Riversong (10 page)

“Can't stand the guy myself, for lots of reasons I won't go into on your first day. But I've seen him do some strange stuff after some beers, so you let me know if he gives you any trouble.” He smiled but his eyes were somber black pools.

A few minutes later, Zac yanked chairs off of the tops of the tables and waved his hand at Lee. “You can tag along tonight. See me do my thing.”

Lee chose another table and began putting the chairs on the floor. “Do you have job descriptions for the staff?”

Zac laughed. “Job descriptions?”

She counted to three in her head before she spoke. “I need to understand how things currently work before I propose any changes.”

His back stiffened, his cheeks flushing. “You need to watch and do.” He slammed a chair to the floor. “Doesn't matter anyway. If you're as smart as my dad thinks, you'll figure out he's a nut and there's no way to make any money in this town selling fries, even if they're on a pretty plate.”

She calculated the situation. She knew nothing about running a restaurant, let alone developing a business plan to make it profitable in this one-horse town, and this man-child would thwart her at every opportunity. She pulled another chair from a table and spoke in a casual but respectful voice. “The business climate is tricky, no question. I need to assess the situation, come up with a viable business plan and market the heck out of it. And, I need your help. I mean, you've been here, you know the business. We could make a great team.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that the kind of bullshit you talk about for a living?”

She ignored his comment and took a tone of conspiratorially. “I know how frustrating it can be when things don't take off, but there could be a great business here, with a few changes.”

Zac had puffy bags under his eyes. With slumped shoulders he gaped at her. “Wherever you've been the last fifteen years isn't even the same planet I live on.”

“I'm just saying -”

“This town is a nothing but a bag of bones. You'll be gone in a couple weeks, and I'll still be stuck here. People like you don't stay.” He went behind the counter and poured himself another beer.

The way his Adam's apple moved up and down as he guzzled the beer turned her stomach and her patience snapped. He was nothing but a pathetic drunk, just like her mother. “Look, we can either make this friendly or antagonistic. Regardless, your dad hired me to do a job and whether you think it's bullshit or not doesn't matter, because I'm here and I need this job in a way you could never understand, having had everything handed to you all your life.”

Zac's face turned purple. “Don't get me wrong. I could give a shit about this place. But I don't want you here, in my business.” He swept his arm across the counter and knocked a stack of plastic cups to the floor. The sound echoed in the empty restaurant.

Her mouth hung open, amazed at how like a child he was. The front door squeaked and she turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway, holding a guitar case. “Everything okay?” His eyes fixated on Zac, the muscles in his forearm twitching as he gripped the handle of his guitar case.

“Don't worry about it, amigo. Lee's just educating me in bullshit 101.” Zac downed the rest of his beer and stormed to the kitchen.

She hugged the fleece to her body and looked at the floor. She felt lightheaded and knew it was from the stress and lack of food. She put her hand on the table and took a deep breath. “That could have gone better.”

“You're white as a ghost.” Tommy pulled a chair out from under the table. “Here, have a seat.”

She crumpled onto the chair and whispered, more to herself than him, “This is going to be even harder than I thought.”

He kneeled next to her. “He's got reasons to make this hard for you.”

She put her face in her hands. Zac was right about one thing, this town, this life, felt like another planet from the one she'd left. She looked up at Tommy and felt there was something he wasn't telling her about this situation. She thought to ask him what he knew but his gaze on her was intense and distracted her. She sensed he was the type that saw other people with a swift clarity, noticing every nuance, twitch and flush. She wondered what he had he cataloged about her today?

Tommy pinched his lip with his thumb and finger as he'd done earlier. “This is none of my business, but, I don't think you should take this job.”

“You have another one lined up for me?”

He stroked the scar on his face with his thumb. “I'm just saying this might be more trouble than you care to get involved in. Given the family dynamics and all.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her matted hair. “I have to make it work.”

He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled, knees cracking as he rose from the floor. “If that's the case, you're going to fit right in around here.” He patted the back of her chair. “Keep the jacket ‘til you're warmed up. I don't need it.”

She felt the warmth of his hand as if he'd touched her skin instead of the chair, even as he walked to the doorway and picked up his guitar.

Minutes later, she sat on the toilet in the bathroom stall and sobbed a heaving silent wail. Here it was again, without warning, a stab of uncontrollable grief. Yet another part of her life that was different. Years of controlled behavior, measured emotion, were replaced with these blind waves of pain. This time it was from Tommy's kindness, the engagement from his eyes, the sense that he understood, that triggered it.

After it subsided to the usual dull ache, she scrubbed her face and hands, reapplied her make-up, fluffed her hair and walked to the kitchen.

A young man wearing a chef's hat, sloped shoulders and blubber like a tire around his middle peeled carrots near the sink. Zac hovered behind him. Neither looked up when she came in. She stood next to the counter and planted a polite half smile on her face.

Zac put his hands in his pockets, leaned on the counter and pointed at the young man. “This is Billy.”

Billy glanced over his shoulder and said, “Hey,” without discernable emotion. He turned on the deep fryer next to the grill and placed a wire basket into the cold oil. Using a large square knife, he chopped the heads of lettuce in half, making a loud thump on the wooden cutting surface.

“Nice to meet you, Billy. I'm Lee. Mike's hired me to see if we can make the place a little busier.”

The blade stopped mid-air and his eyes darted to her and then Zac. He turned back to the lettuce and brought down the blade on another head of lettuce. He cut the lettuce halves into shreds and added them to a monster silver bowl that contained shredded carrots and purple cabbage.

“You ready for tonight? It's Friday, so we'll be packed.” Zac patted Billy on the shoulder. Billy flinched, strode to the walk in refrigerator and pulled out another head of lettuce, along with a container of Velveeta cheese. He tossed them on the counter and opened the industrial sized freezer, pulling out two bags of uncooked frozen French fries and two bags of onion rings.

Zac yanked a folding step stool out of the corner and used it to reach a giant plastic container of ketchup. With his back to her he pointed at the back counter. “Go fill the ketchup bottles. Then put them out on each table.”

Billy stopped chopping. “Code says you're supposed to empty and wash them before filling them up again.”

“That right? Good thing the inspector only comes once a year.” Zac laughed and hit Billy on the back another time. “Make me some white fett. I'm starved.” He left through the swinging doors.

“Whatever you say, asshole.” Billy muttered into the lettuce. He adjusted the heat of the deep fryer. The vat sizzled and the odor of hot oil filled the kitchen. She put her nose into the collar of Tommy's fleece to stifle the nausea.

After she filled the ketchup bottles, Lee wiped the plastic covered menus with a wet cloth, swept the floor, put the salt and pepper shakers out on the tables and changed the beer keg. Meanwhile Zac drank another glass of beer and read the paper in-between giving her instructions. Around 5:30 he went into the kitchen and came out with a steaming plate of Fettuccini Alfredo. The smell made Lee's stomach rumble with hunger.

“So, what's the policy on dinner?” She spoke as if it didn't matter either way. “Is it alright if I eat before we open?” She winced at the squeaky sound in her voice.

Zac, hunched over the bowl, wrapped the fettuccini around his fork, slurped up the noodles, half of them dangling out of his mouth before sucking them in, smearing sauce over his chin and mouth. He swiped his mouth with a paper napkin and pulled the newspaper closer to his plate. “You pay half for whatever you eat.” He took another bite. “Write it on a ticket.”

“A ticket?”

“A ticket.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What you use for writing down an order.”

“Where do I get those?”

“Ask the waitresses when they come in.”

Lee walked to the kitchen where Billy stirred a huge metal pot on the stove. It looked like boiling glue with little green specks and smelled of cooked peas from school lunches.

“What is it?” said Lee, pointing at the pot.

He glanced at her and then looked back to his task. “Broccoli cheese soup.” He pointed at a package on the counter. “Comes from a mix. I'm not really a cook.” He tilted his head and flushed. “I used to be the dishwasher but the other cook quit, so now I'm both.” She asked where the order tickets were kept. “In his office.” He pointed at a closed door with his stirring spoon and turned the knob underneath the burner.

The office was small, no bigger than the closet in her former condo. Posters of Hawaii and California beaches covered the small wall space. The desk, bookshelf and filing cabinet overflowed with papers, files, menus, invoices and employee timecards. On the top of the largest heap was a purple children's diary, with a fairy on the cover and a lock on it. She reached to grab one of the ticket books and her arm brushed the diary. It fell on the floor and the lock popped, opening to a page with a list of names, a series of dates, dollar amounts and one other number notation in the far right column. Some of the names were highlighted in yellow. She glanced behind her, alarmed at what those figures could mean. She closed the diary, picked the top ticket book off the stack and went back into the kitchen.

Billy stood at the counter tossing spices into a mixing bowl. “The soup's kinda disgusting. You want my specialty?”

Lee smiled and wondered what his specialty could be, given his recent promotion from dishwasher. “Great.”

He went to the walk in refrigerator and pulled out a package of hamburger. “This is my secret stash of good meat. The stuff we feed the customers ain't fit for a dog.” He dropped the hunk of meat into a bowl, reached under the counter and pulled out a silver shaker. “I got a secret spice combo that makes it special.” He sprinkled a generous amount over the meat, rolled it into a ball, flattened it between his hands and pressed it into the hot grill. It made a sizzling sound and the scent of grilled meat filled the kitchen. Lee's stomach growled, even as the smell made her nauseous. She shouldn't have waited so long to eat but she needed the little cash she had left for gas, not groceries.

“You want cheese?” Billy asked her. “I got some decent cheddar here I bring from home.” He held up a large chunk of orange cheese.

“Sure.”

He turned the patty once and pressed it down with the spatula before placing the cheese over the top. He reached into bins under the counter and pulled out onions, lettuce and pickles. He toasted a bun on the grill, squirted pink sauce on one half and mayonnaise on the other. He scooped the burger off the grill and onto the bun.

“I just made the first batch of fries.” He rested his elbow on the counter, peering at her. “You want some?”

“Oh no, this is plenty.” Lee took a bite of the hamburger. “This is good, she said, and ate another bite. “What's in the spice shaker?”

He grinned and his face turned pink. “Can't tell you that.” He lowered his voice. “Zac won't let me make it for the customers, says the meat costs too much.” “No one ever orders anything but fries and nachos unless they're from out of town.” He went back to the grill and scraped the tidbits left by the burger meat into the trash.

“We should put this on the menu.”

“No, it's nothing, really.”

The back door to the alley swung open. A tall big-boned woman with enormous bleached blond hair burst into the kitchen chewing a piece of green gum enthusiastically. She wore tight jeans and a low top, which her breasts threatened to fall out of at any moment. The door slammed behind her as she tripped on a crack in the industrial tiling. The oversized straw bag she carried fell out of her arms and spilled a curling iron, lip gloss, and sparkle body powder. When she leaned over to pick up the items a handgun fell out of the side pocket of the bag. It made a loud thud on the cement floor. “Hey Billy baby! Sorry I'm late but I had to stop for a cof a cuppa. Since I turned fifty my get up and go has got up and gone.” She threw back her head with a loud cackle and tossed everything in her purse, except for the small hand gun which she polished with the end of her shirt before tucking it into a pocket on the side of the bag. She spotted Lee. “Holy Crap!” She put her hand to her heart. “You scared me.” She came closer, pulling the glasses hanging on a chain around her neck up to her eyes. “You new?”