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On one side of the grill sat a plastic bus tub full of cheese. Hundreds of slices of provolone perfectly portioned and separated by rectangular pieces of wax paper.
On the other, a similar plastic tub full of torpedo rolls Monty’s got from a local bakery. They were baked to his exact specifications and were a perfect base for the steamy hot mess of oniony, cheesesteaky deliciousness that Monty’s put out every day. From eleven till eleven, seven days a week.
The kitchen was busy getting ready for the impending lunch rush. The employees were washing, prepping, cooking, cleaning and counting money for the inevitable onslaught of hungry diners that came by on an almost daily basis. It was busy. But, it was a good kind of busy.
Romeo was in the back of the store chopping and prepping. He stood in front of a long, stainless steel table working his way through a case of onions. Tears streamed down his face as he sliced and diced and sang along to the music coming out of the beat up boom box on the metal shelf on the wall to his right. Currently it was My Chemical Romance belting out their powerful pop/rock hit “Sing”.
“ Sing it from the heart. Sing it till you're nuts. Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts…” He bellowed it out over the sound of the radio and the din of the busy kitchen. “Sing it for the deaf. Sing it for the blind. Sing about everyone that you left behind…”
As loud and chaotic as this scene was, Romeo was totally in his own world. Zenned out by the music and the repetition of the job. Oblivious to the fact that Tara, the pretty new cashier with the blonde hair and the blue nose ring working her first summer job, was shouting his name.
“Romeo!” she yelled. “Romeo!” Finally she had to give up and walk over. She tapped him on the shoulder.
He jerked around. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Somebody here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know. Some guy.”
Romeo put down the knife, wiped his hands on the white cotton kitchen towel laying next to his cutting board and followed her the few steps to the front.
It was Perry. Standing at the counter waiting for him. Drumming his fingers. Completely out of time with the music.
“You?…”
“Yeah me,” said Perry, all serious and business like.
“What are you doing here?”
“Where were you?”
Romeo honestly had no idea what he was talking about. “When?”
“This morning. We had a date for a duel, remember?”
“What? You were serious about that?”
“Very,” answered Perry, leaning forward over the counter, trying to look menacing.
“Yo, you got to let this go. You want something to eat? A cheesesteak? You like onions? Peppers? What do you want? Anything. It’s on me.”
“I want satisfaction.”
“Who are you, Mick Jagger?”
Perry slammed his hand on the counter.
“Okay, you need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Uh… Yeah, you are,” said Nikki, appearing out of nowhere and pushing in next to Perry.
“Really? And just who are you?”
“I’m Nikki. Who are you?”
