Free Taking The Heat by SD Hildreth Page B

was polite and interacted with my customers, they were appreciative of my personality and humor, and rewarded me in a reasonable tip. The customers themselves were a real pleasure of my work. Either by design or sheer luck, there were never really any problem customers in the establishment, even at the bar. Although I couldn’t be certain, I suspected it was because Toad was the owner. He appeared to me to be the type of person a man wouldn’t want to cross. As I walked into the kitchen, I grinned toward the other pleasure of my job, Junior.
    “Two full. Beans and slaw on each,” I said as I pinned the order to the carousel.
    “Comin’ right up, Miss Sydney,” Junior grinned.
    In the short period of time I had worked at the restaurant, I had talked to Junior quite a bit. After finding out he grew up in a home with no father, I felt a little closer to him. His mother had raised him, three brothers and sisters, and two other children he called his siblings. In reality, he had three siblings and the other two children, the youngest, were his cousins. All told, there were six children, Junior included. They ranged in age from 6 to 19, Junior being the oldest. I admired the fact he still lived at home and worked for the sole purpose to provide for his family.
    “Busy night, huh?” I asked as I grabbed a plate of ribs for another table.
    “Sure nuff, Miss Sydney. Busy as a bunch of bees, we are. Makes the time pass real quick like, you know. I like it when we’s busy. When we slow down, I get bored after I clean the kitchen. When I’m bored, I want to eat me some of Mr. Toads barbeque. If’n I eat like I used to, Mr. Toad’s gonna put that big boot in the middle of my black ass. So busy is good,” he chuckled.
    “I still haven’t had my sandwich for the day, Junior. You can have it later, how’s that?” I asked as I pushed my butt against the kitchen door.
    “I could sure nuff use it, Miss Sydney. I’m a feelin’ faint,” he laughed as he raised his hand to his forehead.
    I rolled my eyes and pushed my way through the door. As I walked through the dining area and toward the gentleman who had ordered the ribs, I passed the table of the two refinery workers and paused. As I held the plate under his nose, the man’s eyes widened.
    “Good God. Now that’s a rack of ribs,” he said as he reached for the plate.
    I slapped his wrist with my free hand, “Sorry, these aren’t yours. I just wanted to show you what you’re up against.”
    “Think I’ll manage just fine,” he grinned.
    After dropping off the ribs, it seemed as if the next thirty minutes or so was nothing but delivering food to tables. Again, I had nothing to compare it to, but it seemed taking orders and delivering food came in completely separate waves. After taking half a dozen orders or so, I would be caught up on orders, and then the delivery would start. After the delivery of food to each of the tables, dropping off the bills came in another wave, and then cleaning the tables. In fractionally more than a week, I felt I had the system down to a sheer science.
    I glanced at the table of the two refinery workers. Both men were leaned against their chair backs talking. Each of their plates still had what appeared to be two untouched ribs. A precursory glance around the restaurant produced no one needing a refill on drinks or napkins. I grinned as I walked toward the table.
    “So, how many more ribs you want?” I asked as I flopped down in the empty chair.
    “Shit. I can’t finish these. Biggest fuckin’ ribs I ever seen,” he moaned.
    “Can we get a doggie bag or a box or something?’ the second man asked.
    “Sorry. We take the uneaten ribs back to the kitchen and serve them up all over again. It helps keeps cost down,” I shrugged as I stood.
    Both men stared as if in shock.
    “Just kidding,” I laughed, “Can I get you anything else? Other than a couple boxes, that is?”
    “You know,” the first man began, “We eat out every