Revenge of the Bully (18 page)

“That's right,” Spats added. “I'm expecting everything to be perfect. I didn't come all this way to get no gravy spilled on me.”

My knees began to shake as I said, “Follow me.”

The Boss had set up a special section for them toward the back of the restaurant. It was partially hidden by a heavy curtain and felt like a private room. We were halfway there when a girl called, “Rodney!” I turned around. All the commotion of the place and my concerns melted away. Jessica wore a light blue dress that matched her eyes. She was sitting with her parents and looked better than I'd ever seen her before. She hadn't told me she was coming. “Rodney, you walked right by us . . .”

I realized that Spats and his group had come to a stop, waiting for me. The Boss was watching. I looked into Jessica's big blue eyes. “I'm busy.”

It wasn't exactly the response she was expecting. It wasn't even what I meant to say. “Well!” she declared, folding her arms and turning away from me.

Spats looked angrily at his watch again. The Boss kept jerking his head in the direction of their table. I had to say something. “Uh, Jessica, I meant—”

“He meant good-bye,” Toothpick cut in.

I had no choice but to continue walking them to their table. As I left I heard Jessica's dad ask, “
That's
the boy you've been talking about?”

Rishi ran up to me holding a basket of bread and a pitcher of water. “Here. The Boss said it was for your table. Isn't this fun, Rodney?”

After finally getting Jessica to like me again I had just blown it—and six people were expecting me to serve them without making any mistakes. “Fun” was the last word on my mind.

I handed out the menus and started to fill the water glasses. Spats, Toothpick, and the two guys with the dented faces were eyeing me suspiciously, but I wanted to look back at Jessica. I turned and was about to mouth the words, “I'm sorry.”

“Watch it, kid!” Spats yelled. I spun around and saw in horror that I had missed his glass and splashed water all over his tie. “Dis is one hundred percent rayon!” he barked.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Hooligan,” I blubbered. I reached out with a swan to blot up the liquid.

“It's Houlihan,” he corrected me.

My heart was pounding. “Sorry, Mr. Hoodlum.”

“HOULIHAN!” he screamed. Half the restaurant looked over. He swatted my hand away from his tie. “You seem pretty nervous, kid. I don't like nervous people.”

“Me? Nervous? I'm not nervous. I'm like this all the time. I have a, uh, medical condition. Uh, Jitteritus it's called. Not contagious, so no worries. Inherited actually. I come from a long line of jitterers on my mother's side. Say, how about them Bears?”

Toothpick pointed his toothpick at me and said to Spats, “Maybe he works for the Feds and that's why he's nervous. We should check to make sure he's not wearing a—”

“Leave him alone,” one of the two women said. “He's just a kid. And he's a cute kid at that.” Despite all the chaos, her words made me smile and glance her way. She had long black hair, wore a lot of makeup, and was pretty. She saw me looking at her and smiled back.

“You making eyes at my lady?” Spats spat.

“Who, me? Eyes? Oh no, I was looking at the painting.” I pointed to a large picture of Moscow just behind the woman's shoulder. “It's beautiful, isn't it? I love the way the sunlight hits the Kremlin. Anyway, let me go get some more butter for the bread. Can't have too much butter, right?”

“You just tell Francis that we're hungry. I want to see what my investment tastes like. And shut that curtain so we can have some privacy!”

I nodded, shut the curtain, and headed straight to the Boss. He was standing just outside the kitchen door and held up his hands as if to ask, “How's it going?”

“Well, Francis . . .”

His eyes locked onto mine. I thought I was a goner.

CRASH!
Another dish could be heard smashing in the kitchen, followed by an “Oops!” from Josh.

“Careful!” the Boss yelled through the swinging doors. “One more and it comes out of your salary.”

Before he had a chance to yell at
me
, I grabbed some butter off a side table and rushed back to Spats, pulling the curtain behind me. Everyone was studying their menus and talking like I wasn't even there. I took out my pad and pen and stood quietly against the wall until they were ready to order.

“Dis is a disaster,” Spats was saying to Toothpick. “Look at this menu. Who ever heard of meatballs and sauerkraut for an appetizer?”

“No way people are coming back to this place,” Toothpick agreed, flipping through the pages. “Tonight, sure, they're curious . . . but Mama's will be shut by next week and you can kiss your money good-bye.”

Spats didn't like that. “You can kiss
him
good-bye if he don't pay me back.”

“With all due respect,” Toothpick continued, “I never understood why you backed this guy. He's been broke for years now. Borrows money from his mother in the morning and loses it at the racetrack by dinner.”

As I stood there listening, everything became clear to me—but it didn't make me feel any better. A lot more was riding on tonight and my mom's review than I had realized. These guys were much tougher than the Boss. In fact, I was beginning to see that the Boss was a big fake. He bullied us around and wore fancy suits like he had a lot of money but . . .

“You!” Spats barked.

My pen went flying across the room.

“How long you been standing there?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was waiting to take your orders.”

“Been spying on us, huh? This isn't good—for you!”

All four men started to rise. I was about to dive under the table when a hand reached in and pulled open the curtain. “THERE you are!” a voice boomed. “Been looking all over for you!”

I was never so happy to see Mr. Windbagger.

“I'll say it again, Rodney, one heck of a game today!” He came into the room and shifted his attention to Spats and the rest at the table. “I'm sure you all know who your waiter is. That's my boy, Rodney Rathbone!” He grabbed Toothpick's water glass, took a gulp, and raised it up. Toothpick's mouth dropped open and his toothpick fell to the floor but Mr. Windbagger was taking no notice. He said, “A toast—to Rodney leading Garrettsville in our big win against Windham!”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“Now don't be shy, come on, come on . . .” Mr. Windbagger ran around the table sticking a water glass in each person's hand. He stopped behind Spats and gave him a hearty slap on the back. “You too, pops!”

I covered my ears.

Toothpick jumped to his feet and reached for his pocket. “Okay, who do you work for?”

Mr. Windbagger reached for
his
pocket—and pulled out a business card. “Proud to say I run my own agency, Windbag Insurance.” He started pumping Toothpick's hand. “Fred Windbagger here from Garrettsville, USA. I'm a guest tonight of Rodney's mother, Gloria Rathbone.”

At hearing my mom's name, Spats turned in his seat and stared up at me. It was the first time I saw him smile. “Of course, you're Gloria Rathbone's son. Gloria Rathbone of the
Cleveland Plain Dealer
. Francis mentioned you.”

Toothpick, who still didn't know what was going on, asked what he should do about Mr. Windbagger.

“What you should do,” Spats said, “is listen to what this good man suggests we do.”

A minute later the Boss appeared in the room. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found. Everyone was standing, glasses raised high, shouting, “To Rodney, the world's greatest waiter!”

“And running back!” Mr. Windbagger added, whacking Spats again.

“And running back!” they all agreed. “Here's to Rodney Rathbone!”

The Boss was so stunned I had to pour him a glass of water.

After a minute Mr. Windbagger said, “Great meeting you all. Rodney, be sure to stop over at our table and say hi. Oh, and most important”—he turned to Spats and the group—“did everyone get one of my cards? Not sure what line of work you nice people are in, but there's no such thing as too much life insurance!”

Chapter 19

THE HUNGER GAMES

If the night had ended at that moment, making up with Jessica would have been my biggest problem. Unfortunately, I was about to learn of another problem from the Boss. “Meet me and Cheese in the kitchen,” he said so only I could hear. “Willy can take care of Spats and his crew.” He hurried away.

“So,” Spats asked before I had a chance to leave, “your mom's one of dem two women sitting with that crazy guy who was just here?” He stared across the dining room in her direction.

I nodded my head “yes.”

“Good.” He leaned over and whispered something in Toothpick's ear.

“Um, I have to go now,” I said. “Great meeting you all.”

My first order of business was apologizing to Jessica. The Boss would have to wait a minute. As I walked across the dining room to her table I saw a lot of people I knew and said hello to a few, including the Boss's mother, who was all dressed up for the occasion. I couldn't help notice, however, that everyone was frowning and grumbling about how long it was taking for the food to come out.

“Do you know when my order will be ready?” a woman asked as I passed by.

“Any minute,” I said. “I'll check with the chefs.”

“Thank you, son. It's taking forever.”

What was going on with Big Earl and Weasel? I was beginning to guess they might be the reason the Boss wanted to see me in the kitchen, but right now I had trouble of my own. Jessica had spotted me coming and turned her head in the other direction. I was two tables away from her when Coach Laimbardi called out, “Rodney, come over here a second and meet my wife!”

He and Coach Manuel were sitting in a booth with their wives. I shook hands with both women and said to Mrs. Laimbardi, “I've heard so much about you. I'm not sure our desserts will live up to your cheesecake.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, Vince just loves his sweets.” She patted Coach Laimbardi's hand. They all seemed real nice, including Coach Manuel's wife. It was a welcome change from Spats and Toothpick.

Coach Laimbardi said, “Rodney, I still feel like I'm floating after today's game. Pull up a chair, we need to celeb—”

“Rodney!” the Boss ordered from the kitchen door.

“Gotta go,” I said to Coach. “I'll join you when I get a chance.”

I ran over to Jessica's table and started to say “sorry” but had only gotten “so” out before the Boss called me a second time.

“So?” Jessica asked. “That's all you can say?” Her parents frowned and shook their heads.

I tried one last time. “Jessica, and Mr. and Mrs. Clearwater, I promise I'll make it up to you but we're very busy and I have to help out in the kitchen.”

Jessica's father reached out and grabbed my arm. “Can you at least get us some bread? I'm starving to death!”

“Dad!” Jessica blushed, looking prettier than ever.

“Of course,” I said, seeing my chance to set things right. “No problem.” I gave Jessica a wink and was thrilled to see her smile back. “I'll be right out!”

I tore off into the kitchen—and was shocked by what I found. Josh was standing knee-deep in a pile of broken dishes . . . but there was nothing strange about that. I was shocked because no one was cooking.

“Where are the chefs?” I asked the Boss.

“Exactly!” he yelled. “Where are the chefs?”

Cheese shrugged. “Haven't seen them in an hour.”

Besides the fact that restaurants tend to get bad reviews when they forget to serve food, I felt sorry for all those people sitting around in the dining room. I gave it some thought. “Did anyone check the freezer? I know Big Earl naps in there sometimes.”

Cheese stomped into the walk-in freezer. He emerged ten seconds later, alone and shivering. “It's freezin' in there!”

I was about to say “Duh!” but bit my tongue. I could tell from the panicked look on the Boss's face this wasn't the time for jokes. “What about out back?” I suggested. “Sometimes Weasel hangs out in the alley.”

Before waiting for the Boss to say anything, Cheese disappeared through the screen door. This time he had better luck.

“Put me down!” Weasel whined as Cheese returned to the kitchen. He was dangling in Cheese's left hand. Cheese's right hand gripped Big Earl.

“Where do you want dem?” Cheese asked the Boss.

“You can throw them in that pot of boiling water for all I care.”

For a second I thought Cheese might do it. Instead he let them go as the Boss approached and started yelling, “Where were yous? Everyone's waiting for their dinner! Have you made the borscht? The meatballs? Stuffed the cabbage?”

Big Earl shrugged like he didn't care. “I don't know how to make that food.”

“What?” the Boss hollered. “We went over the whole menu!”

“Yeah, all that weird stuff,” Weasel mumbled. “I only make scrambled eggs.”

“This is a disaster!” The Boss stuck his head in his hands. “I'm ruined! You two are going to get me in real hot water with Chicago!”

Josh looked over into the pot of boiling water and scratched his head.

“Anyway,” the Boss continued, “get going and cook the things we talked about!”

“Hey, you can't yell at us,” Weasel cut in. “We just got a real good job offer from some lady outside.”

The Boss snapped his fingers and Cheese's weighty hand clamped down on Weasel's shoulder. Weasel glanced at it nervously. The Boss's voice went smooth, quiet, and frightening. “I can yell at whoever I want, see? Whenever I want. Now, what lady are you talking about?”

“I don't know, some old lady with red hair. She just left. She said she'd pay us double what you're giving us. She said we should quit now without notice. After all, she reminded us, we're respected chefs.”

An old lady with red hair!
I'd spent the afternoon hoping that the clown mask had just been a scare tactic to throw me off in the game, but now I knew for certain. Mrs. Lutzkraut had heard me in the park that day and was trying to make sure Mama's got a bad review. Anything to get me in trouble.

“Respected chefs?” the Boss was screaming. He kicked the stove and threw the garbage pail against the wall. “You two idiots are fired! Cheese!”

“Boss?”

“Get rid of dem!”

Big Earl and Weasel didn't need any encouragement from Cheese. Making like his eggs, Weasel scrambled through the door with Big Earl close on his heels.

Once again, Mrs. Lutzkraut had gotten her way. Like some evil wizard or witch, she didn't even need to be present to accomplish her goals! Mama's Restaurant was now without its chefs. I shook my head and watched the Boss pace around the kitchen breathing hard. Josh watched the pot on the stove. “Bubbles!” He laughed.

The happy outburst brought the Boss back to his senses. He turned to me. “See that, Rodney? That's how you handle a problem. Do it fast and hard. It's never a good idea to think too much.” He straightened out the front of his suit—and suddenly smacked his forehead so hard that his head snapped back into some hanging pots. For a few seconds they swung and clunked into each other. “What am I going to do?” he cried. “I just fired our chefs!”

Evidently it took a few minutes for news to reach his brain, but now that it had arrived the Boss looked truly frightened. “Cheese, go out front and try to keep the customers happy. I'll think of something.”

As Cheese walked by me he said, “Oh, I'm supposed to tell you that your bratty friends are here.”

I guessed that wasn't the exact wording but I got the idea. After the football game, Wendy, Kayla, Dave, and Slim had said they would try to get their parents to drive them over to Mama's tonight. They all wanted to see Josh, Rishi, and me dressed as waiters . . . even though I told them we were just busing tables. In all the excitement I hadn't noticed them. “Where are they sitting?” I asked Cheese.

“They only wanted Cokes so I stuck 'em at that broken table off the dining room.”

The dining room!!! I suddenly remembered Jessica's father and the bread. Now Jessica would be
really
mad at me—and for good reason. I turned to the Boss. “Where's that bread I saw before? That the bakery delivered?”

He pointed without looking to the corner of the kitchen. Most of the trays were empty but there were two loaves left. I grabbed one, cut it into slices, threw it in a basket, and rushed through the swinging doors.

I was halfway to Jessica's table when I noticed the flowers.

Some guy in a suit was placing the biggest, craziest floral arrangement I'd ever seen right on top of my mom's table. All around her, people began sneezing and blowing their noses. Eyes were watering. The whole restaurant smelled like a giant florist. My mom looked worried and was waving me over excitedly. As I got closer to her table I noticed a silk banner hanging from some roses:
WE'LL MISS YOU, FIDO
.

“Rodney, do you know anything about this?” my mom asked.

I guessed it was my mom. I couldn't really see around the flowers. “I have an idea who might have sent them,” I said, remembering Spats whispering to Toothpick. “By the way, where's dad?”

“He's with Rishi. Now Rodney, you know it's supposed to be a secret when I review a restaurant!”

“Nice going,” Penny added, “and who are your creepy friends over there?” She motioned toward Spats's table.

“Um, just some people I have to wait on tonight.”

“Very nice people, actually,” Mr. Windbagger told his wife. “Salt of the earth type. Say, is that for us, Rodney? The little miss and I are starving over here.” He was eyeing the breadbasket.

“Um, sure.” I placed it on the table, praying that Jessica and her parents weren't watching. Just then the front door opened and Pablo walked in, looking shy and a little scared. “Excuse me,” I told my mom. “I have to go.”

“But Rodney . . . the flowers . . .”

I met Pablo at the door. He wasn't exactly dressed up. In fact, he was wearing his trademark gray hoodie, his jeans were covered in grease, and I noticed his hands were black. “What's that smell?” he asked.

“Just some flowers. Listen, where have you been?”

He looked sad. “Sorry I'm late, Rodney. The chain on my bike broke on the way here and it took a while for me to fix it.”

“That's okay,” I said. “You can wash in a second, but right now we better go see the Boss. Everything's going wrong tonight.”

As we headed toward the kitchen I noticed Rishi and my dad hooking up wires to a big TV that hung across the back wall. I was about to ask what they were doing when I heard, “Pssst!” from Spat's table. I went over to investigate.

“So,” Spats asked, “did your mom like the flowers? If that don't get us a good review, I don't know what will!”

I was about to say, “Good food wouldn't hurt,” but I had already been down that road with the Boss. Instead I just thanked him.

Toothpick looked like he was ready to eat the tablecloth. “Where's da food we ordered from Willy?”

Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, I said, “Should be out in a minute,” and turned to join Pablo, who was talking with Rishi and my dad.

Rishi was grinning like a fool, which usually spelled trouble for me. “Rodney, check it out! I came up with a great way to keep people occupied while they're waiting for dinner. Your dad and I just hooked it up.” He clicked a remote and I was shocked to see today's football game against Windham appear on the TV. “You like it? It's plugged into my phone. I edited it so people can watch the highlights.”

I doubted that anyone but Coach Laimbardi and my dad would enjoy it, but at least it would keep people's minds off their stomachs! “Great,” I said.

Still looking at the TV, Rishi asked, “Oh, did you see the gang? They're sitting in the corner. Josh just went over to say hi to Wendy.”

“I'll go over in a minute. Listen, we have a big problem. Mrs. Lutzkraut fixed it so we don't have any chefs in the kitchen. All these people will freak out when they realize there's no food coming—especially those tough guys from Chicago. Rishi?”

“Here comes the part where Coach Belicheat throws his phone in the grass!”

I shook my head. “Let me know how it ends.”

As Pablo and I headed back to the kitchen, he said something that was to change the events of the night—in lots of ways. “If you need someone to cook,” Pablo volunteered, “I'm pretty good at it. I'm the one who cooks for my family. You know, with my mom gone and all . . .”

“Yeah? Do you think you can cook for
this
many people?” I motioned to the hungry diners . . . and found myself staring into Jessica's angry eyes. The bread! “Wait right here,” I told him as I dashed over to where she and her mom were sitting.

“Forget something?” Jessica asked.

“I'm so sorry. All this stuff is going on. I'll get some bread and come right back. I promise!”

“Promise?”

“Promise! Hey, where's your dad?”

It was Jessica's mom who answered this time. “He went out for pizza. Said he couldn't take it anymore.”

I felt awful . . . until Jessica giggled. “He's really in the men's room.” Both she and her mom started laughing and I realized that Mrs. Clearwater had the same fun sense of humor—and smile—as her daughter.

“Good one.” I laughed. “See you in a minute.”

I grabbed Pablo and headed into the kitchen, eager to tell the Boss that I might have a solution to his chef problem.

“Who's this?” the Boss barked, eyeing Pablo up and down. “Like I don't got enough on my mind.”

“This is my friend Pablo,” I said, not liking the way the Boss was acting in front of him. “He's the fourth guy who's helping out tonight. He designed the menu.”