Pallbearing

  He watched Jeff break a bulb, then peel a clove. He said, “No no no. Like this,” and peeled a different clove. Jeff tried to mimic his movements. Fernando said, “No no no,” and peeled another. Jeff tried again. Fernando said, “Good.” He did a few more with Fernando watching closely. When there was enough, Fernando had him mince it. He said, “Good. But you must do quick.” Jeff waited for it; Fernando added, “Quick quick.”

  Concepcion said, “Get to work, Fernando. Leave the boy alone.”

  “Shut up. I’m helping him. He won’t be a dishwasher his whole life. I help him get skills. Then, maybe, a better job. Money.” He elbowed Jeff in the ribs and said, “And then, maybe, better women,” and winked. Concepcion started yelling in Spanish.

  Fernando waved his hands at her and said more in Spanish and left.

  Mary stepped over to where Jeff was peeling the garlic and pushed it all into the garbage. She said, “It’s all shit, rotten. He’s always trying to pull this crap.”

  She went to the fridge and pulled out her prepped garlic. She sat it on the side of the prep area and told Jeff to get to the dish pit while she went out for a smoke.

  A few minutes later Fernando came back. He said, “You did it all?” He held up the container. “Quick quick quick!”

  * * *

  Fernando came into the kitchen juggling four hot scampi pans. He said, “No no no. Scuffs. See? It must be clean. This represents us. It is my signature dish.”

  Before Jeff could grab a rag, Concepcion said, “Your signature dish? My recipe. You are nothing without me, but you go out and you see that . . .” She switched to Spanish. Jeff had learned that puta meant slut. The rest he could piece together.

  Fernando went upstairs to the office. It was an hour before Jeff saw him again. He came into the kitchen and said to Mary, “The diners like your Gambas al Ajillo; they say it’s the best they’ve ever had.”

  Concepcion slammed a dish and threw it across the kitchen. It bounced off the wall and into Jeff’s dishwater. Steam shot up. “You crazy woman!” Fernando shouted. Then to Jeff he said, “Ignore the women. They’re all crazy.”

  Fernando was loaded.

  Fernando left. A minute later, there was a pop and applause. He was comping champagne to the customers.

  Eric went into the bathroom for the length of time it took to do a line of coke and then came into the kitchen. He said, “That shit wants to give away booze after leaving me on my own for the last hour, he can do the fucking cleanup himself.” He grabbed his jacket out of the closet and added, “I don’t need this. I’ve got a gallery interested in representing me. In Paris.” He added: “France.”

  Jeff started a load of dishes and looked out of the pass-through. The last two tables were beside each other. Fernando stood between them, slopping champagne on the ground while he mimicked swimming. The diners’ dishes were un-bussed. The dishwasher stopped. Jeff unloaded it.

  Concepcion had left. Mary said, “We might as well clean what we can.” And they started doing all the pots and pans and shutting down for the night. When they were almost done Fernando came in and said, “Scampi, four orders.” And left.

  Mary said, “That fuck.”

  They couldn’t find Concepcion so Mary had to fire up the oven and pull out all the pans. She warmed some old rice and garnishes. She hit the bell. And again. And once more. Then Fernando was in the kitchen saying, “Where is Eric?”

  “He left,” Mary said.

  “Left? Left? Left? We still have tables.” His face turned redder. He asked, “Where is Concepcion?”

  “She left.”

  “Who made this?”

  “Me.”

  “No no no.” Fernando looked at the dishes. “It’s all wrong.” He started arranging the shrimp with his hands, licking the sauce off his fingers. He opened the fridge and pulled out some sprigs of parsley while telling Mary it was “wrong wrong wrong.” Fernando left with the copper pans unshined. He was even drunker than Jeff thought.

  Mary took off her apron and said, “I can’t handle this. Do you mind if I take off?”

  “Go for it.”

  Jeff cleaned all the dishes he could and then tried to go out to get the dishes that were left on the tables. Fernando said, “No no no,” and shooed him back into the kitchen. Jeff gestured at the plates. Fernando said, “Back of house staff stays in the back.”

  “I know. I just need to clean up.”

  “We have tables. Wait. You never rush customers. They are here for a good time.”

  They left an hour and a half later.

  Jeff collected the dishes and scraped off the remaining food. Fernando leaned in the doorway and said, “You are good. Good worker.” Jeff loaded the rack and pushed it into the machine. Fernando talked while it ran; Jeff didn’t hear anything until, “ . . . Eric. He’s entitled. Thinks the world revolves around him. And Mary. She doesn’t care. But you” — Fernando slapped Jeff on the back — “you didn’t abandon me. You’re hard worker. Like me.”

  Jeff got the mop bucket and filled it with water. Fernando leaned on the doorway and stared at nothing. Jeff dipped the mop in the bucket and started cleaning. Fernando said, “I started like you. I was nothing. Just a poor nothing. No prospects. No skills. Nothing. And I had to clean a kitchen. It was big. Not like this. Industrial, you know, for making lots of food.”

  Jeff lifted the mop bucket over the sink and dumped it. Fernando said, “Three years I worked there before they let me wait tables. They make you learn. They make sure you are serious. Are you serious?” Jeff shrugged while he mopped. Fernando said, “Jeffrey. Are you serious? About this.” Fernando gestured around the empty kitchen. Jeff nodded as firmly as he could manage. Fernando said, “I can tell. You are good. You stayed. Loyal. Work hard. You will be like me one day.” Fernando thumped his chest, then slapped Jeff on the back.

  Fernando left the kitchen. Jeff took out the garbage and came back in. He couldn’t find Fernando anywhere. He double-checked the office and all the rooms. He left the back way, so the door could lock behind him.

  * * *

  Jeff got to work and saw a notice on the door. It said Fernando’s Fine Dining Restaurant was in arrears to Global Real Estate LLC and had been evicted by order of the city bailiff. The door was padlocked.

  He was wondering what to do when Mary showed up. She said, “Those fucks. Those absolute fucks.” She lit a cigarette. There were tears in her eyes. “They said this wasn’t going to happen. Fuck.” She kicked the door. “They’re a month behind on my pay.”

  Jeff said, “A month?”

  “You too?”

  “Fernando paid me cash.” Jeff added, “Sometimes.”

  “Those fucks.”

  Mary pulled out her phone and tried calling Fernando. It went straight to voicemail. She had Jeff try on his cellphone. “They know my number,” she said. It didn’t even ring; they must’ve turned off their phone. Mary said, “What am I supposed to do? I have rent.”

  She pulled on the padlock, flipped it up in her hand and let it drop. Jeff walked around the side of the building. Mary followed. The back door was padlocked too. Jeff climbed up the fire escape to the second floor. The fire door was locked. He tried a window but it was locked. Then he stepped over the railing onto the roof and crouch-walked over to the next window. It slid open. He went in and the motion alarm went off. He walked around and unlocked the window beside the fire door. Mary climbed inside.

  They went down to the front door and Mary punched in the alarm code. The phone rang. Mary picked it up and said, “Yeah, sorry. I was tangled up with some food and couldn’t get to the keypad in time . . . Yeah, the password is ‘Scampi’ . . . Thank you.”

  Mary went into the linen closet and reached up above the top shelf. She pulled down the coffee mug with the float in it and dumped it onto one of the tables. There were two twenties, a lot of sma
ller bills, and change. It was just under a hundred bucks. She started to divide it and Jeff said, “You keep it — I got paid more recently.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I got enough for rent.”

  “Thanks.” She put the cash in her bag and then they heard a banging at the door, followed by thumping. They stepped back so they wouldn’t be visible from the window. Eric looked through. Mary and Jeff both froze. Eric had his cellphone up to his ear. They could hear him saying, “Fernando, you piece of shit, pick up.”

  They didn’t discuss letting him in or giving him any money.

  They heard Eric try the back door, then the upstairs fire exit. They waited until they saw him cross the street before they started moving around again.

  Mary got a box from the supply closet and took it into the kitchen. She loaded it with supplies. Pans, pots, cooking implements. She said, “This shit is expensive.” Then she looked around some more. She said, “I wish I had a car. There’s enough here to start my own place.” But she had to settle for what she could carry. She offered Jeff a couple of pans — “You can probably get thirty bucks for these online” — but Jeff said no. She put the box at the top of the stairs, then went into the walk-in fridge.

  Mary filled up her bag with blocks of cheese and shrink-wrapped meat. Jeff took a few blocks of cheese for himself and some frozen soup. They went into the basement together and raided the wine cellar. Mary fit three bottles into her bag and carried two more in her hands. Jeff couldn’t juggle the cheese and wine and soup. He went upstairs and grabbed a table cloth that he folded into a sack. It was awkward, but he got a dozen bottles in it, on top of the cheese and soup.

  They went back upstairs and left through the fire exit. They walked together along the back alleys until they were sure they were far enough not to be seen with their loot by anyone who might care.

  When they reached the main street, Mary said, “I’m going to hop on a bus and get this shit home.” She put her box down and gave Jeff a hug. They exchanged numbers and promised to call each other if either heard of any job openings. Jeff slung the table-cloth sack over his shoulder and regretted not grabbing a corkscrew.

  Drive

  Colleen and her sister Janet sat in a booth near the back of the bar. Colleen’s fiancé Kevin was at the bar buying a round for his crew. They cheered and tipped back their glasses and then spread out. Greg came straight to the booth and pulled Janet up to her feet. She half-heartedly told him no and then they were out on the dance floor. Colleen sipped her Coke.

  She hadn’t wanted to go out. Kevin’s crew had just wrapped up a three-month job and she knew it was going to be like this — all the trades drinking away Kevin’s money. Her sister had made it a big deal though. “Come on,” Janet had said. “You have to go.”

  “Why would I go just to watch everyone get wasted?”

  “I need you to be there. Greg will be there.”

  Colleen didn’t like Greg and hadn’t from the moment he’d shown up at their door six months ago claiming to know Kevin’s older brother. Kevin was a soft touch with anyone from back home, so he’d hired Greg and let him stay at their house until he found his own place. Janet was living with them. She was only eighteen but their parents had kicked her out of the family home when they found out she was dating a high-school teacher — not one of her own teachers, at least, but it was after she’d already been engaged to a biker, and had a pregnancy scare with a different man. Their parents had had it with the scandals and sent her packing. Colleen and Kevin needed help with the mortgage, so it didn’t seem like too much trouble to take her in. Greg started moving in on her right away.

  Colleen hadn’t liked that; she tried to talk to Janet about it but the conversation ended quickly — “Who are you, Mom?” she’d said — so instead Colleen insisted that Kevin tell Greg to find his own place. He moved in with some of the other guys on the crew but still hung around their place all the time, picking Janet up from work, bringing over food; Colleen just couldn’t get rid of him.

  Colleen watched Greg loom over Janet on the dance floor. He was quite tall, dark-haired — Colleen could admit he was good-looking. But Janet still looked like she was too young to be in bars, which she was, so together they looked almost like father and daughter. Janet practically had to look straight up to kiss him. Colleen tried not to watch.

  She had tried over and over to explain to Janet why Greg was a bad match, but it was impossible to get anywhere with her younger sister. If Colleen pointed out how there was no way to rely on Greg — he had no connections there and could up and leave without any notice — Janet would point out that Kevin had been in a similar situation when he first got to town. If Colleen said Greg was too old, Janet would say he wasn’t much older than Kevin. If Colleen tried to explain the deeper problem, it would never come out right. She’d struggle to find words and end up saying that Greg was just . . . creepy. That always turned the talk into a proper fight.

  Her sister was quick to anger — a full-body, shaking rage, just the same as when they were little kids. She’d scream that Colleen was just jealous because Greg was such a handsome guy and that she didn’t want Janet to be happy because she was so fancy with her rich, successful fiancé. And all she wanted was to be happy. And then she’d say that Colleen was acting just like their parents and storm off to her room, slamming the door.

  It was always like that with Janet. She’d cool off and everything would be forgotten a few hours later, but the fights stuck with Colleen; she’d have kicked her sister out if she hadn’t known Janet would just move in with Greg.

  Kevin slumped into the booth beside Colleen and threw an arm around her. “Havin’ fun?”

  Kevin was already bleary-eyed, trying to focus. Janet came over dragging Greg by the hand. Greg winked at Colleen and sat down.

  The waitress came by with three pitchers someone had ordered. Kevin reached into his pocket and unrolled a wad of twenties and all the crew came over to top up their drinks.

  An hour later, after refusing Janet’s attempts to get her out on the dance floor and turning away Kevin’s sudden affection, Colleen was still sitting there. Kevin had passed out; five beers was enough to put him under for the night. When Janet came back to refill her drink, Colleen said, “We really should get out of here.”

  Greg came over. He elbowed Kevin in the ribs and asked about another round. Colleen said, “I think everyone’s had enough.”

  Greg said, “Come on, we’re having a good time.” He elbowed Kevin again, “You got one more in you, right?” Kevin barely opened his eyes but reached into his coat pocket and handed over some cash.

  Colleen said, “I don’t think . . .” but Greg was already up at the bar. He ordered shots for everyone and then, right after, two more for him and Janet. Colleen tried to climb over Kevin, but he was suddenly awake again and pulled her down for a sloppy kiss. She managed to get to her feet. Kevin passed out again. Colleen went up to Janet and pulled her away from Greg.

  “We’d better get out of here, it’s getting rowdy.”

  “Come on, it’s just getting fun.”

  “We have to go. Kevin’s passed out.”

  “Greg’s our ride. I don’t think he wants to go.” She called Greg over. “Colleen thinks we should go.”

  “Come on, Sis, have a drink, let loose.” He slapped Janet’s ass; she yelped and then fell into him a bit. He winked at Colleen and said, “You should be more like Kevin. He knows how to have a good time.”

  “He’s passed out.”

  “Second wind.” Greg pointed at Kevin, who was bouncing his way through the tables in the direction of the bathroom. Colleen went after him to make sure he was okay.

  She waited outside the bathroom a long time and finally had to get one of the crew to go in and make sure Kevin was still alive. They got him back to the booth and then another round of pitchers appeared in fro
nt of them. The waitress came to Colleen looking for payment. She sighed and pulled out Kevin’s wallet.

  Greg and Janet came over to refill their drinks and then Janet excused herself to go to the bathroom. Greg sat down across from Colleen and said, “What’s your problem anyway.”

  “No problem. I just don’t like being out at bars that much.”

  “Or is it me you don’t like?” His face was dark, eyes focused and unfocused while his hand searched for a drink. Colleen leaned into Kevin and jabbed him in the ribs. He only grunted. Greg said, “You’ve got a problem with me.”

  “It’s not that.”

  He leaned over the table. His breath smelled like whisky and cigarettes. He looked like he thought he was making a point when he repeated, “You’ve got a problem with me.”

  Colleen said, “I just don’t think you’re good for my sister.”

  Then Janet dropped down into the booth. Greg stared darkly across the table at Colleen while her sister said they should get another drink. Greg and Janet stood up and went to the bar. Colleen tried to get Kevin up without any luck. When she gave up, she saw that Greg was staring at her from the bar. And then again later from the dance floor. Colleen lost track of them and eventually the bartender said, “Last call,” and a little later the bar lights came on.

  Colleen tried again to get Kevin up. A waitress came over and asked Colleen to settle up the rest of the bill. Then Kevin was awake and reaching for the beer in front of him. He downed it before she could stop him. It seemed to wake him up a bit; at least he got to his feet.

  She got him outside and looked for Janet. She and Greg were making out over the back hood of his car. She got Kevin pointed in the right direction and pushed him through the small group of people still talking out front. When they got close to the couple, she said, loudly, “We should probably get going.”

  Janet pushed Greg off her. “Oh, hi.” Greg glared, then winked at Colleen.