“She's a great lady,” he said.
“I'm going to get fat if she keeps feeding me like this.”
He grunted and scooped another bite into his fork. “Doubtful.”
“She's appalled I don't cook.”
He smiled and ate another bite of stew. “You been to the doc again?”
“Next week.”
“You feeling alright?”
“Now that the all day sickness is gone, yes.”
“You taking your vitamins?”
She pointed to the bottle of prenatal vitamins on the windowsill. “A horse pill a day.”
“How about food?”
She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the stew in her bowl. “Three hundred extra calories a day. What's with the interrogation?”
He shrugged. “You're really thin and pale. Not sure you take good care of yourself.”
She blinked and felt herself blush. “I've gained exactly five pounds since I've been here. I weigh myself every day. I've always done that.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching her. “Is it exhausting trying to control everything in your life to such a degree?”
She surprised herself by laughing. “It is exhausting, but it's the way I am.”
“I suppose it's because your mother was so unpredictable.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to tell him that she made it a rule not to talk about the crazy old drunk but instead her eyes filled, and she twisted her fork over in her hand. “Something like that.”
“You never knew what she'd do, what state she'd be in, every day you walked in the door from school.”
She stared at him. “How did you know that?”
He looked at her, his eyes serious. “I don't know.”
She spoke quietly. “How do you know so much about me?”
“I can feel you.”
“But why?”
“I don't know.” He put his empty bowl in the sink and then sat back at the table, rubbing the scar on his cheek.
“Do you want anything else?” She avoided his eyes but felt his gaze just the same.
He leaned forward, moving her bowl an inch sideways. She looked up into his brown eyes. “I want to kiss you. Bad.”
Her stomach tightened and she felt her breath catch. “You should go.”
“Do you really want that?”
“Yes.” Her hands were shaking and she stared at his mouth, wanting to feel it on her own. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to think of Dan. She hated herself for being here, for wanting this man to stay and hold her in his arms.
She felt his fingers brush the side of her face. She opened her eyes, trembling, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “Please,” she said. “I can't.” She felt the tears start to come and pushed her fingers into her eyes.
His voice was still soft as he tugged at her hands. She let him take them between his own. “I've scared you, pushing too hard. I do that.”
“It's my fault.” The tears came then, sliding out of her eyes of their own free will. She pushed back her chair and put her bowl blindly into the sink. Facing away from him, she said, “I'm fine.” She hated the tears in her voice.
He was behind her now, touching her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Lee, I'm sorry.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, whispering. “Please, just go.”
“I'm so sorry,” he said again. And then he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.
Saturday morning, Lee sat with Mike at the back of the restaurant, twitching her foot under the table, waiting to begin the presentation to the staff. Billy and Cindi sat together. He sipped from a large glass of diet soda and Cindi blew on a steaming coffee cup. Deana, legs crossed, flipped the pages of a movie magazine. They all waited for Zac. The ice machine made a thump as a layer of cubes slid from their rack into the bin. At ten after the hour, Mike whispered to Lee, “He's not gonna show. Let's get started.”
Mike stood up and scanned the faces. “Good to see you all here. Thanks for coming in on a Saturday morning. We're making big changes to the restaurant. Lucky for us, Lee's decided to come on as partial owner and manager.”
No one moved.
Mike cleared his throat. “She's gonna take it from here, explain the new business and answer any questions.”
Billy's mouth hung open. Cindi stared at her with a half smile, her eyes flicking from side to side. Deana, magazine still open, squinted and played with a section of her hair. Lee grabbed the concept board from the table and tacked it onto the wall, her knees wobbling like when she was in high school and had to speak in front of the class. “The first thing I want to say is there will be a job for anyone who still wants one.”
Deana let out an extended sigh, crossing her legs and rifling through her purse.
Lee gave a condensed version of the presentation, without the financial information, and handed out a list of possible positions for which they could apply. Listed were: bartender, host/hostess, servers, head chef, assistant chef, dishwasher, and busser. “All these positions will require training, which we will provide you.”
Billy raised his hand. “Lee, what if you can't be trained?”
“Anyone could learn one of these jobs. That's not a problem.”
Cindi laughed, tossing her hair, her mouth a thin line. “Oh, we're not too stupid to learn how to be a busboy.” She tapped her high-heeled boot on the floor, crossing her arms over her tight shirt. “Last time I checked I already knew how to wait tables. Better than some, I might add.”
“No, no, I know you all know how to work in the environment as it is, but the new restaurant will require formal training in the areas of service. We'll be training under the same regiment as a five star hotel or restaurant, with the same standards.”
Cindi scooted her chair a little closer to Billy. She whispered something under her breath. Billy started to laugh, saw Lee looking at him, and clamped his mouth shut, shifting his gaze to his feet.
“Like I said, all the jobs are open.” Lee glanced at the paper. “Except the Head Chef.”
Deana rolled her eyes, ambled near the front door and leaned on the wall. “Five star service. What the hell does that mean?”
Billy wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Who would teach us all this stuff?”
“I haven't worked all the details out yet, but we'll bring in a trainer,” said Lee. “An expert in fine dining,” she added, voice faltering.
There was a bang from the kitchen like someone dropped a large pan. A few seconds later Zac came through the swinging doors. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, his eyes on Lee.
Deana leaned against the front door, smiling at Zac like they were conspirators of some private joke. She turned to Lee, arranging her overgrown bangs over one eye with a coy shift of her head. “How come you're in charge now? You never even worked in a restaurant before.”
Mike spoke in a cold tone Lee had never heard him use before. “Lee's come up with a hell of a concept and we've agreed to a partnership. Take it or leave it.”
Deana popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “This place is fine the way it is.”
“This place hasn't made a blessed dime since it opened,” said Mike. “If you all want a job to come to five days a week, we gotta turn this place on its head.”
Cindi stood, clutching her purse against her chest. “So Lee's an owner now?”
“Yes,” said Mike.
Billy wiped the condensation from his soda glass with his thumb. “Lee, are you our boss now?” He glanced in a guilty way at Zac and then sipped his soda, looking at the floor.
Lee looked at Mike for help, who glanced at Zac, and then nodded to Billy. “Lee's the manager. Zac will be taking on a different job.”
The corners of Billy's mouth turned up in a brief smile.
“How do we know you aren't just gonna push us out?” said Cindi. She put her hand on Billy's arm.
Lee started to answer, but was interrupted by Bi
lly. “Maybe this'll be good for us. You know, like more money and stuff.”
Deana guffawed, tossing her hair. “Billy, don't you get it? The only people gonna get rich around here is Lee.” She paused and pointed at Mike. “And him.”
Cindi nodded and looked out the window. “This won't be a place for people like us.”
Lee moved toward their table and tripped in her high heels. She steadied herself on a chair. “Look, I need this to work as much as you guys do.”
Cindi put her purse over her shoulder. “Different table cloths don't mean it's any different than yesterday. We're still broke.”
“Yeah, but we'll be trained.” Deana pantomimed a tray above her head and curtsied. “No one's gonna come to a fancy ass place just to get a drink.” She threw her purse over her shoulder. “I don't need one of your shit jobs anyway. I'm outta here.” She flounced out, the door swinging back and forth several times before shutting with a soft swoosh.
No one spoke. Zac left through the kitchen door. Mike glanced at Lee and followed Zac. Billy and Cindi looked at their feet.
Lee turned from them and took the concept board off the wall, surprised at feeling hurt. She'd imagined everyone would meet the new idea with excitement and enthusiasm. She flashed to a time in fourth grade when a group of girls gathered around her in the playground and told her they all took a vote and agreed they hated her and would no longer count her as a friend. This was the same feeling of shock, betrayal and being misplaced in the world. Betrayal, she thought, is that what Cindi thinks this is?
“We're going to be shut down for a couple of months,” said Lee. “There will be plenty of work getting this place ready if anyone's interested.”
She turned to see Billy amble to his feet. “Yeah, well, thanks Lee.”
Billy and Cindi headed for the door, and Lee followed them. “Wait a minute.”
They turned towards her. “You two think I don't know what's going on here?” said Lee. “That you're proud and intimidated at the same time. Look, I grew up in this town. My mother was a drunk and we were on food stamps and government cheese and every other humiliating program you can think of.” She choked, tears springing to her eyes. “The only reason I got out is because I got a couple of breaks along the way. Y'know, a chance, someone who saw something in me and that's what this is. A chance.” Her mouth filled with the saliva of unshed tears. “I'm no different than you.”
They stared at her.
Billy wiped his forehead again. “You think maybe I could work for the chef? Learn how to be a real cook?”
“I do.” She swiped at the corners of her eyes. “I'll make sure of it.”
Cindi cocked her head. “You'll be different now, that's what happens when people become the boss.”
“Believe it or not, I was a boss before I came here and my employees liked me a lot.”
“I thought you were leaving here soon anyway,” said Cindi.
“Do you know why I came here?”
“Not exactly,” said Cindi.
“My husband killed himself and left me penniless and pregnant.”
Cindi's face softened and she stared at Lee's stomach. “You're having a baby?”
“In September. So, I've got to get this place up and running before the baby comes.”
Cindi crossed her arms and shook her head. “You hear this Billy? You ever do that to a girl I'll kick your ass.”
Billy pulled on his shirt where his soft middle protruded. “I don't even have a girl.”
Cindi put her arm around Billy. “I know but you will. Lee, I raised a baby on my own after my no-good husband ran off. He was a worthless son of a bitch too.” She gestured to the board. “This bar, it's gonna be real drinks?”
Lee nodded.
“I always thought about being a bartender. People always telling me personal stuff as it is.”
“We have enough time for you to go to bartender school before we open. We'll pay for you to go if you're serious.”
Cindi nodded and placed her hands on her hips. “Maybe. Yeah, maybe.”
After they left, Lee sat at the table and shuffled through the business plan. She knew getting this restaurant ready to open and the staff trained would be difficult even for someone with actual experience, like Linus. Experience she obviously didn't possess, given the interaction with the staff just now. She stared out the window, wondering what Linus would do. She ached for her old life, especially for Linus. She picked up her cell phone just as the kitchen doors swung open. Zac walked in, hands in the pockets of his long shorts. “My dad said to come see you.” He paused and then in mock reverence, “Boss.”
“Have a seat.”
He sat down across from her, tipping back so that the two front legs of his chair were several inches off the ground. “Look, all that stuff I said before about this place, the truth is I hated running this joint. I was just doing it because the old man wanted me to. Go at it.”
“Your dad thinks you should work here.”
Zac put the chair down on the floor. “I know.”
She sighed and looked at him for a moment. His hair was graying at the temples and there were fine wrinkles around his eyes. She flashed to what he looked like in high school and thought how disheartening it was to see someone from your youth beaten down by life. She wondered if he saw the same in her. The thought softened her. “Zac, do you know what I used to dream about when I was in high school?”
He squinted and shook his head, like he was ready for battle. “Haven't a clue.”
“I wanted to feel safe and live in a beautiful home with someone who loved me and have work that meant something to the world.”
“Yeah?” His voice was softer than usual and she knew he was listening even though he still assumed the posture of someone who didn't care, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, the macho guy thing she remembered from high school. “You get any of those things?”
“I thought I did. But, I'm here, trying to make a new life for myself.”
He flicked the sleeve of his jacket with his thumb, looking at the table. “Yeah, that's all you can do, I guess.”
“What did you dream about in high school?”
He shrugged and grinned. “Getting laid, probably.”
She laughed like it was funny. “What do you want now? Please tell me it's more than that?”
He gazed over her head. She saw a glimmer of regret about a life gone irretrievably in the wrong direction cross his face. “What I want you can't possibly give me.”
“Try me.”
He blinked and stared at her. “You really want to know?”
“I do.”
“I want to leave this town and never come back. I want to learn to surf in the ocean. I want to feel good instead of this fucked-up feeling all the time. I want to give a shit if I get out of bed every morning.”
She flattened her hands on the tabletop, leaning forward a few inches. “Why don't you go?”
He tossed his head. She saw the fear in his eyes, the uncertainty that he would ever go. “I've got plans to get out of here but I need a few more months.”
“I understand.” She opened her folder and picked up her pen. “There's a position in high-end restaurants called the Food and Beverage Manager.” She almost smiled, thinking the beverage part was perfect for him. “You want me to tell your dad that's your job? I'll just call if I need you?”
He smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “But you won't call, right?”
“Exactly. It can be our secret.” Her left eye twitched. She ran the tip of her pen along the fake wood pattern of the plastic table. “There's only one thing you have to do for me.”
He raised his eyebrows and winked. “I thought Tommy was in line for that job?”
She managed not to cringe and shook her head. “No, not that. I've seen you with your little baggies of goodies out the back door. It makes me nervous. I'm afraid it'll keep customers away.”
His demeanor changed to dark in an
instant; his face purple, eyes hard. He laughed without mirth, yanking at the lobe of his ear. “Quite an imagination you've got.”
She didn't answer. Her silence seemed to enrage him. He jerked from his seat, the chair flying behind him, towering over her, smelling of the inside of a seedy bar, inches from her face. “Don't get in my business.” He put one hand on the back of her chair. “Understand?”
“Isn't there someplace better than the parking lot of this restaurant?”
He shook his head and started tapping the back of the chair with his fingers. “No, no, no. Why are you talking about this? It's none of your concern. I have it all figured out and you can't mess this up for me. I have a plan, do you understand?”
“I don't understand why you're doing this at all. Your dad would do anything to help you-”
“Shut-up.” He yanked her off the chair and slammed her against the wall. “Just shut-up about my dad. You don't understand how he is, how nothing I do is good enough, how every single day of my life I've been a disappointment to him and finally I don't care. So, just shut-up about my saintly father because you have no idea how it feels to be a fuck-up.” He had one hand on her neck and the other squeezed the top of her arm, his teeth clenched. “I'm gonna finally get out, live at the beach. Get the life I was meant to have. You can't get in my way.” He pushed on her neck and his eyes glistened with tears. “Or you'll be sorry. You'll be very, very sorry.”
She couldn't speak with his hand on her neck but nodded like she understood.
He let go of her and rested his forehead on the side of the wall, next to her face. He spoke like he was exhausted and she held her breath in order to hear him. “I'm sorry if I hurt you,” he said. “I don't want to hurt you. I'll move to another location if you want, if you'll keep your mouth shut to my dad. He doesn't know and I don't want him to. We can't ever talk about this again. Ever again.”
She made her voice soft, soothing, like she was talking to a child. “It's alright, I won't tell Mike, if you stay out of the parking lot.”
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