Grand Opening

by Pruden,T. F.

  “That’s fantastic!” the meat salesman replied with real enthusiasm, “I’m looking forward to it already and here’s hoping you guys have a great night to get you off to the races. You know word of mouth is everything in this racket!”

  “Thanks very much Paul and we’ve been doing our best to spread the word so here’s hopin’ it works out,” Wayne replied, smiling at the excitement shown by the salesman, “and don’t forget to tell a friend!”

  “You know I will and with my paycheck depending on your success I’m only interested in you guys makin’ a big splash!”

  “Thanks again and we sure appreciate it Paul.”

  “Are you set for credit cards in the new place yet or are you gonna be on cash for your first few weeks?” the meat salesman asked, “and either is good for me.”

  “We’re set for Visa, MasterCard, and American Express,” Wayne spoke with pride in his voice, “the sliders and forms arrived yesterday afternoon. Big deposits required to secure ‘em but havin’ ‘em in place is gonna make it easier for everybody.”

  “That’s perfect!” the salesman replied.

  It surprised Paul to find he hoped the new operators would overcome the atrocious location of the old restaurant. The terrible place led to the failure of all previous businesses opened there. As far as he could tell it prepared to do so again.

  “Having credit card service available right from the opening day will make it a lot easier to succeed,” he spoke without trace of concern, “and that’s for sure!”

  “We sure hope so,” Wayne replied, “it’s a lot of cash out front to be able to offer the service plus three per cent off of the top but everything seems to be done with plastic nowadays so what can you do?”

  “True enough,” Paul said, “cash used to be king but soon you won’t even see it I bet.”

  “No kidding!” Wayne answered with surprise filling his voice, “I’ve taken to using my credit card to shop for groceries and who woulda’ thought of doing something like that a few years ago?”

  “It’s crazy alright,” the salesman agreed, “but it’s gonna help your business havin’ them in place, especially havin’ all three of the majors right off the start, and you’ll see that on your first night.”

  “Well that’s what we’re hoping for anyway,” Wayne said.

  He smiled as he recalled how Rene bitched at the cost of securing the service.

  “And my partner will be relieved once he sees how prevalent they’re gonna be,” he said with a grin, “I’m hopin’ so anyway ‘cuz he sure hated puttin’ the cash out to open the accounts!”

  “They’re pricey all right,” Paul answered his new customer.

  Wayne Stevens had grown in his estimation after revealing credit card accounts in place for the new restaurant.

  “But worth every cent!” he said, “your customers will know you’re a serious business right away when they can use plastic at your place and that’s gonna be worth both repeat and new business to you, you’ll see.”

  “I’m glad you think that way Paul,” Wayne said as he considered the salesman’s remarks, “because that’s what I believe too. Legitimate businesses offer that level of service to their customers in the modern world, and we want to be considered legitimate right from the day our doors open, not a coupla’ guys desperate to raise cash to keep operating.”

  “You’ll find most people see it that way even if they don’t say they do,” the meat salesman replied as he nodded in agreement, “and I don’t mind telling you my bosses will be a lot more comfortable with your business when I let them know you’ve already got accounts in place with the majors.”

  “Well that’s good news too,” Wayne said, grinning at the fellow seated across the table from him, “after all, if we can’t buy steak we won’t be able to open our doors.”

  “We’re happy to sell it to you and that’s for sure,” the meat salesman replied, “because without the success of your business ours will fail, so we’re on your side and you can always count on that.”

  “We appreciate that a great deal Paul,” Wayne said.

  He nodded to the salesman and wondered how often the fellow had repeated the same words to someone in the position he now occupied.

  “We appreciate that more than I can say,” Wayne repeated the words.

  If he repeated them a thousand times they would not ring true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Rene ground the cigarette butt into the plastic ashtray sitting on the white patio table.

  He rose from the corner of the balcony to enter the dining room via the sliding glass door behind him. A sigh of resignation escaped as he returned to face the grilling conducted by the woman awaiting his return.

  The snow falling to the streets below had slowed but showed no sign of stopping. He was loath to leave the comfort of Jane’s apartment despite the extended bout of questioning he now dealt with as result of staying put.

  Rene arrived after meeting Wayne and J.D. the previous night. He revealed the news of the tall chef Maurice’s departure to her then.

  The woman questioned him off and on since he shared the information. Jane’s first concern was the ability of the new business to maintain itself despite the loss of his partner and head chef.

  The well-being of now departed and just sober Maurice was her second concern.

  Rene mollified her doubts about the restaurant with reassurance that J.D. was a certified and experienced young chef. Both he and Wayne felt the young man at least as capable as the departed Maurice.

  Rene tried, with limited success, to reassure Jane the tall chef could deal with the choice he made. He damned the tall man in silence as he again readied to defend himself from a tiresome browbeating. His ego bruised with the fellows’ sudden departure. That Jane acted from genuine concern and remained unmoved by his hurt feelings stung him.

  Her ignorance of the pain raised his internal temperature further.

  “So you have no idea where he went?” the attractive woman wearing only shorts and a tee shirt asked, “and did he leave contact information and a forwarding address or just disappear?”

  “Tabernac!” Rene grunted in response, “‘E lef’ wit’out leav’ang any info, no numbers, no names, nutt’ang to track ‘im down wit’.”

  “And you don’t know where he may have gone?” she asked, her curiosity piqued an amount equal to her concern, “or any thoughts regarding who he might have gone with?”

  “Dats’ right,” Rene replied, “‘e lef’ wit’out a word to anyone in ‘da ‘ouse!”

  “But he left your keys?”

  “For sure for sure,” Rene said, “‘e lef’ bot’ set of keys, for ‘da ‘ouse an’ ‘da restaurant, an’ ‘e clean’ all ‘is t’ings out from ‘is room.”

  “So he must have been planning to go for a while,” Jane spoke with distraction in a voice aimed at herself though Rene waited, “otherwise he wouldn’t have been so prepared for it. He must have decided to leave the week before or even sooner than that.”

  Rene said nothing in reply. He watched the lawyer consider the actions of the departed chef. She sipped from the mug of coffee in her hands as she sat on the sofa. He had shown her the note left by the tall man. With the explanation in hand she was in receipt of all information the fellow made available about his decision to leave.

  “The contract allows you to hold onto your stock in the business as a result of his early departure anyway,” she said, with distraction still apparent in her voice, “and we’ll draw up a new one for Wayne to sign that reflects the updated stock split and the profit sharing first thing on Monday morning.”

  Rene again made no reply. Despite growing curiosity he waited in case she wasn’t through questioning him. He hoped to survive the extended interrogation.

  “We should reach out to his group and see if he said anything to anyone there about his plans to leave,” Jane said.

  She looked to him with hope from above the rim of the coffee mug held in
her hands.

  “He may have told someone where he was going or at least gave some indication if he was ok or if he was dealing effectively with the choice he made.”

  “Tabernac!” Rene groaned, “‘E’s ‘da one ‘dat lef’ us, we din’ ask ‘im to go! ‘Oo cares ‘ow ‘e is ‘andle ‘is own choice? We’re ‘da ones ‘dat deserve to be piss’ off, ‘e lef’ us in ‘da lurch!”

  “Oh Rene!” Jane spoke with frustration rising in her voice, “He’s only sober a year and that’s why he made such a ridiculous decision. If at least he would have voiced some anger over the change to the concept he’s blaming for his leaving when it first came up then maybe I’d be less concerned, but as it is, it certainly looks like he’s using the change as an excuse to go out and get drunk. That’s what ought to concern you at least as much as it does me!”

  “A man makes ‘is own choice,” Rene said with disgust, “Tabernac! ‘E leaves us a week before ‘da gran’ opening an’ you expect me to be concern’ wit’ ‘im an’ ‘is drank’ang? What about my inves’men’?”

  “You’ve said yourself Wayne dealt with the problem at the restaurant,” Jane replied, “and so your investment is safe and remains in good hands. But your friend and a fellow alcoholic is liable to be out there drunk somewhere and that’s something that ought to be concerning you even more than it concerns me and you know it.”

  Rene sighed in resignation. Jane was right. While refusing to admit it he recognized his refusal as childish. The departure of the tall chef not only caught him off guard, but left him angry and hurt. His ego continued to smart from the unexpected turn of events. As yet he remained unwilling to consider the dangerous implications revealed by the fellows’ choice to leave.

  They were apparent enough without discussion.

  His anger as usual prevented him from seeing a point of view other than his own.

  “So we can ask aroun’,” he said, resignation filling his voice, “mebbe at ‘is ‘ome group an’ see if ‘e ‘as said anyt’ang to anyone ‘bout ‘is leav’ang, eh?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Jane answered.

  She smiled with tenderness at the ruggedly handsome and suitably chastised fellow seated across from her in the armchair.

  “And I’ll make a point of dropping by the Alano Club to see if anyone has heard anything from him.”

  “Tabernac! ‘Dat dang chef ‘e was always a cranky bastar’!” Rene spoke with a grin now creasing his face, “But ‘e seem’ to ‘ave an effec’ on ‘da ladies an’ ‘dats for sure for sure, eh?”

  “Oh stop it with your high school jealousy!” Jane said, laughing as she rose from the sofa to cross the small living room and sit on his lap in the big chair, “I’m only concerned about an alky, not Maurice and his big blue eyes!”

  “Well ‘dats more ‘dan ‘dat miserable chef ‘e deserve, I tell you woman, eh?” Rene replied with a grunt as she cuddled against him.

  Jane McIntyre laughed as she rested her head against the shoulder of the big man in the upholstered chair. She was again convinced, if only just, that compassion remained the greater force of his character.

  The loss of his partner had been a shock to him she knew. There was no denying it threatened his investment in the restaurant which by now she realized held a special attraction for him. His anger was thus no surprise. His unwillingness to appreciate the strain of the situation on the tall chef’s relatively new sobriety was a shock. Rene’s inability to identify it as a concern also disappointed her. By agreeing to look into Maurice’s sudden departure he reassured her, though not completely.

  While there could be no confirming the tall chef’s state of mind, review of the circumstances of his decision would comfort her.

  “When will you go to his home group?” she asked without raising her head from his shoulder.

  “Later ‘dis af’ernoon,” he replied, “‘dere is a meet’ang ‘dere ‘dis af’ernoon at two I t’ink.”

  “Thank you Rene.” she said, “You know I’ll feel better once you’ve looked into it.”

  “Yes my darl’ang,” Rene’s voice was soft, “an’ so will I.”

  “You’re a good man,” Jane said, “and I love you because of it.”

  “An’ you’re ‘da good woman ‘oo keeps me hones’,” Rene replied, grinning to himself because it was a fact, “an’ I love you too.”

  The lovers held tight to one another in the big chair. They said nothing more of the tall chef, each lost in the thoughts separating them. Individual concerns filled them despite the overwhelming desire for nearness and comfort drawing them together.

  Rene stared out the balcony doors at the slow falling snow, regretting the need to soon depart. Jane closed her eyes to look away from the abyss of lost compassion threatening the man to whom she was now, inextricably, bound.

  In the streets below the Saturday traffic snarled on the slick pavement. The curse of braying horns rose to remind them life moved on despite their concerns.

  The lovers remained still in spite of the far away noise demanding their attention, holding silent to warmth sustaining them. In the quiet of the small apartment they resisted, unwilling to resign themselves to the defeat of their pleasure the world outside seemed so committed to achieve.

  Thick snow fell to land noiseless on the unseen streets. The tick of the clock on the dining room wall soon filled the room.

  It reminded them life waited outside, hungry, to devour them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Maurice stood weaving in the snow blowing next to the Greyhound bus.

  He was in the parking lot of the Regina, Saskatchewan, depot and did his best to make sense of what the uniformed driver told him. Though listening with serious intent since getting off the bus Maurice was drunk and unable to understand the man.

  The bitter cold of the prairie wind ensnared them both after stepping from the comfort of the coach. It made their communication difficult. The noise of the idling busses surrounding them did not help.

  Maurice’s advanced state of intoxication added to the difficulty.

  Ronnie Sargeant and the tall chef consumed two mickeys of vodka and two of peach schnapps during the long night of travel. Though both men were now plainly under the influence of the alcohol Maurice was most obviously affected. The two men stood side by side next to the open doors of the Greyhounds’ luggage compartment in the light of the breaking dawn.

  The driver confronted them when he stopped at the Regina depot for breakfast.

  With as much patience as remained after a night of fighting the blowing snow on the prairie highways, the driver explained that alcohol was prohibited on the coach.

  As they were drinking both men could not continue the trip when the coach departed after breakfast. With the tall chef ticketed for Calgary he would have to await the next mornings’ scheduled Greyhound.

  The younger man having reached his destination was unaffected by the breach of protocol soon to leave them sans transportation.

  “You’re not allowed to bring alcohol on board,” the driver said for a third time, “and you’ll be checked in the morning before you’re allowed to get on the coach.”

  “Tabernac!” the tall chef cursed above the idling diesel engines surrounding them, “An’ what am hai’ s’pose’ to do now, eh? Sleep in ‘da damn snow?”

  “I’m sorry sir,” the driver answered the fellow standing drunk in front of him, “but those are the rules and I’m bound by them too. Now let me get your bags and you can store them or keep them with you until the next coach arrives at this time tomorrow.”

  “Tabernac!” Maurice cursed loudly again, “What in hell am I to do now, eh?”

  “It’s cool partner,” Ronnie Sargeant said to the tall chef as he wrapped an arm around his thin shoulder, “let’s get yer’ bags stored an’ then go to breakfast wit’ my bro. You can shack up wit’ us fer’ tonight an’ catch da’ nex’ one inna’ mornin’ like ‘da man says. Don’ make no sense to get yerself’ kicked o
ffa’ ‘da nex’ one too, eh?”

  The driver pulled the duffel bags tagged with the tall man’s ticket number out of the luggage hold. He dropped them on the concrete. He said nothing more and placed the single hockey bag belonging to Ronnie Sargeant next to them.

  In the rear-view mirror the driver had watched as the two men passed the little bottles back and forth and drank through the long journey. Their conversation grew louder with the passing hours. The disturbance grew with their consumption and soon enough annoyed the other riders.

  The driver took as patient a line with the men as he could.

  Despite the looks he received from more than one of his other passengers he said nothing to the men about their behavior. The fellow who appeared most dangerous of the two was ticketed for Regina. The driver decided he should wait. When they departed the coach in Saskatchewan, he could let them know they would travel no further on his coach today.

  If they caused trouble there, he would be assured of help.

  He sighed with relief and readied to return the tall mans’ ticket.

  “There’s your luggage,” the driver said.

  He spoke loud enough for them to hear him above the idling diesel engines.

  “You can check it in the depot.” he said, “Your ticket has been marked and the driver will ask you to declare you’re not carrying alcohol when you board in the morning.”

  The uniformed driver handed the new marked ticket to Maurice. He took it from the tall chef when he departed the coach. The driver marked it with a capitol ‘A’ in the bold red ink of a sharpie. He turned away from the two men and closed the luggage compartment doors on the coach.

  It relieved him to have them off of his bus.

  Now he would concern himself with getting a hot breakfast.

  “Come on Maurice,” the long-haired fellow said to the tall man, “let’s stash these bags an’ fin’ my bro, then we can get breakfas’, eh?”