THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #6

6. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 14

Introduction to Characters:
Ken Cale: Restaurant Owner

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 1

Jake and Donna

**Ken Cale, the Restaurant Rush, and the Gook Comment**

Jake frequently asked Twila about Dale. It seemed to brighten her day, just hearing Dale’s name, and Jake was interested in keeping Twila happy. When Twila was happy, the place seemed to run smoother. Even the customers seemed effected by her disposition. But the biggest reason for his insistence on fostering Twila's happiness was to keep a good reputation with Ken Cale, the restaurant owner. Since Ken rarely made it into the restaurant, the most crucial role that Twila fulfilled was that of confidant to Ken, so Jake made Twila’s contentment his priority.

And on those rare occasions when Ken did make it into the restaurant, it was quite a surprise to the staff, and two weeks later, on a busy Friday night, Ken did walk in. A friend of his had called him after having experienced an unusually long wait for his dinner order. "I'm not sayin' I won't be visiting the place again, Ken, it's just that I thought you might want to know." He had said.

Ken Cale had grown up in the south. He had been raised on good southern food, and his mother had early on recognized his love of food and cooking, and she’d also recognized his talent at the craft. She had seen to it that her son attended the best culinary schools, and Ken had done well. After college, he had landed a rather prestigious job at a ritzy hotel in South Carolina. His success there landed him a head chef position at a renowned restaurant in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he’d met his wife. She was the granddaughter of the owner of the restaurant, and after a short courtship, they married. Soon after, her grandfather, Ken’s boss, told Ken about a restaurant in Bridgeport, Connecticut that was for sale and that had what he referred to as “great promise.” They purchased the establishment, and after a few years of 15-hour days, Ken had established a rather successful restaurant.

Ken stood in the waiting area for a couple of minutes, then made his way through the crowded dining area, stopping at tables along the way. When he asked one of the guests, a thirty-something mom with two kids, if there was anything he could get for them while they waited for their meal, she said no, that they were fine, that the wait seemed a bit long but that they were in no hurry.  

One of the kids, a six-year-old girl, leaned over and whispered in her mom's ear and she replied, "No, Honey, the waitress will be bringing your soda when she isn't so busy."

Ken asked, "What kind of soda did you order, Sweetie?"

Shyly, she leaned into her mom.  

"It's okay, Honey, you can answer the man."

Barely audible, the little girl said, "7-Up."

"Well, I'm going to get your drink for you right now, okay? You shouldn't have to wait long for something as simple as a drink. In fact, what did all of you order? I can bring all of your drinks out for you so the wait is a little less painful." And he smiled at Mom.

Relieved, she replied, "I ordered an iced tea, my son wants milk, and my husband, he's in the bathroom right now, he ordered coffee. And thanks so much!"

"My pleasure, Ma'am."

When he stepped into the kitchen, the two cooks immediately greeted Ken with a smile. One of them turned and rolled his eyes at the other. The board was lined up with orders that had been hanging for way too long, and when Ken asked head chef Lonnie about it, he replied, "We're in the weeds, boss, but we're doing the best we can." With a dishtowel he kept in his back pocket, he wiped the pouring sweat from his temples.

Ken pulled the longest waiting order from the ticket holder. It had been hanging for over twenty minutes. Ken asked the head chef, "Why are we so backed-up here?"

"We're in the weeds, boss. It's been tough keeping everything filled up. Jose here has had to go back to the box every five minutes to get something else, and we're startin' to run out of some of our important stuff."

"Important stuff? Like what?"

The chef rubbed his arm nervously and replied, "Like tomato sauce and lettuce. We run out of those and we’re shit-out-o’-luck."

A little worked up by now, Ken asked, "Are we completely out of any of them?" 

"Not completely out of lettuce, but we just used up the last can of sauce."

Ken turned and headed back to the dining room where he found Twila nervously bussing a table.  When she saw Ken, she sat her bussing tray on the table and grabbed him by his arm, "This night's bin a crazy one, Ken."

"Manny says we're all out of tomato sauce and just about to run out of lettuce. What happened, Twila? Why are we short this early?"

"I ordered our usual," Twila replied, "But this crowd just keeps on comin', Ken. I ain't seen a Friday night like this in years."

Ken looked out at the crowd and suddenly remembered the family he'd talked with just minutes earlier. "Oh, God damn it!"

"I'm doin' the best I can, Ken," Twila pleaded.

"I know, Twila. Just keep it up. I'm here to help. I've got to get this family their drinks. I'll be back to the kitchen to help out. In the meantime, send that young kid I hired--what's his name?"

"You mean Jake?"

"Yeah, send him to Wegman's right away, but first check out the box to see if we need anything else for tonight. Talk with the cooks, too."

"I'll do it right now, Ken."

Twila found Jake at the sink, hastily at work. When he saw her, Jake announced, "Hey, Miss Twila! This is what I call double duty!" And he pointed to the humming dishwasher and said, "I've got Hurricane on overtime, and I'm kickin' ass manually here. It's a contest!" Jake noticed the hurried look on Twila's deep red face and the sweat that had matted her hair. "You okay, Miss Twila?"

Twila patted Jake on the back. "I'm just fine, Honey. Ken just walked in the door and he's got a job for you."

Surprised, Jake said, "A job for me? What is it?"

"He wants you to run an errand." She held out a twenty and he grabbed it without hesitation. "Head on over ta Wegman's and pick up a can of tomato sauce, four heads of lettuce, and a package o' white napkins."

Jake replied, "You got it!"

"You want me ta writcha’ list, Jake?"

"Hell no, Miss Twila!" Jake called, trotting out the back door, "My mind is like a steel trap!"

Jake made it back to the restaurant inside of twenty minutes. He ran in through the back door, down the short path behind the walk-in box that led to the kitchen, and straight to where he saw Ken, standing behind the cash register. Ken completed a transaction and Jake tapped him on the shoulder.  Ken looked at Jake blankly. He hadn't seen him since the first week of his employment.  

Jake spoke calmly, "Hello Mr. Cale. Here's what you wanted."

Ken patted Jake on the shoulder and said, "Okay. Excellent!"  

Then he addressed the cook standing in front of the stove, "Jose!"

"Yes, Boss."

"Take these heads of lettuce and get them chopped. And dump this sauce into the empty pan over there. Let Lonnie know that we've restocked, and make sure Twila gets a hold of these napkins. We're running low at almost every table."

Ken looked at Jake, "Nicely done, young man. I hope you didn't break any speed limits.”

Jake smiled, "I’ll never tell, sir."

"I obviously don't have time to chat now, but I'm looking for some help in another capacity, and you might be interested."

"Oh, yes sir!"

A timer on the side of the large oven sounded. Ken looked around for either Manny or Jose, but neither was in sight. It was clear to Jake that Ken was a bit panicked, so he asked, “Is there anything more that I can do to help, Mr. Cale?”

"For now, help Twila with those tables,” He replied, “She's been a busy bee all night and could certainly use a slow down."

“Absolutely, Mr. Cale.”  

Ken stepped into the cold box and found Jose reaching for a box of onions. “Jose, there are guests waiting for their orders, and nobody is watching the oven.”

“So sorry, Mr. Ken.” Jose replied.

When Ken returned to the till and saw that he’d left it wide open, he swore under his breath and slammed it shut. Jose finally made his way back to the ready oven.

Orders went out, and somehow the night progressed without drama.

Guests slowly filtered out of the restaurant, and when she felt that she could handle the remaining tables, Twila thanked Jake for his help; said he was 'a heaven-sent angel' and told him that he might want to return to the pile of dishes that waited so patiently for him.

He reached the sink and noticed that the pile of dishes that he had been working on was gone. He looked in the filled cabinet above him; everything had been washed and dried. He opened Hurricane; just as he’d anticipated…it was empty.  

Bill came out from the bathroom drying his hands with a paper towel. He saw Jake and grunted, "Hey."

"Did you do all of these?"

"All of these what?"

"Dishes; did you wash and dry all of these while I was out?"

Bill said, "It's in my job title.” And as if he was reading a billboard he said, “Bill…dishwasher.”

Jake had intended on finishing the dishes himself. He wanted to be able to tell Miss Twila that he had run that errand, but he had also finished all of those dishes.

Jake looked hard at Bill and said, "I wish you would have let me finish what I started here, Bill."

Bill replied, "Really? Huh."

Jake said, "From now on, when I start a job, don't take over like that, 'cause when I start a job, I finish it."

Bill walked slowly toward Jake. He stopped just before Jake took a small step back. Bill slowly pulled the pack of Pall Malls from his work shirt pocket and shoved the last one in his mouth. Then he dropped the empty box on the floor in front of Jake and said, "Pick it up."

Jake stood motionless. He wanted to tell Bill to go fuck himself; to pick it up himself, but he couldn't. All he could manage was, "What if I don't?"

Bill lit the cigarette and blew the smoke in Jake's direction.

Jake said, "You can't smoke in here."

Bill repeated, this time with less volume, "Pick it up, boy."

Twila came barreling through the double doors. She saw Bill standing in front of Jake. At first, she thought nothing of it, but when she recognized a panicked look on Jake's face, she asked, "What's goin' on in here, boys?" Then she noticed the cigarette hanging from Bill's lips. "Bill!  You know dern-well you can't smoke in here, now take that thing outside, Honey!"

"Yes, ma'am, I will." And Bill reached down to pick up the box.  

When he stood up, he looked directly into Jake's eyes. The smirk on Jake’s face was wiped clean with Bill's quiet response, "Looks like Mommy done saved the day for little boy wonder."  Then he stepped outside to finish his cigarette.

Twila told Jake about how impressed Ken seemed to be with how quickly he made it back to the restaurant and how ambitious he looked as he helped her with the tables and how nice he interacted with the customers and that he had probably saved an otherwise disastrous night. 

Jake smiled big and said, "Just doin' my job, Miss Twila!"

"Oh, you are an angel, you!" She replied. "And somehow, on top 'o everything else, you finished all 'o these here dishes!"

Jake glanced toward the door then back at Twila, "Yeah, it was a contest, remember?  And he was a tough match, but in the end, I kicked ole' Hurricane's ass!"

Twila said, "You know what? I want you to take off early tonight. You deserve a night out, a youngster like you on a Friday night. Go now, Jake, and I'll have Bill take care o' the moppin' and such.  He won't mind the overtime, I'm just sure."

Jake looked up at the clock. It was 8:40. He hadn't left before 11:30 PM since the day he started. He replied, "Miss Twila, I'm gonna take you up on that offer," And he added, "If it doesn't hurt my reputation, of course."

"Oh, you go and have yourself a good night, Jake. Maybe take that girlfriend o' yours to the movies."

"I might just do that. And thanks, Miss Twila!"

"Goodnight, Sweetie!"

Jake untied his apron and threw it in the laundry bag. He stepped out the back door and headed toward his car. Bill was standing next to the dumpster, finishing his cigarette.  

As he unlocked his car door, Jake said, "Have a good night, Bill. And enjoy that overtime pay while you do my job again." He started the car and backed up, then he rolled down the window and called out, "I hope being alone in there late at night don't bring out the Gook ghosts, Bill. I hear that can be hell for a Viet Nam has-been." 

Bill was dragging the bucket out of the mop closet. Twila was pulling till-duty. "Sure do 'preciate ya doing this alone tonight, Bill."

He turned the hot tap over the bucket at the commercial sink, and the steam was thick. He took a few steps toward the front of the kitchen and said, "What's that, Twila?"

"I said I sure do 'preciate ya doing this alone tonight. I just thought it might be nice to give that young boy a little time off. He worked hard tonight." And she looked down at the floor and shook her head.

Bill asked, "Somethin' wrong?"

"Oh, I just can't get over how much work that boy done tonight." She looked back up at Bill and said, "You know that boy done run an errand for Ken, and in a few minutes time he done a whole shit-load o' dishes piled up on that there sink."

Bill grunted.

"Yeseree!  And on top o' that, he done emptied that there dishwasher, too!" Then she grinned real big and continued, "And he is a funny one, that boy. You know what he named that dishwasher?"

"No ma'am, I don't."

"He named it Hurricane! Now, ain't that the funniest thing y'evr done heard of, Bill?" She giggled at the thought of it, and her hanging double chin wiggled like a fish.

Bill thought for a moment then said, "Yeah, he is somethin'."

Bill noticed that Twila was unusually quiet during her usual last minute closing duties. He chalked it up to a busy night. She left for home by 10:30. Bill finished up and locked the doors by 12:45. He threw on his coat, saddled his old Schwinn bicycle, and began his 15-minute ride home, thinking the entire time about the treatment he'd received from Jake and the lie Jake had told Twila. He also thought a bit more about Twila’s quiet demeanor, and it worried him.

But it was the 'Gook' comment that bothered him the most.