by Marie Astor
“Sorry, honey. I couldn’t sleep, but I’m going to make it up to you.” Mila slid on the bed, sliding her hand over Anton’s hairy chest.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Anton pressed his hands into Mila’s flesh a little too roughly for her taste, but she knew better than to object. “Come to papa.”
***
At five o’clock sharp Janet walked through the door of the Panther restaurant. She exchanged a friendly hello with the busboy who had let her in, and made her way downstairs to change. Just then, Roman intercepted her.
“Hello, sunshine.” Roman smiled at her. Today he had taken greater care of his appearance, having shaved and put on a crisp, white shirt and removed the toothpick from his mouth.
“Hi Roman,” Janet replied, ducking her head as she tried to pass him.
“You call that a hello? Where’s my kiss? It’s the rule here that all the waitresses are supposed to kiss the manager. Didn’t Mila tell you?”
Janet stared straight into Roman’s eyes. Maybe he was kidding, or maybe he was serious; there was no way for her to know, and the truth was that she really didn’t care. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only: to learn about Petr Kovar’s connection to Libby. “Well, I don’t like this rule,” she retorted. “So you’ll just have to settle for hello.”
Roman laughed. “Feisty! I like that in a woman. I’ll see you later, Janet.”
Her cheeks burning, Janet literally flew down the stairs. She had enough trouble memorizing Panther’s menu; she didn’t need the added aggravation of Roman’s harassment.
She changed quickly and went back upstairs. Mila was already waiting there for her.
“Good, you’re on time,” Mila greeted her. “They really don’t like people being late here. Don’t give Roman an excuse to chew you out, if you get my drift.”
“I sure do,” Janet sighed.
Mila looked at her sharply. “What happened? Was he coming on to you or something?”
“Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle. He’s just a pest, that’s all.”
Mila smirked. “A giant cockroach, if you ask me. He is really the bad apple in the family, but they let him stick around here and pretend that he’s important.”
“The family?”
Mila looked at her as though Janet had two heads. “The Kovars. Don’t you know that Petr Kovar owns this place?”
“Does he? I had no idea,” Janet lied. “Who is Petr Kovar?”
Mila rolled her eyes. “Only one of the richest men in Eastern Europe and probably the whole world. Anton and Roman are his nephews. Anton is the one who really runs the place. Roman’s power only extends to bossing the waitresses around.”
Janet nodded. “Now it makes sense.”
“So even though he’s a cockroach, try to be nice to Roman, but keep your hands off Anton. He’s spoken for,” Mila added sharply.
“I noticed. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Mila gave Janet a once over. “Honey, I know.”
Under a different set of circumstances Janet would have given Mila a piece of her mind, but right now buddying up with Mila was more important than her pride.
“All right, let’s get to work before Roman gets on your case again,” said Mila. “Here are the specials for today. Be sure to memorize all the ingredients.”
Janet spent the next hour learning the specials of the day: roasted quails, seared venison, mussels in tarragon broth, and pistachio cream cake. The waitresses were also required to try a small sample of each dish, so as to better explain the menu to the patrons. Normally these dishes would have piqued her appetite, but right now she would kill for a burger and fries.
Before she knew it, it was the start of her shift. “Janet, you’re on table five,” Mila said.
“I’ll be right there.” Janet straightened her back and headed to her table. As ridiculous as it was, she was inwardly pleased with such a quick promotion. Junior waitresses were assigned to less important tables. Yesterday, she had covered tables one through three, but today she was already moving up to five. Mila must like her, which meant that Janet was one step closer to her aim. It was either that or Mila was simply after the bigger tips left by more important clients; she was getting half of Janet’s tips after all.
“Good evening, my name is Janet. I will be taking care of you tonight,” Janet greeted the diners, relieved to see that table five’s patrons were a couple. She was in no mood for anymore sexual innuendos tonight. “Would you like to start with a cocktail?” Janet prompted, remembering Mila’s advice on peddling drinks.
“Yes, please,” said the man, adjusting the cufflinks on his expensive-looking shirt. “I’d like a martini with a lemon twist.” He was wearing a tailored dark navy suit and a matching tie. He probably thought he looked sharp, but his dark gelled-back hair only emphasized his large nose and thin lips. He was not handsome at all.
“I’d like a blueberry martini,” the man’s blue-eyed, blond companion chimed in. She was clearly aware of her winning looks, acting as though she had descended from Olympus to bless her date with her presence. “Please make sure that it’s made with a gluten free vodka.”
“I will check with our bartender,” Janet replied in as even a voice as was humanly possible. She had no idea what a gluten free vodka was.
“I’d like water from melted ice for the table,” the blonde whined. “Roger made a request for it when he made the dinner reservation. It’s the only water I drink because of my diet.”
Janet’s lips parted for a reply, but before she could answer, Roger cut in, “Yes, yes I did,” he assured his date, eyeing Janet imploringly. “The hostess said they’d melt the ice in time for our arrival.”
“Of course. I will be right back with your drinks.”
Janet made a beeline for the bar. “Jason!” she called for the bartender who was busy with a customer at the other end of the bar.
Jason disengaged himself from the chat and moved to Janet’s side of the bar. “How’s it going, Janet? Learning the ropes?” he asked with a faint Irish brogue, his blue eyes looking at her as though she was the only woman in the world. Even though she had barely been there two days, Janet had seen enough of Jason to understand that was the way he spoke to everyone, especially the customers; it got him better tips. Still, she liked Jason and figured that he could be useful down the road. She would have liked to indulge his chatter, but right now she had to get those damn drinks for table five.
“Do we have gluten-free vodka?” she asked.
“Of course,” Jason assured her.
“Great. I need a blueberry martini with gluten free vodka and a regular martini with a lemon twist.”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Janet, honey, I know this job is tough, but watch your drinking!”
“It’s not for me. It’s for a customer.” Janet realized too late that she’d failed to laugh at Jason’s joke.
“I’ll do better next time, but you’ve got to loosen up a little, or you won’t last long in this place.”
“Thanks. What about melted ice for water? Table five is saying that they’d made a special request. I’m going to check with the kitchen right now.”
“Don’t bother, I got it.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“You know it.” Jason reached for a glass carafe and filled it with tap water. “Ice water, special request.” Then he grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, muddled some blueberries in a glass, poured some juice, and shook the concoction in a martini shaker. “Blueberry martini with gluten free vodka,” he announced as he poured the mixture into a martini glass.
“Jason! What if the customer finds out? She’s really finicky.”
“How would she do that, love?” Jason smiled broadly as he proceeded to make a lemon twist martini. “Have you ever tried gluten free vodka?”
Janet shook her head.
“Well, I have. It tastes exactly like any other vodka. So unless your customer is psychic, I’d say we’re
safe. Rodrigo!” Jason signaled to one of the busboys. “Get these drinks over to table five.”
A few minutes later Janet returned to table five to take their order.
“Don’t you see the difference?” the blonde was asking her date, taking a sip of her martini. “Gluten free is the way to go, Roger.”
“Yes, darling, of course,” Roger confirmed. “Ah!” he exclaimed at the sight of Janet. “Perfect timing. We’re ready to order.”
“Would you like to hear the specials?”
“Not for me. I know what I want,” said Roger.
“I’d like to hear them,” demanded the blonde.
“Of course,” said Roger. “We’d like to hear the specials.”
Janet recited the list of specials, but was interrupted before she could get to dessert.
“Quails?! You serve quails?” asked the blonde.
“Yes, it’s our chef’s specialty. From what I hear they are quite tender,” Janet embellished for effect. She had no idea what the chef’s specialties were, or what quails tasted like. Up until today she had never heard of a quail before. Instantly, she realized that she had made a mistake. The blonde’s eyes were welling up with tears.
“Quails?” her lips trembled. “How could you? They are such sweet little birds.”
“Yes, they are,” Janet mumbled, at a loss of what to say.
“Darling, why don’t you stick with your original choice of duck?” Roger intervened.
The blonde shook her head mournfully. “I think I’ll just have a salad. I’ve lost my appetite.”
Damn, Janet thought; now her tips were down by at least twenty percent. Mila would not be happy about that. There was a lot she had to learn about the art of pleasing customers, especially when it came to finicky blondes.
“Bring the duck anyway,” Roger added. “I’ll have the steak, medium-rare.”
“Very well. Thank you very much.” Janet rushed to give the order to the kitchen.
The evening became a blur of faces and dishes, as Janet made her rounds from table to table, a frozen smile plastered on her face. It felt like she was trapped in an endless avalanche of faces and dishes. At some point she had been covering six tables all by herself, and she was proud to say that she did a good job. She was not the only one who thought so; the six hundred dollars she had made in tips for the evening was a pretty good testament. Janet checked her watch: it was eleven p.m. She had just finished serving her last table, and there was a momentary lull. She still had two more hours to go, and she was wiped out.
While her waitressing skills were improving at an exponential speed, the true purpose of her employment at Panther remained unrealized. She had only been there two days, but in her line of work every day counted. She wondered how much longer Dennis would be able to keep making excuses for her. Maybe she should have come clean with Ham and told him that she was pulling double duty as a waitress at Kovar’s restaurant, but then she would also have to explain why she had gotten the job without consulting with either Ham or Dennis and forgot to attend to such an important detail as a fake id. If Ham found out that she had gotten the job under her real name, he would be disappointed. He would be disappointed even more if he knew what motivated her actions. Sure, she wanted to solve the case, but she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that her competitive streak had gotten the better of her.
“Janet!” Mila’s voice made Janet literally jump.
“Yes?”
“Calm down, girl! You did well tonight. Six hundred dollars in tips! Woohoo!” Mila raised her hands, snapping her fingers. “I say let’s blow this joint and go celebrate.”
“But my shift isn’t up until one a.m.”
“It’s up now. Have you seen the dining room? There’s no one there. The rest of the staff can handle it.”
“What if more people come in?”
“At eleven o’clock at night? I don’t think so. Besides, I just got two cancellations. So go downstairs and change, and then we’re out of here.”
Janet hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Mila asked. “You don’t drink?”
“Oh, I could use a drink, but what about Roman? I thought all the schedule changes had to be cleared by him.”
“Don’t be silly. Roman left early; something about a hot date. When the cat’s away—”
“The mice come out to play,” Janet finished. “I’ll be right out.”
“I’ll wait for you outside the entrance.”
Janet changed quickly and walked back upstairs. Her heart was beating as wildly as though she were going out on a date. In a way, this was just like a date; she had to look interested in Mila and convince Mila to like her.
Mila was waiting for her outside the entrance, smoking a cigarette. “Do you want one?” Mila held out a cigarette pack.
“No thanks, I don’t smoke.”
“I didn’t either, but this place has a way of getting to you,” Mila grumbled. “I should quit. It’s bad for your complexion.”
And for your lungs, Janet was tempted to pipe in, but resisted. “I’ll have one after all,” she added. One cigarette wasn’t going to kill her, but it could get her miles closer to making friends with Mila.
“That a girl.” Mila held the lighter for Janet.
Janet puffed tentatively. The first and last time she had tried smoking had been in sixth grade; the bout of uncontrolled coughing that followed nixed her further curiosity of the subject in the proverbial bud. She prayed the embarrassing episode wouldn’t be repeated now. To her surprise, the cigarette didn’t taste too bad; in fact, she kind of liked the calming sensation of the smoke entering her lungs. Great, she thought, now I’m going to start smoking to boot.
“So how long have you been working at Panther?” Janet asked to start a conversation. If she was going to risk her health, she would at least learn something about Mila in return.
“About a year,” Mila drew on her cigarette.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a job.” Mila shrugged.
“You could always get a different job,” Janet offered.
“Not when your employer is sponsoring your work visa, you can’t.”
Janet had noticed a faint accent in Mila’s speech, but had thought it too forward to ask until now. “Where are you from?”
“Prague, Czech Republic.”
“I love Prague! After college, I spent a month backpacking through Europe with my friends. It’s a beautiful city.”
“It’s beautiful all right, but there’s not much in the job department. Not if you want to be anything more than a bank clerk.” Catching Janet’s glance, Mila smirked. “I know, compared to a job at Panther’s, being a bank clerk sounds pretty good. When I came to America, I didn’t think I’d end up waitressing. I’ve learned that life in New York isn’t like they show it in movies.” Mila shook her head. “I used to watch that show, Sex and the City, and think that if only I made it to New York, life could be like that.”
“With your looks you could be a model or an actress,” Janet offered. Flattery was always a good way to get a person to open up, but in this case she was speaking the truth: Mila was drop dead gorgeous.
“That’s what I thought, but all the modeling agencies are of a different opinion. You can forget about acting; the competition is literally cutthroat. There are girls working at Panther who are way better-looking than me, and if they can’t get a break, I might as well forget about it.”
“You’re very beautiful,” Janet insisted. The waitresses at Panther were drop dead gorgeous, but Mila certainly had nothing to complain about in the looks department.
“You’re very kind, but I think it’s important for a girl to be honest about her looks. I’m an eight, but Clarisse, the waitress who got all the top tables tonight, is a ten. You’re a seven and a half.”
Janet resisted the urge to snap back. The last thing she needed was some stupid restaurant hostess to grade her looks, but her goal was to become Mila’s confidant,
so she let it slide.
“Hey, don’t get mad. I wasn’t being mean or anything. I think it’s important to be honest about your assets. It’s like when you’re going into a fight, you want to know exactly what’s in your arsenal. You are pretty, just not model material.”
“Thanks.” Janet began to wonder if maybe Mila’s difficulty in getting her dream job had more to do with her personality than her looks.
“I really should stop smoking.” Mila threw away her cigarette. “I already look like crap from all the hours I’ve been putting in.”
“Well, then there’s certainly no hope for the rest of us,” Janet quipped. “You should see the way customers look at you: the men’s jaws drop and the women’s eyes narrow. If that’s not enough, Anton is head over heels for you. How long have the two of you been together?”
“About a year.”
“You don’t sound very excited about it.”
“I’m not.”
“So why are you with him then?”
“It’s a long story,” Mila shot back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that I recently broke up with my boyfriend, caught him cheating with my best friend,” Janet improvised on the spot. “If someone like you can’t meet a good guy, what hope is there for the rest of us?”
“There’s always hope,” Mila set her lips in a determined line. “Enough moping around. We’re going to have some fun tonight. Remember my friend Amy I told you about? She’s going to join us for drinks. She really knows how to party.”
Mila weaved her way through the Meatpacking District, surely navigating its cobblestoned streets in the high heels she had changed into after the end of her shift. Janet silently followed Mila’s lead, deciding to suspend conversation attempts for the present. A few minutes later Mila stopped in front of a small bar.
“This is it.” Mila pushed open the door. The small space inside was packed to the gills. A petite redhead waved at them from the other side of the bar.
“I see Amy’s here already. Come on!” Mila slithered her way through the crowd, and Janet followed.
“You’re late!” the redhead mock-punched Mila in the shoulder.
