“Get the lead out, Johnson! Charlegne will be here any second, and if she doesn’t see you at her table, it will be your neck on the line!”
Li raced into the kitchen. Executive Chef William Laurence expedited the service, his belly clogging the pass-through like a huge cork. Spouts of fire growled among the many white coats attending them. The chef’s voice bashed against the normal kitchen noise. “Filet mid-rare! Two trout! Two lamb medium! Salmon tartare! I can’t wait all day!”
With the Brents’ order delivered, Li hustled into the dining room and plowed toward the Captain’s Table. His feet protested in his too-small dress shoes.
“What took you so long, Johnson?” Paul hissed. “Did you come by dog sled? Get your ass over to Rosemary Hale’s chair and pull it out! Christ, it’s like I have to train you all over again!”
Li did so. Rosemary thanked him and turned her attention to the sommelier who was offering a wide selection of expensive Pinots. He saw taut wrinkles pull against her lips. They were sisters to his own.
“So what’s the best grub on the menu anyway?” Rosemary asked.
Her question went unanswered. The guests’ attention was arrested by the entrance of Charlegne Jackson, easily cast as Aphrodite dressed in moonlight for a classical painting. Sheer silver silk swirled around her lithe figure. Rosemary turned around, and Li saw a fist form at the end of her bangle-choked forearm. To him, the bracelets formed an iron gauntlet. Paul grazed Li’s shoulder as he swept to Charlegne’s side, his shoes competing with the luster of her gown.
“Mademoiselle Jackson,” he said, “you look divine this evening! Like a goddess!”
“Show me to my seat, Jean Paul.”
“Naturally, mademoiselle.” He elbowed Li out of the way, pulling out the seat at the head of the table. Charlegne sank into her chair, keeping her glare locked on Rosemary’s face. Her two compatriots flanked her.
“It’s been a long time, Rosie dear,” she said.
Rosemary’s eyes narrowed. “Not long enough, Charlegne.”
The sommelier poured the Rosé into a champagne flute, the sole one on the table. Charlegne cut him off with sharp flick of her hand. “It always seems like that, doesn’t it? Tragedies from a dozen years ago can hurt as badly as if they happened yesterday.”
Rosemary ordered a stiff brandy. “Becoming a philosopher in your old age, Charlegne?”
“It’s the only entertainment I have, I suppose. I don’t have a family to run back to like you, dear.”
“You mean the family YOU destroyed?”
Charlegne unleashed a cold smile. “Anything you lost isn’t nearly as bad as what I lost, Rosie.” She drained her champagne.
Rosemary’s teeth buried themselves in her lower lip. Her half-tamed mane of hair bristled with latent electricity. Martin Hale quickly took his wife’s hand and stroked it.
Paul whispered to his subordinate. “Go away and tell Chef Will to fire the first course while I handle the amuse-bouche and the menu.”
Li turned on his heel and swept into the kitchen. Chef Will barked at him the second the double doors parted.
“Johnson! You’re a minute late! This will ruin our turnaround if you keep this up! Your entrées for table forty-six are ready.”
“Fire the first course for Table 50 V.I.P.” Li didn’t bother to address the critique of his work ethic.
“Oh? So, Her Majesty finally showed up for dinner, eh? Very well. I’ll need eight tartares ready to fly, boys! We’ll be serving the soup tableside in the silver tureen. Get moving!”
Li grabbed the two entrées and sped to the Brents’ table.
“There you are!” Aaron roared. “I’ve been near starvation! What kind of dining room are you running here?”
“Apologies for the delay, sir.” Li set the dinners down. Aaron poked his steak with a sausage of a finger.
“It’s COLD! If I wanted cold meat, I would have eaten a ham sandwich! Take this back immediately!”
Li bit his lip. “Right away, sir. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
The chef glowered at Li when he returned. “COLD? What did you do, boy? Now our timing is thrown off! Jack! Refire a filet! Medium! And this time Johnson, don’t be late!”
“Yes, sir.” Li scuttled away with the appetizer-filled cart.
“Johnson!” Paul snarled. “Have you been napping? Charlegne and Rosemary are going to kill each other if we don’t get food in their mouths and shut them up! Serve them NOW!”
Li scattered the salmon tartares around the table, and appreciative forks removed appetizing morsels. Then it was back to the kitchen for Mr. Brent’s entrée.
“Here, Johnson! Piping hot. Whatever you did before, don’t do it again! And get back here in time for the soup course!”
“You call this medium? This is practically burnt! Did you roast it over an open flame? I guess I have to order it medium rare just to get it cooked properly! Take it back!”
Li’s feet swelled in his shoes.
“Overcooked? I’ve never seen a more beautiful medium in my life! Fine then. Jack! Re-refire the filet! Mid-rare this time! And Johnson, get your butt moving to Table 50 for the soup course. It’s been five minutes since the appetizers went out.”
The tureen glistened under the crystal-drunk chandeliers as Li wheeled it to the table. He ladled lobster bisque into eager bowls while Paul growled at him.
“You are making us look horrible to Charlegne! Where have you been? She asked specifically for you, and it takes you eons to show up!”
Back to the kitchen. “We’re carving the roast tableside, Johnson. You’ll be handling the jus. Here’s your steak. See if you can get the guy to actually eat it for a change!”
“Blech! There’s too much pepper in this dish! It’s like licking a pepper mill! Take it back!”
“Too much pepper? On steak au poivre? This man wouldn’t know the difference between béchamel and tomate!”
“I swear you are the slowest server in this dining room, Johnson! Clear these bowls and refill Charlegne’s Rosé!”
Oh please stop, Li thought. Please stop yelling at me…
“Here’s the damn steak, Johnson! Dump it on his table and get back here immediately for the lamb course!”
Li’s ankles started to rebel.
“I suppose this will have to do since none of you can pull your heads out of your asses. But don’t expect a tip from ME, kid! You’re lucky I haven’t notified your superior.”
“The jus is getting cold, Johnson! Are you incapable of showing up on time? Jack! Luis! Carry the lamb on that mirrored platter! Johnson, you follow with the sauce! Let’s get moving, boys!”
“For Christ’s sake! Could you stop holding everyone up, Johnson? Chef Will looks like he’s about to pass out! Get your act together!”
Li’s forehead drooled sweat. The ladle trembled as he poured lamb jus onto perfectly roasted meat.
“NOW you decide to come back!” Aaron yelled. “What’s the matter? Am I too mean? TOUGH CRAP! I want the chocolate soufflé for dessert, and it BETTER be standing when I get it!”
“He has some nerve demanding that after the hell he put me through! Go clear Table 50, Johnson! We’ll set the cheese course shortly.”
Li stumbled as he raced to the V.I.P. table, summoning all of his catlike reflexes to keep from falling on his face.
Paul seethed at the young waiter. “I can’t believe you left those filthy plates on the table! You are ruining everything! But what else am I supposed to expect from a kid who couldn’t finish college?”
Li winced. That one hurt. He just kept his head bent and cleared the table. Rosemary Hale watched him work, her eyebrows knitted together.
“Don’t just throw the china into the sink, Johnson! I don’t care how busy you are! Here’s the cheese platter. The soufflé for Mr. Food Critic will be done soon.”
“Hey! Food Boy! Where the hell is my dessert?”
PLEASE stop…I’m going to scream…
“
Give me those plates, Johnson! I’ll present the cheese! Tell Will to get the soufflés ready! I want them barely wiggling when they come out!”
“Here’s the chocolate soufflé! The customer’s lucky I didn’t spit in it!”
Sweat drenched Li’s hair. He held a tray with a delicate chocolate confection quivering in its ramekin.
Oh God…Please don’t fall…Please please PLEASE…
Li’s luck held. He set it on the Brents’ table and bolted before another word was said.
“Where were you, Johnson? The soufflés for Table 50 are ready to go. If even one falls, I’ll kill you. Get going!”
“FINALLY! I could have died and been reincarnated in the time it takes you to get here! Get the desserts on the table!”
With surgical care, the soufflés found their final resting places. Lips were licked around the table. Li quietly cleared the cheese plates.
“I just want you to know,” Rosemary said, gently taking a hold of Li’s elbow, “that the food is delicious, and you have been a wonderful server. Don’t let them run over you.”
He smiled at her, but it felt like she forced him to smile at knifepoint.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hale,” he replied.
Turning to take the dirty dishes away, Li collided with Paul. A huge uproar of shattering china, falling silverware, and startled shouts destroyed the dinnertime peace. Blobs of leftover food soiled the carpet and splashed upon Paul’s precious shoes.
A vein pulsed at the maître d’s temple. His face swelled purple. He wheezed heavily.
“I…you…how…I…!”
Li’s body drained of all color. He bustled about, trying to collect the debris. Paul’s fingers stretched and curled like hungry snakes. His dark eyes drilled into the waiter’s face.
“You are DEAD, Johnson!” he snarled under his breath. “Solo dish duty for the rest of this trip! You’ll be grateful if I let you in this room again! Now get the hell away from me!”
Li fled for his life.
Stupid Paul…Stupid Will…Stupid, stupid, stupid ship…
Li scrubbed a saucepan, ignoring the screams of his elbows and knuckles. The mound of used dishes swayed like a cobra before him. His only battlement for defense was the tiny pile of clean flatware to his right. He sniffed heavily and little red lines rimmed his eyes.
“I heard it got pretty ugly tonight at dinner,” a voice said from the double doors. Li wheeled around.
“What are you doing here, Travis?” Li asked, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
“I had Anita cover for me while I checked on my friend. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Li scoured the silver tureen.
“Uh huh…I’ll believe that.” He grabbed Li’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. Li dropped his gaze to the floor. “How long have you been crying?”
Li pulled away. “I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since my dad was in the hospital.”
“You came pretty damn close tonight. I can tell. Why don’t you quit?”
“I’m not a quitter.”
“But you’ve been thinking about it?”
Li nearly scratched the tureen with the scrub brush. “How did you find out about tonight?”
“How else? A big, loud buzzard told me. I swear Mr. Brent could drink Scotch from a hose. And when he gets plastered, he lets everyone know how stupid they are. You were his favorite target.”
“Gee, I feel so wonderful.”
“Sarcasm noted. Plus, Paulie the Perfect came in after service and downed two shots of tequila, complaining about how you ruined the night. What exactly happened?”
Li mumbled.
“Speak up, Li. I left my ear trumpet in the last century.”
“I dropped food on his shoes.”
Travis suppressed a snort of laughter. “When I said give ’em hell, Liam, I didn’t mean take the kamikaze route. You should be dead now. How Paulie let you live is a secret you’ll have to spill, boy.”
“It was an accident!”
“Hey…calm down…I’m on your side, remember? Honestly, I’m cheering that you pulled that off, accident or not.” Travis picked up a rag and scrubbed a plate. “Charlegne must have saved you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you really that blind? Paulie would lick the floor for Charlegne Jackson. He wouldn’t do anything to look bad in front of her. That includes murdering the one waiter he hates more than all the others.”
“Does he really hate me?”
“Have you suffered from head trauma recently? Paulie loathes the ground you walk on. I don’t want to make you panic, but he told me he’s out to get you fired.”
“Maybe I should let him…”
“I thought you weren’t a quitter?”
“I’m not. But if he fires me, I can get off this ship for good.”
“But then who will give me free food?”
“I never gave you free food.”
“Maybe you should start, so you’ll feel guilty about leaving.”
Li couldn’t suppress a smile. “You know you shouldn’t be helping me. Paul might show up and stab me with those unused champagne flutes.”
“If he does, I’ll have no shame doing my tequila trick.” He handed the rag to his friend. “Actually, I have to get going. Anita is fending off catcalls by herself, and she needs a big strong man to protect her.”
“When she finds one, try not to step on his toes, Travis.”
“Har dee har. Look who developed a sense of humor all of a sudden.” He gave Li a cheeky salute. “By the way, Her Royal Highness is sitting in the dining room alone. I thought you should be the one who tells her to clear out, seeing how she likes you.”
“Why not Paul?”
“Would you want him there in the state he’s in? Paulie’s trying to find a way to get drunk without security catching on. He’s in no condition to deal with people.”
Travis left the kitchen.
Li unloaded a sigh, wiped his hands on the dishcloth, and pushed his way into the dining room. Paul had dimmed the lights, and the huge windows on the opposite end of the room framed a black sea. Li strode across the room, catching sight of a woman seated at a table near the entrance.
“Miss Jackson?”
She did not turn. A small lamp on the table cast an amber glow over her figure. Liquid silver pooled around her body. Her stiletto heels, cast off after dinner, lay tangled under her chair. Charlegne Jackson took a small sip from the glass of Rosé in her hand.
“Hello, Liam,” she said. Her voice rose from the deepest part of her throat.
Li stopped short. “You…You know my name?”
“Jean Paul told me. Stupid little man, isn’t he?”
Li didn’t reply.
“I suppose you want to keep quiet so you don’t lose your job. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about that.” She knocked back the rest of the drink, pink champagne slipping like a thief down her throat. “Well, go on! What do you want to tell me?”
“Th-The dining room is closed, Miss Jackson.”
“I’m aware of that. That’s why I’m here.” She poured out more Dom and began freeing her hair from the chignon she wore. “You’re very ordinary-looking, you know?”
“A-Am I?”
“Such a stupid question. Life is full of stupid questions. Do you have any idea why I asked you to serve my table?”
“Was there a special reason?”
“Questions, questions, questions!” She plunked her glass down on the table. “Do I look like a woman who cares about answering everyone’s questions?”
“I-I-I’m sorry—”
“Oh, shut up, Liam! I can’t stand empty apologies. I’ll tell you why I chose you. During my whole career, I’ve been surrounded by faces. They won’t leave me alone. For once, I wanted to be served by someone who had a face I wouldn’t remember. Then I saw you. You were perfect. I will never remember what you look like. Your face is totally forgettable.”
Li shuffled his feet, but said nothing.
“It must be boring to look so average,” Charlegne continued. She breathed in the aroma of her champagne. Her eyelids fluttered. “I don’t think I’ve ever known what it’s like to be average.”
“But you wish you did?”
She turned to him abruptly. Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “Why do you say that?”
Li swallowed. “It just slipped out.”
Charlegne tried to divine the secrets of her future in the window. She fiddled with a tiny ring on her left hand.
“Have you ever thought about death, Liam?”
Li rocked on his feet. “Death, Miss Jackson?”
“Ah, so you have thought about it. I thought so. Who died?”
“Miss Jackson, I—”
“Who died, Liam?”
Li’s baby blues traced the swirling pattern of the carpet. “My dad. Leukemia.”
“Have you ever thought about dying yourself?”
Li’s nervous bobbing got worse. “NO!”
Charlegne drew her fingernail along the mouth of her glass. It made a soft squeal like a distant whistle. “Death is seen as horrible, isn’t it? Everyone tells me that it’s the worst thing that can happen. But is it? Is it really the worst thing? I wonder…Would I be afraid to die? Would it be…Would it be wrong to say I want to die?” She downed her champagne again. “That is, of course, if you are allowed to live.”
Li shivered. Charlegne shrieked with laughter.
“Just think!” she chimed, “You can wake up tomorrow and see your dear old Daddy again!”
CHAPTER 5
Room Service
Travis finished washing the used glassware in the bar sink at Temptations. He glanced at his friend bent over scratch paper scrawling numbers. Li, the only student in his cobbled-together poor man’s university, was doing his self-administered “homework” again.
“Dude…It’s after midnight,” Travis said, “and you have breakfast service. It’s okay to get some sleep.”
Li looked up from the careworn workbook sprawled on the bar top before him. His pencil drummed rapidly against the pages. “I didn’t have a chance to finish my equations before work started, Travis.”
“Finish them later. Your eyelids are sagging.”
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