A Half Dozen Fools (6 page)

"Most women would fuck him in a heartbeat."

"I didn't say that," she countered dryly.

"I didn't mean to imply--"

"Whatever. I was just making small talk out here 'til you came out of the dressing room."

"Oh, I'm sure--"

"Listen, I had a great time, tonight. Unfortunately, I have to get up early for work in the morning."

"Oh, right, I understand."

"Thank you soooo much for inviting me. And for getting Shar in, too."

"Sure. Any time. Where is she, by the way?"

"Waiting outside. Which is why I have to run." She gave him a quick hug. "See ya," she chirped as she beat feet away. "Thanks again!"

When Elyse reached the lobby, she detoured into the empty ladies room. She took her time applying a fresh coat of lipstick and used the hand cream next to the sink. On her way out, she was looking down pulling on her gloves, when she collided with none other than the famous actor in the baseball cap.

"He-ey," he said, "'Scuse me!" He held her by the arms to steady her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Sorry--oh, hi!"

"What's your name, again?"

"Elyse. Wazinski."

He took his hands from her arms, stepped back and reached out for another handshake.

"Bobby Kressner. Pleased to meet you, Elyse--what is it? Wazinski?"

"Very good," she said, "you catch on quick!" Feeling shy all of a sudden, she added, "Great to meet you, Bobby Kressner. Sorry I've got to run."

"I'm sorry, too." She rushed across the lobby and out the door.

* * * *

Elyse and Shar walked briskly in the cold, in spite of Shar smoking a cigarette. Elyse coughed and wafted the smoke away.

"Disgusting habit, I know," Shar confessed. "I'm gonna quit, one of these days."

"Yay. Can't happen too soon."

The moment they reached Dante's Park, a gust of wind kicked up. They squealed and drew their arms up to protect their faces from the dried leaves and bits of dust it whirled around.

Elyse cried, "It's a bloody gale storm!"

"Really!" Shar motioned toward the building on her left, where red and yellow restaurant lights gaily lit up the entire block. "This look good to you, my love? Because it's looking really good to me!"

They scurried over to the outside door. Elyse read aloud the name emblazoned over the chrome handle, "Bordeaux Barrel Bar and Grill."

Shar yanked the door back, and Elyse followed her inside.

In the vestibule entryway, they were immediately besieged by red velvet curtains meant to trap the cold and keep it from the restaurant. The heavy fabric billowed when the winds swirled in through the open door, entangling the girls. Elyse yelped and giggled in delight, while Shar punched at them.

"Good Christ!" she growled. "Why is there no plastic sealer in here?"

When the two friends finally pushed past the restless curtains, they were amazed to discover the lounge inside teeming with activity. They also drank in the bar's bizarre interior design.

"Geez," Elyse asked, "will you get a load of this?"

Numerous glass light fixtures in the shape of squiggly phalluses hung from the ceiling with red, blue, and white lines like veins running through. A wooden bar resembling a gigantic tree trunk stood mid-center, opposite a semi-circular, sunken dining area where short, bloodred banquettes faced windows overlooking Dante's park.

Elyse said, "Looks like a fun house, or something. But it's kinda creepy, too."

"I read about this place," Shar said. "The designer's some big cheese who had this brilliant concept. Although, it's hard to say just what that concept might have been."

On their way to the bar, the two girls peered through an archway into the vast dining room. Several escalating tiers gave it a scalloped appearance that stretched all the way back to the farthest wall.

Each tier was lined with booths and banquettes, with free-standing tables between. The seats were upholstered in a swirling print of red and dark blue velvet, with not one straight line on any piece of furniture. What would ordinarily have had an edge--say, that of a server station--was wavy or spiral, including chests of drawers and chairs throughout the restaurant.

"Geez," Elyse remarked, "it's like Alice in Wonderland on acid."

"A little of that goes a long way," Shar drawled. "Come on. Let's get a drink."

While they seated themselves at the giant stump of a bar, a tall bartender with long dreadlocks sauntered over and introduced himself as Lucian. After the girls settled in, Lucian described a couple of new wines by the glass and launched into the chef's specials.

"Chef Rick's s a super talented guy," he added. "The southwestern eggrolls are friggin' phenomenal!"

"Mm, they do sound good," Elyse said glancing at the menu. "Give us a minute to read the rest of the chef's offerings, if you don't mind."

* * * *

At that very moment, in the kitchen directly below, the talented chef was having a meltdown. Luckily, the floors were thick and soundproof.

"What happened now, goddamn it?" he was screaming. "Why can't you friggin' waiters get the orders right? This is good food we're wasting! Not to mention my time."

Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the full plate returned by a server and hurled it across the kitchen. Chunks of china and untouched entree exploded in a blaze of color against the gray cement-block wall. Staff members, including the general manager, gawked at the mess. Undeterred by the silent shock his tantrum had induced, the chef went on to plate the next meal.

The GM finally snapped to her senses.

"Guillermo! Grab a towel and dust pan and let's clean that up, please.
Pronto!
" She clapped her hands together to mobilize servers frozen in fear. "And, people," she called, "let's be more careful about getting the orders right.
Listen,
people, listen to what they tell you! Repeat it back, to be sure."

As servers got cracking again, the kitchen resumed a fairly normal rhythm and pace. The general manager fixed a smile on her fleshy face and shuffled over to the chef, now stirring a sauce.

"Hey, Chef Rick? Need a little smoke break, maybe? If you want, José can hold down the fort while you go up and get some air. Only if you want, of course."

The sous-chef continued working quietly and the GM waited on eggshells while the executive chef decided whether to scream again or take a break. Staring into a sauté pan, he decided the whole place was starting to work his last nerve. Nicotine would definitely help.

"You know, Barbara," he said, "that sounds like a good idea." He turned to José. "Man the helm, amigo. Back in five."

The sous-chef nodded and the general manager exhaled. Chef Rick tossed his towel onto the nearest countertop and bounded up the long set of stairs into the dining room.

A stunning, slender blonde happened to catch his eye on her way from the bar to the ladies' room.

"Mm," he mumbled to himself, "got to be a dancer."

He watched her slink out of sight before he went inside the lounge. The moment Lucian saw him, he placed a large Evian water up on the bar.

"There you go, chef."

"Thanks, Lucian." He swigged a third of the bottle in one gulp.

Lucian smiled. "How'd it go down there, tonight? We got a little crazy up here for a while."

"It was a little, shall we say, challenging at times. Nothing too off the charts."

Not entirely convinced, the affable Jamaican nodded and got back to multi-tasking to keep the bar under control.

Before Chef Rick took another swig off his bottle of Evian, he spotted a beautiful brunette seated at the bar. Calling Lucian back over, he asked if she was alone or on a date. Once Lucian assured him that she was with a girlfriend, the chef told him to buy her a drink.

"Make sure you tell her it's from Chef Rick Giordano."

Lucian followed his orders like a pro, and the brunette glanced up at the chef. When he nodded, she raised her glass to him.

The chef groaned quietly.
Man, is she luscious, with the biggest goddamn blue eyes I've ever seen.
An urge to touch her made him twitch with desire.

Lucian came back and informed the chef, "The lady's name is Elyse. And she says, 'Thank you, Chef Giordano.'"

"Maybe the lady will be around when I get off work, in an hour or so."

"Want me to ask?"

"Sure, why not?"

By the time Lucian reached Elyse, the stunning blonde had taken a seat next to her.

"God," she said, "there's, like, no heat in that bathroom! I was freezing my tits off in there. And they're small enough, as it is."

The chef watched Lucian relay his offer to Elyse. Both she and the blonde checked him out before putting their heads together to confer. Without waiting for an answer, the chef sauntered around the bar to where they sat.

"You must be a dancer," he said to the blonde.

"However did you guess?" she said in mock surprise.

He pointed to the side of his head and made a funny face. "When you got it, you got it!"

She snuffed out a little laugh. "I see."

"I'm Chef Rick Giordano." He looked straight at the blonde. "And you are?"

She answered coolly. "Shar."

Chef Rick nodded and shifted his gaze. "And you must be Elyse."

Shar cut in before Elyse could answer. "My, you are just full of information."

The chef glanced back at her. "And what are you full of?"

Shar raised an eyebrow.

* * * *

Elyse knew that look meant Shar was gathering herself for a verbal assault. Quickly, she acted to avoid a sparring match between the two.

"She is full of talent, Chef. This is my best friend, Sharmaine Shazmani. An amazing dancer! She's a soloist with the American Ballet Theatre. Does lots of work on Broadway, too."

Shar flopped a fish-tail hand toward him without further comment. The chef shook it lightly.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "I'm impressed." To Elyse he said, "Nice to meet you, too."

Elyse felt Shar's icy vibes flow in his direction, so she aimed to keep things light.

"Loved the fried wontons, chef," she said. "Delish. And thank you for the drink."

Chef Rick thanked her back and offered to buy her a drink after work. But Elyse politely refused.

"Some other time maybe?" He pulled a card from the pocket of his white chef coat and handed it to her. "I'm off Mondays."

After he went down to the kitchen again, Shar turned to Elyse.

"Okay, he's cute. But he's also a bit of an asshole, don't you think?"

Elyse shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I never went out with a chef before. I hear they're very passionate."

Shar pinched her lips together and narrowed her eyes in thought. A moment later, she said, "Can't hurt to give it a shot." As she paid the tab, she added, "If the chef keeps your mind off that married director, he can't be all bad, right?"

"Right, I guess."

"I've got a date with a lawyer tomorrow night. Twenty years older than me with a paunch out to here."

"What's that about?"

"Free legal advice on how to start a business."

"What?"

They thanked Lucian and bundled up on their way to the door.

"I'm thinking about retiring, soon."

Elyse gave her friend a look of incredulity. "Retiring? You're only thirty-two."

"Yeah, but how many good years do I have left as a dancer, really?"

"You can always do Broadway."

Shar waved a hand as if to brush aside that idea. "I'm getting tired of dance tights. I'm thinking about my future now."

Elyse nodded and slowly absorbed this information, since her friend's decision came as something of a shock. In fact, the notion of Shar giving up dance filled her with a sense of dread. Ever since grade school, dance had been the center core of Sharmaine Shazmani's entire life. And, all at once, Elyse realized that she actually defined her lifelong friend as a dancer, not a regular person.

When they stepped outside, cold air bit Elyse's cheeks. While pondering Shar's intention to retire, a rush of wind swirled round her head, and she thought about her own future. How long could she go on with her mediocre career at the Make-Up Place? A twinge of fear hit her as she imagined her exciting life as a cute, single gal in the Big Apple dwindling down to that of a stooped old woman with feet gnarled from standing too long, living alone in some crummy flat, barely able to make ends meet.

She forced away the anxiety this image produced and concentrated on flagging a cab amid the crazy winds blowing forcefully against her.

An obnoxious, repetitious sound interrupted Elyse's deep slumber. At first she tried to ignore it, figuring it would stop and let her melt back to sleep. When she finally realized it was her telephone ringing, she pulled a pillow over her head until the machine picked up. When it bleated past six rings, she remembered she hadn't turned it on before she went to bed.

Sleepily, she reached over for the receiver. As she brought it to her ear, she glanced at her alarm clock. Its neon red numbers screamed quietly in the darkness: 2:31 A.M.

"Hello," she mumbled.

A man's voice said, "You said to call when I was available."

"Huh? Who is this?"

"Joel. You told me to call you when I was divorced. Well, Dominique and I are over. It's finished. She moved to Florida."

Elyse shook her head and tried to fathom why in the world he was calling at such an hour.

"Joel, it's two-thirty in the morning. Did you have to call me now? I have work in the morning."

"Okay, so, I've had a few drinks. Sorry...I was just so excited."

"It's all right. Can we talk about this later?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"Damn! Is it serious?"

"I don't know, Joel."

"How long have you been seeing him?"

"A little over a month."

"Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I doubt it. An executive chef. Sicilian. Well, from Brooklyn."

"A chef? Those guys are crazy, Elyse. I'm far more even-keeled."