“How did you plan to sleep?” Beverly asked?
Bill looked at her. “You’re pretty,” he said.
Beverly smiled at him, kissed him once on the cheek. “Really, how were you planning to sleep?”
“I thought I’d lean up against the wall there, where you’re sitting. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I’ve slept on stairs before.”
“Want me to leave you alone?”
“No. You want to cut out?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. I wasn’t planning to see you. I was planning to hang out a bit and then go on back to the locker room and see who’s there. If I’d have known I was doing a double, I’d have planned to go home in between.”
“We can sleep together here,” Bill said.
“You can put your head in my lap.” Beverly motioned for him to do that, to get himself comfortable.
Bill did not hesitate. He moved so that he was leaning somewhat on her and settled his head in her lap. First thing he did when he was nuzzled in was to smell her much as he could. His head was kind of sideways so he shifted several times attempting to get comfy.
For her part, Beverly spread her legs, moved them with him, asked him if he was comfortable. Together they were able to get somewhat settled, but not for long.
“We’d do better on the floor there,” Beverly said. “By the window.”
“You think? I’d be afraid someone would come along.”
“Believe me,” Beverly said, “no one comes here. And if anyone does, we’ll hear them before they come upon us.”
“What the hell,” Bill said.
Bill took off his apron and laid it on the floor. Beverly settled her tux jacket on it. They sat down next to each other, leaned against the wall where there was a radiator and a full window above it. Wasn’t long before Bill once again put his head in Beverly’s lap. This time he got comfortable. Beverly sat stroking his hair.
“This feels good,” she said.
“Yeah, it does.”
“Sleep if you want to.”
Bill closed his eyes. No way he was going to sleep but he did rest, he did keep his eyes closed and he did enjoy Beverly stroking his hair.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“Nothing much,” Beverly said. “I kind of wish we had a place to go. I kind of wish we had a nice bed to lay down in and do whatever we did.”
“Having a place to rest comfortably would be nice.”
Beverly leaned down to kiss Bill. Bill sat up some to make it easier for her and then they shifted so they were side by side again. “If we’re gonna make out, we should go back to the stairs.”
“You want to make out?”
“You?”
“Let’s go to the stairs.”
They spent a long time kissing. They sat next to each other and didn’t really touch each other. Their lips met gently, softly, playfully. They spent a good moment closed-mouth, feeling each other’s lips. Then Bill opened his mouth and sucked her lip softly, pulling at it.
They sat. They kissed. They finally let their tongues meet. It was nice because their tongues had met before and now they explored freely, played, had fun.
Only when Bill felt Beverly’s breathing change, only when he heard her let a soft sigh escape did he reach his hands to her. He pulled at her shirt and opened two more buttons so he could slip his hand inside.
The moment he touched bare skin inside her bra, the kissing changed. Beverly became aggressive, almost ravenous. Bill met her attitude with his own.
By Peter Weiss
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.
By Peter Weiss
Bill and his wife were happy with that first paycheck. It was enough to pay the rent and have money left over for groceries and more. It seemed to Bill that they were going to be okay.
Friday and Saturday nights were bitches. The only ones happy were the waitresses. They were happy because they made a ton of money. Bill knew this because he and Rosie ended up taking a break together in the ramp. Bill had come to smoke a cigarette. Rosie was already there. She was sipping a soda. When Bill leaned against the wall next to her, she handed him her cigarette without saying a word. Bill took a deep draw on it and leaned heavily into the wall. He’d brought a coffee with him, sipped it, took another draw on the cigarette and handed it back to her.
“What a night, huh?” Rosie said.
“Jimmy didn’t get a chance to run off.”
“Yeah. Right? He worked the whole night.”
“You make money?”
“A fortune.”
“Good for you.”
“Me and Eddie are gonna take you out. We already decided.”
“I can’t wait,” Bill said.
“Sarcasm will get you everywhere,” Rosie said.
“Everywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“Was I being sarcastic?”
“Naw,” Rosie said. “You wouldn’t do that.”
They both had a good laugh.
“Boy am I tired,” Rosie said.
“Me too,” Bill said. “I’ve been here since ten.”
“See your girlfriend?”
“I thought you were my girlfriend.”
“I am,” Rosie said.
They laughed again.
“We do a new record?”
“I’m willing to bet we did. I’m willing to bet we’ve set a record for the week so far too, and I’d bet we set a new weekly record after tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Bill said.
“It’s the way the kitchen is running.” Rosie looked at Bill. “The more the kitchen performs well, the more word goes around that the food is really good.”
“I know. It’s a cycle,” Bill said. “So more people keep coming.”
“Bet the chef is happy.”
“What about your boy?” Bill asked.
“Caesar can go, well, he can you-know-what himself.”
“Yeah,” Bill said. “I know what.” He smiled at Rosie, gave her a good looking over. “I have to get back,” he said.
Back in the kitchen an espresso was waiting for him. Jimmy was reading his Greek newspaper. Caesar was nowhere to be found. It was all good.
Bill and Jimmy took their time. They waited as long as they could before cleaning up. Kalista brought them her home-made Greek pastry and a fresh double espresso. Jimmy sat in his usual seat and smoked a cigarette. He kept it low down so no one from the dining room could see it. In turn, Jo Ann came to say good night, Caesar came for his dinner, Rosie and Edelgarde finished with their last customers and closed out all the work.
Then Jimmy G and Bill mustered up the energy and started into their closing routine. They were a good team now, efficient, swift. One could read what the other was doing and work around it. In just about no time they had the truck loaded and were ready to head over to the main kitchen. They said good night to Rosie and Edelgarde, packed up Kalista’s main kitchen items on their truck and headed off.
By Peter Weiss
The holiday season would come up quickly. Banquet sales kept the chef well-informed about the bookings and the chef told Jimmy Banquet Chef who passed it along to the banquet crew. No rest for the wicked.
By the end of week three things were more or less routine for Bill. The Falstaff Room was busy and stayed busy. Mondays were a touch slower than the other days and the weekends were gangbusters. It was sufficiently busy such that Caesar adjusted the schedule so Jo Ann came in a half hour later and worked until Rosie and Edelgarde were assured they could cover the closing. The change only affected about an hour’s time and it was in Jo Ann’s favor, more or less. Even if she minded, which she did some, she didn’t mind. The real rub was that she had no choice in the matter. Caesar was not one to not continually remind the girls that they could easily be replaced and there were lots of girls ready to step in immediately.
Having Jo Ann there more was good for Bill. Although there was nothing ever said, at least that he was privy to, just due to the circumstances of her being there, Rosie and Edelgarde were somewhat more reserved. That did not stop them from meeting up with him from time to time when no one else was around. Then, they might cop a feel of him, say something to him, make a suggestive suggestion. He might be standing in the ramp leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. One of them might sidle up next to him with her own drink, a coffee or a soda, bump him gently with her hip, whisper something in his ear.
Bill appreciated regularity. Bill appreciated routine. Bill liked sameness. He did not like to look for things. He did not like to have to see where things were. He liked to be able to reach for something without looking and for it to be there, one time, every time, all the time.
Bill liked regularity and routine in his life. He liked knowing what he had to do ahead of time and then being able to do it without interruption. If anything was getting altered, he liked to be the one to do the altering.
Bill liked having a job. He liked having somewhere to go every day and he liked getting a paycheck every two weeks. His first paycheck was a good one, but it was a smaller one. They held two weeks, so he did not get it until he’d been there a month. He and his wife had to tell the landlady they’d be a little late with the rent, but this time, they expected, would be the only time.
And it would be.
The second paycheck was considerably larger. This one reflected one week at his new rate and it also reflected his new schedule of working all the time on banquets before heading off to The Falstaff Room. This second one, give or take, would represent his usual, and as he and his wife considered things, they understood they could begin to budget finances. For Bill, and for his wife too, which was a good thing, past monthly overhead the first budget item was savings. They had some now, but the goal was to continually add to it.
The week of the day that Bill got his first paycheck was a week that Bill had a day off. He and his wife made a date. In fact they made a full-day date. It was very simple. First they would sleep in. Then they would spend some home time together. Then they would go out for breakfast, even if it was lunch time. Then they would go to visit his wife’s parents. And finally they would spend the evening together doing whatever that might lead to.
By Peter Weiss
The second week went quietly and quickly. Bill worked a lot of hours and managed to spend most of his time away from the distractions of the women there on the job. He saw Millie regularly and Millie was ever Millie. She took to wearing different colored nail polish and lipstick each day and she managed to know, pretty much, when Bill would be having breaks. Two times she took him back to her private hidden space and two times she used him to please herself with him. During the second time, she promised him an uninhibited lap dance and she used the moment to preview what would be upcoming for him.
Bill asked about her boss and how it was that her boss always knew things about him and what was going on in the kitchen. While she sat on his lap facing him, Millie told him that her boss hung with the big boys sometimes even up in the chef’s room upstairs when they held their management meetings. Millie told Bill her boss also played cards with the big boys when they had their regular card games.
Millie was coy. She told Bill that she had a secret to tell him about her boss but he’d have to earn it.
“Earn to learn and learn to earn,” Millie had said. “Cute right?”
“Cute,” Bill said. “But I don’t want to play games.”
“No games.”
“Good.”
And that was it. That was how they’d left it, as that he’d have to earn Millie divulging whatever the secret was, but Millie gave him no clue as to how.
He knew. Bill knew exactly what Millie wanted and he wasn’t overjoyed by it but he wasn’t dismayed either. It was the same thing Beverly wanted, except with Beverly it was a spiteful thing, paybacks for her cheating husband.
Bill knew about being used that way. He had been used that way two times already in his short life, once with his college live-in’s cousin whose boyfriend had come on to Bill’s girlfriend. That one was a wild, raunchy time driven by blackmail, or the threat of it at any rate. Jenny. She was wild.
Bill, for better or worse, had now known some wild women.
The second was Alfreda. She was paying Henry Lee, her husband, back for his messing with the salad girl, Marie. Alfreda threatened blackmail too, threatened to make up some wild stuff about Bill and pass it on to Henry Lee.
For his part, Henry Lee pushed Marie on Bill. Bill had held her off long as he could, but there came the point when it was easier to get it done with than fight it all the time.
This was how it was with Millie. In her mind their being intimate, or being partners, or being whatever it was they were being, was — he didn’t know what she had in her mind — something he knew he should be staying away from but something he didn’t stay away from, maybe didn’t really want to stay away from.
Maybe that was true of Beverly too. She was another getting-even girl. The only non-getting-even girls were Millie, Rosie and Edelgarde. They were just the fun ones.
Norma was a fun one. Drenovis had told him she was a put-it-anywhere girl, and she was just that.
Still, but for the two times with Millie and some quick clandestine meets with Rosie and Edelgarde, Bill had a hard-working, long-hour week, one where he worked from mid-morning through The Falstaff Room hours. This would be, although he didn’t quite know it yet, his new norm, his regular work week, somewhere between ten and twelve or thirteen hours a day, sometimes even more, mostly seven days a week although he got Sundays off when he could.
Millie’s secret about her boss was out there somewhere. The Falstaff Room, after a slow start on the Monday, had another great week. Maybe, Bill thought, it was that the holiday season was coming up quickly.
By Peter Weiss
They had talked about these things. Bill, the chef and the banquet chef had pretty much set the parameters for Bill. They had told him clearly what he could and couldn’t do. He wasn’t supposed to fraternize on company time, but in the scope of things, since cooks like Bill never actually got their union-recognized breaks, the chef didn’t hassle them much for resting when they could. Bill and Jimmy G were responsible for a service so it was assumed they’d take breaks and deal with personal matters as they could. How they did it was left up to them.
The banquet cooks working only banquets did get a lunch break. Most of them ate in the kitchen. Few of them actually took their scheduled time. Instead, and this was strictly decided by Jimmy Banquet Chef who had okayed it with the executive chef, they left when the work was done, all the work, and often this was earlier than the end of their designated shifts. They ate while they worked or when they were in a lull. Lulls happened all the time, those moments when there wasn’t anything to do, when they could run to the bathroom or smoke a cigarette.
Kitchens were a small, tight world. Even a big kitchen like this one was a small, tight world. Things went well in kitchens like this one when they went well. Things were tough when they weren’t going well. Jealousy and envy threatened harmony from time to time, why, as Bill had learned, the cook he’d replaced had quit. He didn’t like that Jimmy G got over all the time.
R&R got in the way of harmony too. Big time. At least a half-dozen of the banquet cooks and even more than a half-dozen waiters were dying to get into Millie’s or Beverly’s pants, and everyone was hot for the two Falstaff Girls, Rosie and Edelgarde. Overall, this did not bode particularly well for Bill. He was brand-spanking new and he been there/done that with all three. It was only a matter of time until the word spread.
Insecurity was another threat to kitchen harmony. Room service cooks didn’t want Bill to know their jobs for fear he might one day replace one of them. Same thing for some of the banquet cooks. They were afraid and resentful at the same time and a few of them were jealous too since Bill had risen up as he did.
Bill was not thinking about these things. On his way home after speaking with the chef ever-so-briefly, Bill was thinking about what the chef had said about Caesar, how the chef was using him as a pawn in a game of power. “Suck it up,” the chef had said, which meant basically that Bill had to play his part in the game. Doing so and playing it well meant that he’d be protected, and his protection was from the top.
Bill was thinking that he didn’t want to be part of the palace intrigue. Bill was thinking, more than anything else, that all he wanted was to work. He didn’t want the girls. He didn’t want intrigue. He didn’t want the power games. He simply wanted to go to work, to earn his pay and to come home.
Working at Suburban had taught him that although it should be, it was never that simple. He had been learning from all different angles that the human condition almost always got in the way of simplicity. The human condition almost always messed things up.
By Peter Weiss
“Eddie’s fixed too,” Rosie said.
Bill was back in the kitchen and working at the cleanup. Jimmy G had stepped out to get the kitchen truck, or at least that’s what he had said. But he’d been gone longer than just going for the truck.
“That’s good to know.”
“She wanted me to tell you.”
“That’d be all I need.”
“Us too.”
Bill looked at Rosie as she stood on the opposite side of the serving window. “Not as busy,” he said.
“Not bad though,” Rosie said. “We all made money. And Caesar is happy. Well, except for that we ate fish and except for that he doesn’t like you and he certainly doesn’t like the position you’ve gotten into.”
“Too bad for him. All he had to do was be nice from the start. All I wanted was to work here. I didn’t ask the chef or the banquet chef for anything.”
“Sometimes it just works the way it works.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
Jimmy G came back with espresso for him and Bill. They stood awhile and drank their coffee not bothering to do any work. Rosie stepped away and went back to her own work.
They had it down now. Jimmy G had fallen into doing certain things and Bill did others so that they coordinated and accomplished their work very quickly. It was more a matter of finding the inclination to do the work than anything else.
When they had everything in the kitchen either put away or packed away on the kitchen truck, it was almost midnight. Eddie had come to tell them there would be no more orders and Caesar had come snooping around a few times to see what they were doing. Before Bill had come to work there, as Jimmy G told it, Caesar would have stepped into the kitchen and helped himself to what he wanted to eat. But now, he would come to look, either from the server window or from the doorway, but when he was at the doorway he wouldn’t step in. This was a good thing.
“I don’t like anyone but us touching the food,” Bill said.
“Caesar won’t mess with you now,” Jimmy G said. “He’s not scared. It’s just not worth his while. You’ll see. Soon as he can, he’ll take it out on the waitresses.”
“He’s a pussy,” Bill said.
“He’s smart,” Jimmy G said. “He’s biding his time now and you need to watch your back.”
“I hear you,” Bill said.
Bill triple-checked to make sure everything was off in the kitchen and everything that should be was put away. Assured that all was in order, he and Jimmy G stepped out and took the kitchen truck down through the double doors and out to where Kalista was.
Kalista was all done. She’d been all done for awhile now and was even ready to walk with Bill and Jimmy G. Bill could see that she had her purse on her arm and she’d done her make-up a little, or, at the very least she’d put fresh lipstick on.
Jimmy G said something to her in Greek and Bill watched as she pointed to several items that were sitting out but covered with film. These were the things she wanted the boys to take back to the main kitchen on their truck.
Jimmy G jumped as it were and grabbed up the things. It wasn’t much, just some of her own home-made Greek pastry and some salad that had been brought over and not used but which could be used on banquets for the next day.
Jimmy G stacked Kalista’s things on top of theirs and when the truck was settled, the three of them headed off and away toward the main kitchen.
The main kitchen was sleeping for the most part. Room service was working from its own kitchen station, but nothing else. Only the chef’s office was brightly lit and the chef, they could see, was sitting behind his desk reading the newspaper.
By Peter Weiss
Bill did Caesar’s steak quickly and plainly. His instinct was to cook it more than Caesar liked it, but he didn’t do that. Not using the food to satisfy his negative personal feelings was one of his rules. The exception to this was for positive feelings, for making things extra special, which he did for his three Falstaff girls all the time.
He plated the steak medium rare, put vegetables and a baked potato to it. This was Caesar’s usual. Done, he told Jimmy G he was heading off to the bathroom.
Jimmy G had enjoyed plenty of time away from the kitchen. He didn’t particularly care that Bill went off. He was sitting reading a Greek magazine. So what else is new, Bill thought.
Rosie was out by Kalista getting coffee for one of her tables. Jo Ann had said good night and was gone. Caesar was sitting alone quietly eating his dinner. Kalista was finishing up what she could of her clean-up.
“She’s waiting for you,” Rosie said when Bill stopped by her. “She’s quite excited too.”
“Okay with you?” Bill asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be? I want you to. I want all of us to be together.”
Bill smiled at Rosie. He didn’t say anything but he wanted them all to be together too. Meantime he headed off to the distant bathrooms.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Rosie said mostly to his back as he headed off.
Edelgarde was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. She handed the cigarette to Bill without saying anything. He took a puff, stood by her.
“Took long enough,” she said.
“Came as soon as I could.”
“There’s no one inside.” Edelgarde winked at him and took his hand to lead him in.
As he did with Rosie, Bill locked the door behind them. Once that was done, Edelgarde did two things. First, she kissed him, not a gentle simple kiss but a long, full one. Second, as they kissed she took Bill’s hand and placed it on her bosom.
“I’ve been so waiting for this,” she said.
Bill didn’t say anything. He hadn’t been waiting for it and he hadn’t been avoiding. It simply was what it was. He concentrated on her taste, on her feel. She took the liberty of distracting him by concentrating on feeling him.
They stood a long moment not far from the entry door just kissing and fondling. But then Edelgarde led Bill inside a stall, as it happened, the same stall Bill and Rosie had been in.
“I want more than Rosie got,” she said.
“Rosie got plenty.”
“You sit down,” she said.
Bill sat on the closed toilet seat and motioned for Edelgarde to straddle him, but she didn’t. First, she undid his fly and let him loose. Then she kissed him, again long and hard and deep. Next she did a few other things after which she took down her own panties.
She straddled him facing him so they could kiss when she wanted. The moment she was on him she moaned. The moment his essence met her essence she uttered a long “mmmm” and whispered “Sweet Jesus” in his ear.
When Edelgarde was fully settled on him she put her arms around him. He put his around her waist and held her. They sat there, her straddling him, hugging each other and kissing all the while.
When they were done, Edelgarde stood up and straightened herself. Then she helped Bill up and she put him back together. She did this lovingly, carefully, taking care of him all the while as she chose to do it. When they were both all back to straightened up, she kissed him again then went to the mirror outside the stalls and fixed her lipstick.
“All my close friends call me Eddie,” she said on their way back. “I think that’s what you should call me now.”
By Peter Weiss
Bill fed the waitresses on schedule. Jo Ann ate first and then Rosie and Edelgarde. They all ate fish with double orders of vegetables, not the special because that was sold out. He made it nice for them by making it personal. He sautéed some of the leftover mushrooms in butter with white wine and lemon juice and then added capers.
The waitresses were his allies. He had won them over in two nights, not by having done anything special but simply by being a good cook and making it so the food that went out to the customers was primo. Pretty, steaming hot and good: that was the key. When push came to shove, the first two of the three were the key ones. They would almost always get you by. Pretty good would do, but not if it wasn’t steamy hot and pretty.
As a special added touch he garnished it with a sprig of parsley. Each of the girls told him yummy when they’d picked up their food and they told him super yummy after they’d eaten.
Caesar was the only unhappy person. He was losing his girls. He knew this and he could feel it. He sensed that Rosie and Edelgarde were sweet on Bill, but even Jo Ann was changing allegiance. Part of it was Bill’s emerging status as first cook of the main kitchen and his having final say over the food in The Falstaff Room. Part of it was that Bill was just plain nice. The final part was that she hated some of the things Caesar did, first and foremost the uniform inspection every day during which time Caesar’s hands were on her, on them all. She hated that, they all hated it.
Jimmy G cut out again at 11:00. He stayed gone while Bill did the last orders and until that last set of tables was served. Once again Bill did not mind even though he had to go to the bathroom and he wanted to get a little walk and take a rest. He told Edelgarde that if she still wanted him to hold her skirt for her, she could meet him at the same bathroom he and Rosie had used soon as Jimmy G came back. She said she just couldn’t wait. He asked her to get him an espresso.
Edelgarde came back a few minutes later. She had a double espresso for Bill set in a coffee mug. They didn’t use mugs in The Falstaff Room. They only used fine china. But room service used mugs and Kalista kept a stash of them by her all the time just for times like this.
“Kalista told me to take good care of you,” Edelgarde said when she delivered the espresso. She winked as she said it and did a little wiggle. “I’m planning to,” she said with a smile.
Bill couldn’t help himself. He felt the little itch start to stir and he took a good look at her as he sipped the coffee. He would have said something, but Caesar came by. He’d come to order his own dinner but he said something first about the girls eating the filet of sole.
Bill didn’t respond to Caesar, not directly. Caesar had asked for a steak and Bill asked how he wanted it cooked. He asked it as he was turning his back to fetch it and get it done for him quickly, not because he was interested in pleasing Caesar but because he wanted to meet Edelgarde. He already knew how Caesar liked his steak cooked. He was feeling curious now to see what Edelgarde tasted like, how she felt. They hadn’t really kissed yet, never really touched, and he was curious.
Of course, as the saying went, curiosity killed the cat.
By Peter Weiss
For the most part they were done by 10:30. It started getting slower by 10:00. Bill was happy with how it went. They sold out all the filet of sole special fairly quickly and Bill made a mental note to tell Jimmy Banquet Chef they could have used another pan. They also sold mostly good food, prime rib, quality steaks and lobster tails.
Jimmy G stayed gone early-on long enough for Bill to do most of the early orders by himself. Jo Ann, who was the one who relayed most information about things told Bill that this was nothing unusual, that Jimmy G was notorious for such behavior. In fact, she said, it was one of the reasons the cook Bill replaced finally called it quits.
Truth was Bill was happy working alone. Unless there was such a huge rush that it was impossible to do so, Bill preferred to handle everything. Not only did he prefer it, but he was good at it. He worked steadily, methodically and purposefully.
Most of the tables were Jo Ann’s. She was early girl and this night, unlike most nights last week, she would be able to go early too. As it got busier, Rosie and Edelgarde stepped in to assist. It wasn’t long before Rosie was standing before Bill on her side of the open service window. Bill had his back to her mostly. He was turning and adjusting things on the Garland. Done with that, he opened the Dutch oven and peeked inside at the two sets of lobster tails and two orders of salmon.
Normally, Jimmy G would be working the stove. For these orders nothing from the sauté was needed but Bill did have to heat up vegetables. He did this for all the orders together, spooning vegetables into melted butter inside a sauté pan large enough to hold what he needed. It only took a moment to get it all set. Bill tossed salt and pepper into the vegetables and worked the frying pan. He left it a moment and slid down further to the fryers where he dropped a basket of French fries. That done, on his way back to the broiler he worked the frying pan one last time and moved it off the heat.
Rosie stood watching. What was going on in the kitchen was nothing new to her. She’d seen it all before. Still, she couldn’t help but asking Bill if he was okay.
“I got this,” he said. “Easy peasy.”
“Well, you make it look easy,” Rosie said.
“This is nothing,” Bill said. As he said this, he flipped some of the items on the broiler. Some he flipped and moved toward the front. That done, he opened the Dutch oven again and used his tongs to pull down the two orders of lobster tails that were together on one metal plate and the two orders of salmon that were together on another metal plate.
Now he made one last trip down to the fryer. He shook the sauté pan with the vegetables on the way. The fries were close but not quite done so he left them cooking, shook the vegetables on his way back to the Garland.
He quickly plated the first order, a three top, the two salmon and one of the steaks he’d moved to the front. He used his tongs to do this, the tips to slide the salmon to the plates then grip and tip the hot plate to cover the fish in buttery juice. The steak was an easy grab and set-down. He quickly slid to the stove. With his left hand he took up the frying pan of vegetables. With his right hand he reached and lifted up the basket of fries. He set the basket on its shelf to drip out.
A moment later the plates were complete, garnished and set up under the warmer lights.
“Pretty, right?” He said. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He was already on plating the next table.
