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One Too Many – Part One
Islotted the final pizza board into the rack of Mon Amour’s sardine-sized kitchen, then let out a sigh. You’d think Mon Amour would be a French restaurant, considering the name, but no. It was, in fact, a Moroccan one. Daniel, the owner, was adamant the name would attract a high turnover, and he wasn’t wrong. Tonight’s shift was a prime example of how we were run off our feet. But I think the reason for busyness was more to do with the food than the name.
‘Naomi, you ready, chicka?’ Deb asked me. ‘Come on. Everyone is waiting for you.’
‘Sure am.’ I grinned over my shoulder and caught sight of her sleek auburn hair, all fresh from yesterday’s hairdressing appointment. Sandy at Colour n Cuts foiled my thick hair blonder, and Deb got a recoat of auburn and a trim.
Deb’s ebony eyes observed my stripey apron. ‘Naomi, have you seen your apron?’ She let out a chuckle.
I looked down at the flour-covered cotton, shook my head, and laughed. I’d been too busy to notice the state my clothing was in.
‘You look like you’ve been rolling in flour.’ Her mischievous eyes glinted.
‘I kind of have.’ I shook off the flour into the bin behind my workstation and noticed some landed on the floor. So I quickly crouched and was about to grab the dustpan and brush to hide any traces of mess, but two black, shiny shoes appeared in front of me. My heart began to race, and I took a deep swallow as I lifted my head to see Daniel standing there with crossed arms. His wide hazel eyes glared into mine – making my stomach curdle. He was dressed in his usual all-black ensemble consisting of a shirt tucked into his fitted pants and a thick belt.Geez, how tight does he want his shirt? He must love the nipples-on-display look, and why are his nipples so hard all the time? Bizarre.
‘What’s this mess on the floor, Naomi?’ he asked in that condescending tone of his.
‘Oh, I-I was just shaking my apron into the bin. I’m sorry.’
‘Well, you haveclearlyfailed that task.’ He eyed the small sprinkle of flour on the freshly mopped floor.
‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I was about to—’
‘I didn’t realise it was such a hard task to clean flour off the floor. Isn’t cleaning supposed to be theonetask women excel at?’ His slicked-back grey hair caught the fluorescent light.
I looked at Deb for moral support, but she was staring at her iPhone screen and tapping away on it.
My face went red-hot and my cheeks burned as I dug my toes into my boots. I couldn’t help but think about all the times he’d lazed around on his shifts, getting waitresses to clean up the coffee-bean granules that he regularly spilt. On quieter days, he would scrutinise their cleaning skills with a keen eye, using his forensic vision to detect any traces of mess. If they missed a spot, he wouldn’t let it go until the floor was spotless, making sure they heard about it until every corner was clean. I pusheddown my thoughts, and instead of expressing my disgust at his conniving behaviour, I apologised to him once more.He’s your boss, Naomi. He’s always right … Don’t argue back … Best to smile and play along. Bastard.
He grabbed the dustpan and brush and dropped them on the floor for me to fetch.
‘Clean it. I will not have my restaurant in this state.’
I nodded and swept the flour into the bin, then checked it over so many times I lost count. My hands and knees remained on the floor until I was positive the floor was spotless.
After Deb and I had clocked our hours on our timesheets, we left the restaurant through the back door and followed the narrow pathway to the car park. It was instinctual to head straight to my Mazda hatchback, but the only car in sight was Daniel’s brand-new Mercedes Benz. Mine was at home in the garage.
‘Daniel’s Mercedes would’ve cost a fortune,’ Deb said as she eyed his four-wheel drive. ‘Dad was looking at buying one of those, but he said there was no way in hell he’d pay over one hundred grand for a car.’
I let out a laugh and looked around to see if Daniel was anywhere to be seen. The last thing I wanted was to be caught talking about his car in the car park. To my relief, he wasn’t. We continued walking and took a left turn as we made our way along Gympie Terrace AKA Noosa River. It was a long street that went for nearly two kilometres and boasted expansive river views and eateries galore. Our destination was only four restaurants down from Mon Amour.
‘I’m so glad you said yes to drinking tonight, chick. Honestly, everyone was super shocked when I told them you’d come for drinks,’ Deb said as she turned her head to me. We were walking side by side as our hands swung back and forth.
My response was delayed while I watched a group of women dressed in flamboyant, flowy frocks strut across the path towards a restaurant. The pitch of their giggles and pace of their quipping suggested that many beverages had already been drunk.
Charged with a sudden spike of enthusiasm and a desire to feel as giggly as those women, I replied, ‘About time I put my cooking books down and joined you all for a drink.’ I laughed, suddenly unsure if I was making the right decision or if I was in the wrong mindset and should’ve stayed home reading or watching another Netflix movie.
‘I can’t even remember the last time you had a drink. How long has it been?’ Deb glanced at me, then back at the pathway ahead illuminated by the streetlamp.
‘Not since …’ My throat tightened, and my eyes welled up. I cleared my throat, pushing the memory aside. ‘Not for a while. I think seven months ago.’
‘Well, I’m just glad you’vefinallygiven in.’ She ran her hand up and down my back, giving it a warm rub. Her auburn hair blew in the September night’s breeze.
‘My God, my feet are sore. Well, especially the left one,’ I said as an ache tore through the arch of my foot. ‘Do your feet ache?’ I halted for a moment and attempted to stretch out my foot as best as I could, but it didn’t help much. My only chance of relief was to take my boot off in the middle of the footpath (and I’d more than likely fall into a bush during the process because I was so tired and hadn’t sat down for hours).
‘All the bloody time. But that’s what you get when you do a ten-hour shift and are on your feet all day.’ She kept walking and didn’t look back.
