s, laughing and having a good time the whole way.
On their way there, they didn’t run into a single person. No one was in the main kitchen and nothing was working there except for a bare-bones dish-washing crew. The dish-washing area was not on the way to where these bathrooms were.
They did not spend a long time in the bathroom. They kissed a little. They watched each other pee, just because, and they played a little.
“Foreplay,” Edelgarde said.
“Merry Christmas,” Bill said.
“Jimmy isn’t doing much today, is he?”
“Did you expect him to?”
“I don’t expect anything. I do my job and stay as much out everything I can stay out of.”
“Smart,” Bill said. “I get into everything I can get into,” he said.
“You can say that again,” Edelgarde said.
“Course I try to stay out of the politics.”
“Of course.”
They kissed and petted a little more, enough for Bill to stir Edelgarde up pretty well. She laughed and said he could think about her finishing herself herself if he wanted to. He told her that was a great thought, a wonderful image.
They walked back slowly, as leisurely as they’d walked getting there. They didn’t hide being together, were only careful exiting the ladies’ room making sure no one got the view of them inside together.
Back by Kalista, Bill asked her to make him an espresso. Edelgarde helped herself to a pastry and asked Kalista if she could have an espresso. Kalista made two doubles and gave them each one.
Jimmy G was working a few tables. First thing, Bill read the dupes. Then he surveyed what was already working and what was needing to be done. Then he stepped into his place and took up with that which needed doing so as to complete the orders.
By Peter Weiss
Bill did the whole setup by himself. In one way it was no big deal, but in another together they could have done the work in half the time.
Jimmy G slept. When he woke he smoked a cigarette and sat reading his Greek magazine. Kalista implored him several times to get up and help Bill but Jimmy G sat listening with deaf ears.
Jimmy Banquet Chef brought dinner for them all. He was later than usual but it didn’t matter because everything was low key. He came with a kitchen truck on which he had the specials too.
The first special was stuffed baked chicken breast with a ham and cheese stuffing and which would be topped with mushroom sauce. The second was rolled filet of sole stuffed with spinach and mushrooms topped with white wine sauce and mushrooms. Bill knew the banquet chef was using up the sauces from the morning parties and he was also using the remainders of the chicken and fish that had not been cooked off for the parties. Everything was super fresh, Bill knew. It was good business from the food cost standpoint.
They all sat down to eat only when everything for the dinner service was set in place and ready to go. It was a jovial dinner. Jimmy Banquet Chef served everyone stuffed sole. He had made a dozen extra portions. Jimmy G ate again. He had eaten twice from the buffet table. Kalista added her usual wonderful Greek salad.
The one difference in tonight’s meal was that the waitresses were invited and extra chairs were brought in. This had unintended consequences for the first part of the meal, mostly until they got to the dessert. The Greeks spoke English and everyone participated in a friendly, holiday discussion. Even Caesar came in and spent a moment with the crew. Jimmy Banquet Chef offered him dinner, but he declined. He left them after a short while saying he had to watch the front.
Dessert was Kalista’s homemade baklava and an assortment of other Greek pastries. She served the baklava herself and put out a full tray of the sweets. Then she made espresso for everyone. That done, she told everyone she’d leave the sweets out all night so they could help themselves.
Only thing missing from the dinner was drink. Would have been nice if Caesar had brought out a bottle of white wine. Might have been nice if he’d cracked open a champagne. He could have done that, maybe should have done that, but he didn’t. Well, at least he had come out to wish everyone a good meal.
After they ate Bill and Jimmy Banquet Chef went down the ramp a ways to smoke a cigarette. They stood side by side leaning against the wall.
“I’d apologize for my cousin,” the banquet chef said, “but he should be doing that.”
“It’s okay,” Bill said.
“It’s not okay. I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Other cooks have said the same thing. A few more months, you’ll be able to work in any hotel. There’s other chains in this town. You could go now and get a job. A few more months and you’ll make more money.”
“Why would I leave?”
“Sooner or later everyone gets pissed off at my cousin.”
Bill didn’t say anything immediately. Finally he said, “I like your aunt. I like you and Victor. I even like Jimmy.”
“You still have to watch out for Caesar.”
“We made a little inroad tonight. I initiated it.”
“That was smart.”
“It just came to me, popped into my head. Seemed like a right thing to do.”
“I still wouldn’t trust him.”
“I’m dying to hear about that waitress he made quit. Your aunt has teased me with it but she hasn’t let me know anything about it.”
“My aunt sees and knows everything.” Jimmy Banquet Chef smiled, puffed his cigarette. “She’ll tell you when she sees fit,” he said.
By Peter Weiss
After the kiss, Rosie turned and asked, “Wanna pet my tail?” They were alone in the kitchen and Bill had no indication that his partner would be joining him there soon.
“Why not?” he said. He stepped close to her reached down. Of course the tail was not what he went to pet and Rosie, not shy with him at all anymore, leaned a little forward to make his petting her a bit easier.
“It’s gonna be really slow,” she said. “Wanna meet up? It is Christmas Eve.”
“Sure,” Bill said.
He took only a quick feel, an inside, intimate one, one to let him know that Rosie was already expectant. Primed might be another way to have thought about it, or, the well was already running and all he had done was kiss her and prime it a bit.
“I have to finish setting up,” Bill said. “Have to make a couple more trips to the kitchen. Jimmy doesn’t look like he’s gonna be helping any.”
“Well, I’ll see you in a bit,” Rosie said.
Bill’s espresso was waiting for him when he went back out to the truck and where Kalista was. His partner, he saw, was fast asleep there by his aunt and when Bill went to take up his coffee, Kalista gave him a look.
“What am I to do?” she said.
“It’s okay,” Bill said.
“Is not okay,” said Kalista. “Is anything but okay.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. But it does get tiresome, and I’ve only been here two months now.”
“Yes,” Kalista said. “Sooner or later, the chef has to do something. I tell Victor and my other Jimmy to talk to him, but this one,” she said nodding toward Jimmy G, “he don’t care and he’s lazy.”
“There was a time not too long ago I’d have killed for a job,” Bill said. He sipped his espresso quickly, finished it and put the cup in the bus box.
“I have to go back to the main kitchen,” Bill said. “Let him sleep.”
Edelgarde was waiting for Bill down the ramp where no one from The Falstaff Room could see them. She surprised Bill and he was startled.
“Rosie said you petted her tail,” Edelgarde said. “Mine is just as soft.” She smiled at Bill and turned so he could see the tail attached to the uniform.
Bill locked the wheel on the truck and stepped away from it. He took a moment to look all around them. Not only were they alone and isolated, but from what he could see and understood, it was like a ghost town there.
He did not pet her tail. He pinned Edelgarde against the wall and kissed her. He did not kiss softly or easily or even passionately. He kissed roughly, forcefully, a kiss that was meant to tell her he was taking control and she should yield to him, which she did and not unhappily.
He pressed her there, kissing her all the while, forcing her tongue to do what his wanted her to. As they kissed he reached between them and let himself inside her skimpy uniform bottom and her panties underneath.
Edelgarde kissed back now more greedily, more hungrily. She moved gently with his fingers as they manipulated her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“Say please,” Bill said.
“Please.”
He didn’t stop. He kept on until it was done, fait accompli, le petit mort.”
“I’m breathless,” Edelgarde said. “I need a moment to recover.”
Bill stepped slightly away from her and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag on it and held it out to her. She puffed it from his hand.
“My God,” she said leaning heavily into the wall.
“Merry Christmas,” Bill said.
“It’s not Christmas yet.” Eddie smiled at Bill. “Not by a long shot,” she said.
By Peter Weiss
Even Caesar was wearing one of those Christmas hats, the red velvet cone-shaped ones with the white pom-pom on the top, that and his tuxedo. He was standing at his maître d’ stand looking through his book when Bill came in and first saw him. Instead of the usual black bow tie, he wore a green one with candy canes on it. His facial expression, Bill thought, said “bah, humbug.”
Humbug was how Bill felt. He’d already been in the hotel all day and he would be there all night. His wife was at her parents’ house. They would be going over to her aunt’s house for Christmas eve celebration. Bill would miss that.
After work, Bill would be going to his wife at her parent’s house. Then he would be off to the hotel to work the Falstaff Room on Christmas Day. The room was open early and was closing at ten. No big deal really.
As a lark, when Bill had put the things he’d carried in down in the kitchen, he walked over to Caesar. He and Caesar had not really spoken except for business dealings since their bad start. But seeing Caesar in the stupid hat and Christmas bow tie, Bill sensed two things, first and opening and second a weakness. After all, it was Christmas.
As he approached Caesar, he put out his hand to shake.
Caesar was taken aback. He looked up from his book and reached over the little podium-type stand and shook hands with Bill.
“Merry Christmas,” Bill said.
“Merry Christmas to you,” Caesar returned.
“Maybe we can get past the crappy start we had,” Bill said. “New Year’s is right around the corner. I don’t see any point in continuing the animosity. It’s not good for you, not good for me, and most certainly not good for the room.”
“You’re right,” Caesar said. “Let’s shake on that too.”
“Good deal,” Bill said.
They shook hands a second time and Caesar came around from his stand and walked Bill back to the kitchen.
“What have we got for tonight?” he asked.
“It’s not here yet, but some nice fish and chicken specials. I think the banquet chef is cooking turkeys for tomorrow. There’ll be stuffing too.”
“I don’t have many reservations for tonight. It’s a sleeper I think.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve been doing great business, so I’ve been told. The real measure will come after the holidays.”
“Winter is slower,” Caesar said.
“Maybe we can break that pattern.”
“That would be nice.”
“Well, here’s to a good Christmas and good new year,” Bill said.
He reached out one last time to shake Caesar’s hand. The two men shook hands and Caesar went back to his maître d’ stand while Bill continued the kitchen setup. He put away everything he’d set down in the kitchen then went out to where Kalista was, where they’d left the cart. Jimmy G was sitting by his aunt drinking an espresso.
“Gonna work today?” Bill asked.
“Not unless I have to.”
Kalista reached over to her nephew and slapped him one on the back of his head. “Why you make the boy work so hard?” she asked.
Jimmy G didn’t say anything. He didn’t move either. He sat and quietly sipped his coffee.
“Want espresso?” Kalista said.
“Sure.”
Bill went back to unloading the cart no longer counting on Jimmy G to help out. When he came back through the double door, his hands full, he met with the a surprise which was Rosie and Edelgarde both standing at the entry to the kitchen. They had hung a piece of mistletoe over the entryway. He saw that they wore the same hat as Caesar was wearing. He also saw that they had big cotton tails in the appropriate place on the back of their uniforms. They wore big, big smiles on their faces.
Both girls stepped aside so Bill could set down the things he carried. Then, Edelgarde first and Rosie right after, they each stepped enough into the kitchen such that Caesar could not see them and kissed Bill. They both chose long, passionate and intimate kisses.
By Peter Weiss
Jimmy G was still asleep when Bill got back to the locker room. Bill had expected him to at least be up and stirring, but he was out and snoring.
Jimmy Banquet Chef wanted to throw cold water on his cousin. He was waiting for Bill and shushed him before he came upon Jimmy G.
“Lazy son of a bitch,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said. “Even if he is my own cousin, my own blood. You know how much trouble he’s caused me here?”
“I sort of got the idea from your aunt,” Bill said.
“My aunt likes you. She likes you more than any other cook we’ve had out there. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m being good,” Bill said.
“You been with Beverly?”
“We were just talking,” Bill said. “She’s got a lot going on.”
“You been pretty quiet lately with the girls.”
“I never asked for anything from any of them. I never started anything either.”
“Well it finds you, don’t it?”
“It doesn’t find you?”
“It could. But I got too much family here. Can’t even have whispers coming around. Anyway, let’s get him up and get you going. Bet Caesar’s having a fit without you even showing up out there yet.”
“Good. Let him — I better not say it,” Bill said.
“Yeah. Best keep it to yourself.”
Jimmy Banquet Chef kicked his cousin on the bottoms of his feet which he had up on the bench on which he was laying. When Jimmy G didn’t stir, he kicked him again. This time, slowly, Jimmy G got up and started sitting up.
“Get up you lazy bastard,” the banquet chef said to his cousin. I’m not letting the boy set up all by himself. He offered to, but I told him no.”
“Ya,” Jimmy G said, yawning as he said it. “Ya.”
So they all washed up even though Bill and the banquet chef didn’t need to. Jimmy G ran water on his face to wake himself up. Then they went out to the kitchen floor and Jimmy Banquet Chef peeled off from them and went into the chef’s office. Bill and Jimmy G went by the buffet table which was still out there and filled with all kinds of nice things. Jimmy G made himself a pastrami on rye and stood by the table eating it.
“I’ll get the truck,” Bill said.
On his way back with the truck Bill ran into Rosie and Edelgarde. They were in red today with white trim and white stockings. They both wore Christmas hats. They said quick hellos and went opposite ways, but not before Rosie told Bill she had a surprise for him.
“I’ll be there in a bit,” Bill said.
“We’re gonna be slow tonight,” Edelgarde said. “We always are on Christmas eve. But we’ll be busy tomorrow. Everyone in the hotel comes out to eat Christmas dinner.”
“You know what?” Bill said. “It will be what it will be and then we’ll be done with it.
Bill turned for a moment and watched them walk away from him. He couldn’t help but enjoy the view of their lovely shapes. In the skimpy maid’s outfits their shapes were hidden in plain sight. He could see almost everything if he looked hard enough, but he’d already seen everything so he didn’t have to look too hard to know what he was looking at. They knew he was looking. They knew he liked to look as much as they liked to be looked at by him.
Then Bill was back in the kitchen. Jimmy G was eating dessert, a big piece of chocolate cake. He was clearly enjoying himself and the cake and he didn’t seem to have any inclination to be doing any work at all.
“Ya,” he said to Bill. “Don’t worry. We’ll be ready.”
Bill wasn’t worried. He wasn’t worried at all. He knew they would be ready. He knew if they wanted to they could double-time it and complete their set up in half the time they normally took.
By Peter Weiss
Bill found his way to the staircase shortly after two, later than he’d hoped. The banquet crew was gangbusters, hell-bent on getting out as quickly as possible. They all went into speed gear to clean up, straighten up, put everything away properly. That done, they had a quick holiday drink on the chef and cut out.
Jimmy G didn’t do much to help out. He never did. He did only the least possible that would be accepted. Done a few minutes before everyone else, he went off to sleep. That’s where Bill saw him when he went down to the locker room to wash up before heading over to see Beverly. He did not disturb his partner. They had until three to start setting up for the night.
Beverly was standing looking out the window when Bill got there. She did not turn upon his approach so he walked to her and stood next to her.
He swung his hip and bumped her gently. “Hey girl,” he said.
“Hey boy,” she returned.
“How you doing?”
“I’m actually pretty great.”
“Well that’s good to hear. I’d have thought you’d cut out quick as possible on a day like today, holiday and all.”
“My sister’s on till four. I’m waiting for her. I’m staying with her now for awhile.”
“Really?”
“Yup. So we came in together and will go home together.”
“That why you’re great?”
“Yup. It’s all done. I confronted him. He didn’t deny it, didn’t apologize much for it, didn’t really give me any indication that he was interested in us going on together. So I packed some shit and took off.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Cause I don’t want to pay the rent. Cause I don’t want to be there in that place. Cause I’m taking this as an opportunity to make some new and fresh choices.”
“I’m proud of you,” Bill said. “I’m sorry it went this way for you. I don’t mean what your choice was. I mean what he did that caused you to make the choice. But I’m proud you made it and now you can move on as you see fit. Big grown up decision you made.”
“I have you to thank, in part. I knew I had to do something, but you kind of pushed it to the front and made it the priority.”
“And now it’s done.”
“New day. New dawn. Christmas with my sister and my family, no him.”
“And how do you feel?”
“Relieved. Happy. Sad. Awkward. Alone. Scared. That enough for you?”
“Sounds about right. Kind of like I felt when they led me off to the workhouse. Only scared was first on my list.”
“How could you be happy when you were heading off to jail?”
“Cause I knew exactly what I was getting and I knew it was gonna be over. That was better than being in limbo. Only surprises left were what I would find at the workhouse.”
“You gonna tell me about it?”
“Not now. Right here and right now we should be talking about you.”
“Nothing much to say. I’m thinking about things. I’m making plans. I have some rules.”
“Can’t wait to hear the rules,” Bill said.”
“Only two so far,” Beverly said. “First, no fooling around with anyone here, present company excepted cause we already been somewhat down that road. I mean no waiters, no one out there, nothing that could come back to me. Second is no dating outside of here for at least six months.”
“Sounds good,” Bill said.
“The third one that’s coming, that isn’t quite formulated yet but kind of underscores everything is me first. Just me.”
“That sounds good too,” Bill said.
“It is good,” Beverly said. “All this, what’s happening, is my Christmas present to myself.” Beverly turned to face Bill now for the first time. “You know what I see out there? Outside this window? I see freshness, a cold, clear day with the potential for anything. And that makes me happy.”
“Good for you,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
Turns out that Beverly’s party was not the one Bill’s station dished up. Turns out that Nora’s party was not the one Bill’s station dished up. Turns out that Millie was standing with Chloe by the buffet table in the kitchen when the dish-up went on. Turns out they were standing together and both watching Bill as he worked.
This dish-up was an easy one. His party was one of the bigger ones, for a hundred twenty-six people, more than ninety of them chicken.
The runner, a steward, brought the first pan, and it all started. Bill dished up a chicken, one of the stewards put on the duchess potato and the vegetable and another steward sauced it. The waiter – Bill’s party had all waiters – capped it and stacked the plates on his tray.
One after the next after the next, each one the same, they worked through. The only thing that changed was the waiter. Each waiter took four stacks of five plates and hoisted the tray on his shoulder to head off. As he left, the next waiter placed his tray down and began capping plates. It was frowned upon if the waiter held up the dish-up. The waiters all knew this and made sure not to do so.
Each time a pan got low the runner got a new one. This was also timed not to disrupt the flow of plates. Same was true for the flat kitchen trays of duchess potatoes and the pans of vegetables. Each station had its own runner for those items, and no runner wanted to misstep and mess up the flow.
Continuity, sameness, perfection. Done.
The fifth tray had the remainder of the chicken and the rest fish. A sixth and seventh tray went out with just fish. The fish were placed on a central station out in the dining room kitchen and each waiter took what was needed for his tables.
“Fish will be out momentarily,” was their standard line.
It didn’t take long for all the parties to go. It was a slam-bam, thank you ma’am deal. The waiters hung out to make sure the people all had what they needed, what they wanted, and since the buffet table was back in the kitchen all day and had a better selection of foods than the banquet fare, the waiters didn’t bother to ask for or sneak extra plates for themselves. They did take what they could from the open bar, not in drinking there on the job but by taking bottles of whiskey from the cases delivered.
For these parties on this day, not much whiskey could be stolen, but some was. It would go up for sale on the black market there in the hotel. It was an active black market.
Very little food, when all was said and done, was left over. The fish all went, as did the chicken, though there were about a half dozen chicken entrees left. Because there was sauce left over for both, Jimmy Banquet Chef, in regard for Christmas Eve, decided he would make a fish special. Bill was good with that because a nice fish special sold well and was really easy to serve. It only needed to be warmed in the Dutch oven. The sauce stayed hot on the steam table. Piece of cake.
Immediately after the dish-up when the kitchen end of it was done, the stewards went for more eggnog. They drank it down fast and came back to their respective stations where they began the breakdown. Bill did not drink eggnog. He did not drink anything since he still had a long night ahead of him. But he did keep looking toward the buffet table to see who was there. He did not see Chloe though he would find out that she watched him do his station’s main item dish-up. He would learn that she watched him all the way through, or just until she could cut out without him seeing her.
By Peter Weiss
Soon enough wasn’t so soon.
When they finished the fish, had them all lined up, butter-coated and topped with paprika, when the fish was in the oven, time frame was forty-five minutes to dish-up.
Christmas Eve day. No one wanted to fool around and work later than they had to. Since there were no evening banquets and none on Christmas day, the time off was like a vacation to these service workers.
Four parties, all basically the same menu, they would go off all at the same time, simultaneously, each one from one dish-up station.
Easy peasy?
Not as easy as you might imagine. The most difficult part, almost always, was coordination. The most difficult part of the meal service from the kitchen point of view for any table with more than one person, was bringing it all up together. Even a single table with multiple items in the entrée required coordination of the elements.
Bill had learned this early on, had learned it for keeps when the owner of Suburban, Mr. Bowman, had sat that night in a four-top and ordered the thin steaks rare and the thickest one nearly well-done. Issue: coordination.
Coordination was the same fight he and Lillian, the Suburban expediter, had. She wanted to make sure everything got on the grill so there would be no back up from her end. Bill had to worry about not only that, but the coordination of the tables as well. He also had to worry about not backing up any particular waitress, meaning he didn’t want to put out multiple tables for one waitress all together. It was a ball game and you had play the game as it played out. Being a ball game was what made it fun. Sometimes.
Then too, there were your working partners and their coordinating the items you weren’t personally working on on any table. Sauté cooks and broiler cooks had to be intimate dance partners, each partner knowing what the other one was doing at any given time. If you were doing it all yourself and there were multiple parts to what you were doing, it could be even more complex.
Cooking the food, for the most part, was easy. Today’s fare was simple, just two main courses that had to come out of the oven at just about the same time. Actually, since nothing was being held in warmers, the fish was set to come out about ten minutes past the chicken. This way it would be done and staying warm in the rotary oven (which would be turned off and cooling) while the chicken for each party was dished up. Then there were two different sauces, both with the common element of mushrooms, the same vegetable and potatoes all around.
The stewards and other cooks were already jovial. They’d had some eggnog, rum-laced eggnog. They were happy and peppy and interested in getting things done and getting the hell out of town.
Holiday, who could blame them?
Even the chef was getting out of the hotel. Jimmy Banquet Chef was on for the night to make sure the closing up was okay. But he had some of Christmas day off. Not all. Bill, Jimmy G, Kalista and the room service cooks were the only kitchen crew working. The kitchen and most of the back-of-the-house of the hotel would be like a ghost town.
The Falstaff Room was open for Christmas dinner. Those same people would be working the whole holiday. Sure, they’d make money since it was double-time-and-a-half, but that didn’t make up for not having the holiday. Nevertheless, hotel guests had to be serviced.
They had a moment to smoke a cigarette once the dish-up stations were setup and just before the timer bell on the rotary oven was due to go off. Here was where Jimmy Banquet Chef became traffic cop as well as head of one of the dish-up stations. His first orders were for the stewards to put the potatoes and vegetable out at the stations.
Then the timer bell rang and everything and everyone moved.
By Peter Weiss
They were speaking French. Bill heard it immediately. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could recognize words and understood the words he recognized, at least for the most part. He had studied French in junior high and high school, his mother’s choice, one of the few she’d made for him before she’d died.
Hearing the language had caused him to look, not just glance which he had done when Nora was over at the buffet table. He looked long as he could from where he was working and as often as he could while they spoke.
Nora was a petite, middle-aged woman, small, slight but not slim, almost manly in a way, at least in the tuxedo she wore as her uniform. Then she had the page boy – she always wore that page boy. She showed no breasts to speak of and no real shape, at least not in that monkey suit.
Her biggest claims to fame were the page boy and the dark red lips. She always had dark red lips. And she was droll. She never smiled, never seemed happy, never seemed perturbed. She had a deep voice that carried well, a voice Bill, when he thought about it, considered sexy.
Before now Bill had never heard her talk much. Except the general hellos and how-you-doing chatter, there was just about nothing. But now, she stood at that table talking in French to a youngish woman.
The woman was slender, had straight black hair that fell to her shoulders. She was shapely and loose, free in her posture and the way she moved within the space she occupied.
She was simple and plain in her appearance, Bill noted. She did not wear any jewelry except a pair of diamond stud earrings. No rings, no bracelets, no necklaces. She wore a tan dress, not prudish but not exposing anything. It was, Bill judged, not cheap. He judged this not by his personal expertise, but simply by the way it fit her and the way it hung on her form.
As he looked over, Bill saw that she was watching him from time to time while she spoke to Nora. She watched him, he watched her. He wondered what she was thinking and maybe what she was thinking about what she was seeing.
Bill was loose and easy himself. Like her, he was fluid in his motions, kind of lanky and free-flowing.
The chicken done, when they moved on to roll the filet of sole into paupiettes, Bill noted that the woman left off speaking with Nora and went into the chef’s office. Seeing her not hesitate and not even knock – she just walked into the open door – confirmed who he thought she was, Millie’s boss.
Maybe.
She might be the chef’s daughter, Bill thought. The chef was Scandinavian and he spoke French often. It made sense that his daughter would speak French too, and it also made sense that she might enjoy speaking the language when she had a chance to do so.
But as they worked, the banquet chef made a comment to Bill.
“Pretty, huh?” he said.
“Who?” Bill asked.
“Chloe.”
“Who is Chloe?”
“That one you were looking at. The one who was talking to Nora.”
“I didn’t notice,” Bill said. “Who is she?”
“Yeah, you noticed,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said. “You were sure looking. I think she was looking at you too.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Cause I was watching. I have good eyesight and I know what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw you looking her way. I saw her looking your way. I know your eyes met at least once, but I couldn’t say that for sure.”
“So who is she?”
“My cousin is in love with her. He thinks she’s beautiful.”
“You don’t?”
“Too skinny for me. Too flat-chested too.”
“Yeah, so who is she?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the banquet chef said.
By Peter Weiss
Bill, Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor worked straight through. They sautéed all the chicken breasts and rolled all the filet of sole. They set the sole on sheet pans lined up like soldiers, buttered the tops with a brush and melted butter, sprinkled them with paprika. At dish-up the rolled sole would be covered in white wine sauce with sautéed mushrooms. Bill had made the sauce.
Jimmy G sat on a wooden folding chair, his chair, in the vegetable room. He was smoking a cigarette and enjoying himself while the stewards did all the work.
In this room was a long row of sinks specially built to be one long sink trough with multiple faucets evenly spaced. At this moment water cascaded over stacked pans of broccoli set under each faucet. The water was defrosting the broccoli, many pans of it.
Jimmy G did not budge from his chair unless he had to, and he didn’t have to because the stewards knew exactly what to do and were doing it. They resented his not working. They resented the fact that he continually got away with it. There was little they could do about it, little anyone could do about it.
Jimmy Banquet Chef had talked to his cousin many times about not working. He implored him to make it look good, that he should be working more and harder than anyone else, than everyone else. Jimmy G gave his usual ”Ya,” and did what he did.
The banquet had talked with his aunt many times about his cousin. They both knew Jimmy G was not happy in America and if he had the chance he’d head back to his farm in Greece. But he had a wife and kids to take care of, and he had parents there who ran the farm with other family members. There were kids to be sent to college too. Everything took money. Nothing was better than American dollars being sent over.
The reality of it, the real reality of it, was that Jimmy Banquet Chef was the one who was stuck. He was a chef by trade, by choice. He had worked his way into this position of prominence here in this hotel. Once his job was secured, once the chef, same chef who had been there like forever (and that in itself was somewhat unusual), liked him like a son and relied upon him completely, he was able to start bringing in his family. First came Victor, then Kalista, then some younger nephews who were kitchen stewards. Finally it was Jimmy G who hadn’t known anything and only learned what he needed to know for this job.
Jimmy Banquet Chef was the one stuck because it all depended upon him and his being there.
Jimmy G’s ineptitude greatly increased Bill’s value. But Jimmy G’s laziness caused the chef agita. He ran through multiple broiler cooks because sooner or later the inequity became a sore point and each time there wasn’t enough money he could offer to counter the bad feelings.
And so it went.
Jimmy G smoked his cigarette and read his magazine. Victor, Jimmy Banquet Chef and Bill worked through with the kitchen stewards to make sure all the parties were ready to go. The buffet table kept being replenished by the room service cooks who weren’t happy about it but were assured they’d only have to do it until the banquets were served. Kalista came in to do the salads. She had Adonia and her own stewards who helped her. Adonia was one of the family going to college.
Staff came in and out of the kitchen and ate from the buffet table. Room service cooks filled up the table regularly and put on some of their own things too, like pancakes. The banquet crew worked all morning. When they were done with the chicken breasts, they took a moment for a coffee and a cigarette and went straight to finishing off the fish.
Then it was all into the rotary, the chicken first and the fish later timed to come out for the dish-up.
