Page 12 of A Slice of You

‘Hey, Kel. Busy morning?’

‘You bet. I just want to go home already.’ She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and let out a long sigh.

‘Where’s Daniel?’ I whispered, then looked around to make sure he wasn’t standing behind me.

‘He stepped out to get more milk.’ She scraped her chef clog on the edge of the lined bin.

She smelt like sweat, cigarettes, and the slightest bit of cheap, strawberry deodorant.

‘Are you on tonight?’ I asked while I watched her put her clog back on.

Her neck muscles tensed as they always did when she was annoyed by a question. ‘Naomi, is that even a legit question? Of course, I am. Daniel loves getting his money’s worth – you know this.’ Her feisty eyes widened.

I felt some relief at being a casual employee. Kelly was on a fixed wage and could work up to eighty hours in a week and still be paid the same. She was always exhausted, but the upside was she got sick and holiday leave, and I didn’t.

Unsure of what to say, I nodded, hoping I appeared sympathetic.

At 2:50pm, after our lunch rush, Paul, our head chef, walked in looking relaxed and sipping fresh coffee. Daniel would have made it for him. He always made Paul’s cappuccinos. Paul had on his tall, traditional chef hat, signalling his authority, while everyone else’s sat flat on their heads. His fluffy, walnut-coloured hair was tucked behind his ears, the shade nearly identical to his eyes. As usual, his white, buttoned jacket hung loosely over his black pants. Everyone else wore checked pants in our kitchen.

‘Well, don’t you all look like a bunch of zombies. Kel, take your hour break,’ Paul said while looking at her pale face. He paused. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she let out in a rush of annoyance.

‘Uh-huh.’ Paul cocked his thick eyebrow at Kelly as she gathered her things and left the kitchen.

‘Martin, start the prep. And, Naomi, you can go on a ten-minute break,’ Paul said in a fast, authoritative tone that got the momentum going.

‘Yes, chef,’ Martin replied.

I nodded in relief. ‘Thanks, Paul.’

I listened as they chopped away, and just as I was about to turn left to leave the restaurant, Daniel appeared and stopped me with his hand. This time, his pants were as tight as his shirt and he had an oval-studded belt wrapped around his hips, with pointed black shiny shoes to complete his outfit.

‘Where are you going, Naomi?’ he asked while munching on a mouthful of something potent with garlic. I looked at his slicked-back hair, which, so I had been told, had been grey since his late twenties, then at his thin lips as he swallowed.

‘Paul gave me a ten-minute break.’ I glanced at the dark specks of colour in his hazel eyes while trying not to inhale his breath.

‘Is that right?’ He gave me his usual patronising stare that made me feel guilty for nothing.

‘Yes.’ I nodded and took a step back.

‘And how many hours have you worked?’ His large eyes widened.

I wanted to say, ‘Enough for you to give me a pay rise,’ but what I ended up saying was, ‘I got in at eleven this morning.’

‘Oh, right. I see.’ He looked down at his golden, oversized watch. ‘See you in eight minutes, then.’ He sneered.

‘Uh-huh.’ I held a neutral face as I looked at him.

He turned around, and as soon as he did, relief flooded every inch of my body, but then suddenly, he spun back to face me. ‘Oh, and, Naomi, empty the kitchen bin while you’re at it,’ he said in his condescending tone.

I sneered too but only inwardly. ‘Okay.’ I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the bin bag, which had a few takeaway coffee cups and a banana peel in there. Paul stopped cutting and gave me a strange look.

‘What are you doing, Naomi?’ Paul asked, his knife mid-air.

‘Daniel asked me to empty the bin.’

‘There is hardly anything in there.’ He placed his knife down on the chopping board and shook his head. ‘What a waste.’