D. Schmidt - They Ate the Waitress?

The tables at Hand to Mouth were highly-polished, black mahogany decorated with carvings of medieval and Renaissance art. The tops of the tables had circular indentations marking recessed plate warmers. The chairs were high-backed thrones with feet like lion’s paws. Everything else was trimmed in gold or studded with jewels or expensive for other reasons that only the absurdly wealthy could understand.

A waiter spoke to a table full of young women, awkwardly explaining how the chef prepared the Rocky Mountain oysters. Two children in overalls chased each other, laughing, steak knives in their hands. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. Sitting near the back of the restaurant was Dr. Günter von Plumpsklo, a plastic surgeon and minor celebrity. He was famous for being the first doctor to perform cosmetic surgery on internal organs. It was important to look your best at your autopsy. After all, those would be the last photos of you ever taken.

Nick wandered over to a table and threw his coat over a chair. Taking a seat, he waited for a server. At the next table, a young woman was sitting by herself, eating the last few bites of a steak. Her hair was cut in a short bob, dyed pink, almost the same color as her low-cut cocktail dress. Around her neck was a black leather choker studded with pink diamonds. It looked like a remarkably expensive cat’s collar. Nick cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, but I’ve never been here before. What would you recommend?”

“Oh, anything, really,” she said casually, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Your second meal is the one that really matters. The first time people try the food, most of them are too focused on what it used to be to enjoy the taste.”

“What’s it like to eat another human being?”

“It is a miraculous, life-changing experience,” she said, closing her eyes. “Like giving birth in reverse. Instead of bringing a miracle into the world, you take a miracle into yourself. The moment I first heard about this place, I knew I had to come. The first bite was like touching the face of god. It made me feel immortal. I knew, somehow, that I was eating the person’s soul.”

“Do the steaks come with a baked potato?”

“And your choice of soups.” Opening her eyes, she smiled brightly. “The ‘clam’ chowder is to die for – No pun intended!”

“I’ll have to try that.” He offered her his hand. “By the way, I’m Rick Welding.”

“Gabrielle.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do, Ms…?”

“It’s just Gabrielle. I’m a singer/songwriter,” she said, pronouncing the slash as a separate word. “And what do you do, Rick Welding?”

“I’m the entertainment manager of a new nightclub on the south side of Portland. We’re opening in a few days. I’m supposed to audition some performers.”

“What kind of performers are you looking for?”

“The usual… Strippers, showgirls, plate spinners…”

“Oh, you! Be serious!” she laughed, touching his arm.

“Actually, we do need singers. There’s just something about the sound of a woman’s voice that makes men want to buy overpriced mixed drinks.”

“Well, well, well! Why don’t you come over to my place sometime and I can audition for you privately?” Rising from the table, she handed him a business card with a tiny hologram chip embedded in its surface. He rubbed the chip with his thumb, and a tiny Gabrielle appeared on the card. The hologram waved, blew him a kiss, and then flickered and vanished. “I have an appointment right now,” the real Gabrielle said, “but you can trans me tonight. I’ll be up outrageously late. Ciao, baby!”

As he watched Gabrielle slink out the door, Nick heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. He turned in his seat to see Todd Sweeney having an animated conversation with one of the waiters. The waiter was a man of about twenty, with bleached blonde hair and a sallow complexion, wearing the same white shirt, red tie, khaki slacks combination as the rest of the male staff. He had a silver ichthus, the “Jesus fish” symbol, tattooed on his wrist.

“For the last time, Aaron,” Todd barked, “I do not want you in the back with Gordon! You are to remain in the dining hall with the rest of the waiters! You are banned from the rest of the building!”

“Alright! I’ll stay out of the damned butcher shop! Now, if you are finished publicly humiliating me, I have customers waiting.” Aaron pulled a notepad from his apron, switched it on, and strode across the room to Nick’s table. “Hello,” he said listlessly, “My name is Aaron and, as the cliché goes, I’ll be your waiter. What can I get for you this fine evening, my good sir?”

“Does everything have people in it?”

“Yes.”

“Even the bread?”

“ Especially the bread.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have a beer.”

Aaron made a mark on his notepad. “Good choice, sir. For first-time customers, all of our beers come with a free basket of ‘chicken’ fingers.”

“Oh, lucky me.”

Glancing up from his notes, Aaron eyed Nick suspiciously. “And… don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You might have seen me on television,” he replied. “I was in an ad for a plastic surgery clinic. I was the ‘before’ picture.”

Aaron’s face showed that he didn’t believe Nick, but realized that he was not in the proper social position to call him a liar. After all, he was bringing him food, not reading his resume. Forcing a smile, he said, “Oh, I remember you now. I’ll be right back with your order.”

Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t returned. But Nick didn’t mind. In fact, he was rather relieved. “A chance to do undercover work in a cannibal restaurant without having to eat any of the food!” he thought happily. “Boy, this worked out well.”

“And here’s your chicken!” It was Jessica, the flirtatious redhead from the other night. Her hair was pinned into a bun with silver chopsticks. She wore a distractingly short skirt and a blouse that looked tight enough to cut off her circulation. “Oh, you’re that magazine guy! Dick, right?”

“Nick, actually,” he said, forcing himself to make eye contact. “And keep it down; I’m undercover here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “I should have known. This is one of those secret restaurant reviews, right?”

“Exactly. I want to get the authentic experience, so just treat me how you treat everybody else at Hand to Mouth.” Glancing down at his plate, he suddenly felt very ill. “Well, not like him.”

She frowned at him concernedly. “Are you alright?”

“Me? I’m just fine,” he lied. He took a deep breath and waited for the nausea to pass. It didn’t. “I was just wondering what happened to my waiter.”

“It looks like Aaron walked off the job.”

“He left? Just like that? Why?”

She shrugged. “Hard to say. He’s been pretty unstable lately, throwing fits, crying over nothing. He’s been hanging around Gordon a lot, too. They’re both kind of creepy, if you ask me.” She picked up a knife from the table and checked her reflection in the blade. “Speaking of oddballs, I noticed you talking to Gabrielle.”

“Oh? What’s so odd about her? I mean, other than eating here.”

“Well, first of all, she enjoys the food a little too much.”

“I noticed. I’ve never seen a woman get that excited about food that wasn’t covered in chocolate.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I’m serious about her food fetish, though. I heard she’s trying to sleep with a man for every salad dressing. So far, she’s been with a Russian, a Frenchman, and a guy who lives on a ranch.”