GRILL!: The Misadventures of an RV Park Fast-Fry Cook. Diane StegmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
then they accidentally get from me the combative response they were looking for and I am left with shame. They are thrilled.
It seems that the breakfast rush is over. I am finishing up with the last of the dishes when Karen walks over to a large oversized coffee cup stuck under the counter. She dumps out a pile of folded dollar bills and begins counting. She and Bubba are exchanging small talk about the events of the morning crowd. They seem to be pretty buddy-buddy, and I am not included in the conversation. Karen divides the tips, and hands Bubba his half. They do not offer any to me.
“Good morning for us. Looks like fifty dollars a piece.” Karen announces.
Wow, that sure will help when I start cooking! It pumps up the minimum wage thing to a more acceptable level.
There are no customers at this point in the restaurant. I hear Bubba go into the cold storage unit, when he comes out; I hear the pop of a beer can being opened. Karen approaches me. “I need ya to start peeling the skin off these cooked potatoes. I’ll start getting the rest of the ingredients ready. When we’re done with that, I’ll need ya to get on the corn.” I hear the back door next to the grill open and shut. I also hear the golf cart rumbling outside. Goodbye Bubba. Have a nice day! You’re welcome you big jerk! What a bully! I feel my adrenalin flowing now. Why is it always a few hours late? I won’t be sucked into his negative energy.
As soon as I have finished peeling the warm potatoes, Karen plops down a large bowl of boiled eggs. “Here, peel these too!” She is cutting up the potatoes and adding them to the giant bowl of potato salad. We are working side by side, yet so far away. I think I can warm Karen up to me at some future point. I feel that she could possibly need a friend; either that or she is having one hell of a menopause. Bubba has no excuse what-so-ever. He’s just a big, stupid, uneducated jerk! Oh dear, I think I’m getting an attitude. It’s too early for that!
The space between the meat counter and the table we are currently chopping at is only wide enough for one body. Helen squishes past Karen and me, our butts uncomfortably rubbing together. She opens the meat counter and gets herself a large handful of hamburger, using a sheet of wax paper.
“I guess I’ll have to cook myself some lunch since Bubba is off duty.” Helen says holding the mound of raw meat.
“Nothin’s stopped you before. So what makes today any different?” responds Karen.
Helen is using the palms of her hands in order to protect her fingernails. She pats the wax paper covered hamburger into a patty then plops it on the hot grill. She then brushes a bun with melted grease from a stainless steel container and lays them gently on the grill, being careful not to let her fingernails make contact. She stands at the grill looking at her nails while the hamburger cooks. “Just want you to know. We have eighty-five confirmed tickets for the barbeque tonight.” I’m not sure if Helen is speaking to both of us, or just to Karen. Is eighty-five a lot, or is that a low turnout? Karen does not respond, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond. I say nothing. Helen continues. “And as we know, twenty or thirty extra guests usually just show up without tickets.” Where have I landed? How could one small restaurant in the middle of nowhere be the center point of a major food source for some unknown hidden community? I really expected this job to be casual and easy going. Is it too late with too little money to run home to mom and dad? Would Lori take me in? My sons would love for mom to move in. Wouldn’t they? No, I could never ever admit failure.
I need to get Bonita and Bandito out to pee as soon as possible. Is that bacon soaking grease into my purse? When will Ray fix my water leak? My mosquito bites are burning and itching again. That is one hell of a pile of corn to shuck! I think I’m having an anxiety attack, but no one notices, or even cares.
I stop ranting in my mind and take a deep breath. I close my eyes and chant to myself within the quiet place inside. ‘I own my life, and only mine, and so I shall appreciate my person, and so I shall make proper use of myself.’ I take another deep breath and begin again. ‘I own my life, and only…’
“Billy I could never ever thank ya enough as long as I live!” My concealed chanting is silenced by the sound of Ruby who is over by the register hugging Billy, who is patting Ruby’s back. Billy has a cigarette in her mouth and it bobbles up and down as she says something to Ruby in their embrace. Ruby has some cash in her hand and is crying. Billy starts heading in the direction of the kitchen with Ruby following behind.
As soon as Billy enters the kitchen area, an aura of control and reason seems to follow her. Karen smiles and Helen stands up straighter, no longer looking at her fingernails. I can feel Billy’s powerful and reassuring presence; at least I am praying that she has some sort of power over these people. I need someone who is grounded in this whack joint, please!
Ruby leans on the meat counter and is looking in our direction with a sort of slobbery look on her face, a sort of sincere dreamy happiness with a slight bit of drunkenness.
“Hi Ruby.” Both Karen and Helen acknowledge Ruby.
“Hi Ruby.” I am the only one smiling at her.
“Denise! Hi! How the hell ya doin’?” I feel slightly more loved and appreciated at the moment, even under the circumstances. Billy taps my back in a reassuring way as she passes on her way to the cold storage unit. She knows that she has put me in hell! She’s going to be my rock, my firm ground to depend on. She’s glad I’m here. I just know she is! She knows everyone else is nuts! All is well.
Billy comes out with a dozen eggs and a twelve pack of beer. She puts it up on the meat counter and has Ruby sign a piece of paper.
“Thanks again Billy. Yur the best!” Ruby walks out of the building with her goods.
“First things first.” Billy says calmly and directed at me. “Never, I repeat; never, loan that girl any money. You’ll never get it back. Bless her heart. She means well, but she just can’t get it together, always a crisis with her. The damn dog that I told her not to get in the first place, got bit by a rattlesnake yesterday and needs anti-venom. I can’t let the brute die! Can’t much afford to save it either. So Denise, how ya gettin’ along?”
Karen and Helen are staring at me. “Great, Billy! Everything’s just great!” I fib, while thinking about the twenty bucks I’ll never see again.
“That fifth wheel gonna be okay for ya?” Billy asks.
“It’s just fine. Thank you very much.”
“Good. Now let’s all get ourselves busy. People will be coming in for lunch, and we have a lot to do to get ready for the barbeque. Karen, get the slabs of tri-tip out of the cold storage and bring it here. I need to season it for Bubba to get on the barbeque pit. Denise, how’s that potato salad comin’?”
“I believe it’s about ready Billy.” We have a leader! I’m so happy!
“Good. Good. Now we better get the corn shucked and get the beans in a kettle. It takes a few hours to heat up that amount of beans. Helen, get the lettuce and soak it in the sink.” Billy has obviously been doing this routine for years.
“Uh, Billy? I’m sorry but could I go back to my trailer for just a few minutes and let my dogs out? It’ll just take a minute.”
“No problem! Just get yurself back here ASAP.”
I walk out the back door next to the grill. My dogs are barking. There is a stench in the air, a mixture of smoky lighter fluid and something rotting. As I walk down the delivery ramp of the kitchen, I pass the large trash compactor. It has sticky ooze coming out from the bottom ledge. Flies are buzzing on and around the slime. There is a flytrap hanging above and near the trash compactor that is full to capacity with dead and trapped flies. I see the barbeque drum flaming, but do not see Bubba or Terry. Bonita and Bandito can now see me coming in view through the screen door and turn up the volume of their barking, in fact they even start howling like little wolves. I might have to shut the broken door from now on to keep them quiet.
Bubba and Terry are setting up picnic tables on the lawn area. I wave at them as I pass. They do not wave back since at