"Dinner was lovely Aspen. You truly made our anniversary special." Mrs. D said. She wound her chiffon scarf around her neck and adjusted her coat. Mrs. Dahl was a regular here since I first started working. She had stopped coming for some time since she had always been on the manager's bad side but so was I and I guess that's where we hit it off. She was a woman in her late seventies. Silver permed hair and a wrinkly smile. A retired actress but she was looking to get back on the screens soon.
Her husband nodded in agreement as I cleared up their plates. Mr. Dahl was the quiet type. He wasn't mute but he wasn't chatty either. Usually he sported a distressed leather trench coat and a black turtleneck. He used to be a director but for some reason, he left Hollywood and he and his wife settled in Pepper Pot. He usually left me a huge tip especially when I snuck him a box of his favourite menthol cigars. Mrs. D didn't know about the cigars and I felt really guilty but I think she suspected something was up so for the past two visits here, I'd just told him that I hadn't gotten any time to buy the cigars. It was for his own good.
"Is there any way you can share the recipe?"
My eyes went to the manager who watched me through narrowed eyes like a hawk.
"I'm sorry, it's a trade secret." I shared my rehearsed line maintaining my stoic demeanor as was expected of me.,
Her face fell and it tugged at my heartstrings, knowing that prawn tagliatelle was her favourite dish here.
"But tell you what, I'll stop by this weekend and I'll make it for you from scratch." I whispered. Technically, it wasn't against restaurant policy, if they never found out, right?
Her face lit up immediately.
"Oh, bless your heart dearie. What I would give to have a daughter like you."
"You flatter me too much Mrs. D." I told her. "But please don't stop, flattery will get you everywhere with me."
We shared a laugh before the couple left. I smiled to myself.
After buffing the last of the tables, I made my way to the back to grab my stuff. Working at Il Palazzo Reale, which was Italian for 'The Royal Palate,' was the most excruciatingly painful thing I'd had to do all my life. I had to suck up to a bunch of Hollywood Elites who stopped by here when they wanted to be away from the cameras or some local wannabe celebrities who'd recently won the lottery and wanted to pretend like they actually had a name outside Pepper Pot.
Put like that it may, simply appear like I'm being a whinny rich girl who's never had to buff tables before. But imagine having to force a smile for some smarmy producer eye-banging you from time to time and 'accidentally' spilling wine all over your shirt as you pour it into his flute, just because he wants to catch the colour of your bra. Or having to serve some Crimson Storm band members making all sorts of awful jokes.
"Hey Sweetheart, I got a free VIP ticket with your name on it."
"Aren't you guys the marching band from Whitmore Academy?" was all I said.
"Yeah, come with me and I'll be your half time show."
I nearly spilled the entire bottle of Chardonnay on him. I just served them and left in a hurry as the guys laughed. I couldn't cause a scene lest I lose my job and goodness knows I needed this money to pay dad's bills.
I wiped the sweat off my brow and pulled the apron over my head.
"Hey, Decora." I heard my boss Mr. Bianchi call.
"Yes sir?" I scanned his face. "I...Is there a problem?"
"How I put this? I need you to rebuff all tables and shine all wine glasses, we expect big people tomorrow."
"Big people?"
"Si Hollywood people and I want everything perfetta." he said.
"But...I have to stop by the hospital today. Can't it wait until tomorrow morning?"
"Big stars come early, so unless you come before six in the morning..."
I sighed.
"O...okay." I grabbed a dishcloth. "I'll be quick."
"No, no quick. Slow. Completa. Thorough." he said and he tossed me the keys before he walked away whistling merrily. At times, I thought he really enjoyed torturing me with work. I circled the counter and took the first flute off the shelf and began wiping.
I made my way past the dull, white-wash and pale green, curtained exam rooms and crossed over to the west wing of the hospital, where the pastel colours burst into deep yellows and blues. Zoo animals painted on the walls, pink grid tiles lining the floors, the sound of giggling and laughter as I approached the large . pastel blue doors leading to the playroom, I knew I was in the right place.
I pushed open the doors and the laughing stopped as everyone turned to me.
"Hey everyone, Aspen's here!" yelled one of the girls.
"Hey kiddo," I said setting the guitar aside.
I pulled up a chair and picked her up in my arms and she giggled pulling my hair. Nelly Faynight was one of the patients here since before I started coming here. I wasn't really a volunteer, I just loved spending time with these kids. They made me feel sane, which when you think about it is kind of ironic with all the screeching wailing and screaming.
"Hey, I was supposed to sit on Aspen's lap today." whined a little blonde girl.
"Nuh-uh." Nelly shook her head. "That was for story time. Not now."
The blonde girl; Anastasia pouted and looked away on the brink of tears. I put Nelly down.
"Ohh, are you going to sing for us today Aspen?" Ana, asked.
The kids joined in chanting that I sing and sat down in a circle around me waiting.
"Ooh, sing the butterfly song!" Ana suggested.
"Yeah, the butterfly song!"
"Just one song." I gave in.
I grabbed my guitar and started strumming.
"See my wings, can you see how high I fly, can you believe that I'm beautiful oh my when it's you and me, you make me feel so alive..."
The children sang along and seeing them this happy, making them forget for a second that they were in a cold, lonely hospital, it made me feel...fulfilled. It was a strange feeling, for sure but these kids warmed the cockles of my heart and their laughter and silly antics made me so happy. Like I could for a moment escape the dark prison that was the world around me and I could be a part of something.
"...when I take the skies I want to fly with you around me, see the fireflies dance. And when we're on the clouds and the sun is setting, I will spread my wings and fly, like a little butterfly."
The children cheered and soon, the room was a flurry of activity again with them running around the room, kneeling at the low tables kneading modelling clay into absurd shapes. finger painting and some playing with stuffed animals. I sat behind Ana, braiding her hair as she played with a Barbie Doll in a glittery outfit.
"What's your friend's name Ana?"
"Her name is Aspen, and she's a pop superstar like you." she said.
"But I'm not a superstar Ana," I laughed.
"You could be."
We both looked up to see three people at the door. A woman with short, blonde bobbed hair and a wool-blend pantsuit. Next to her, a man with overjelled hair and a pair of plum crepe trousers and a black cotton shirt folded at the sleeves. I hadn't noticed them before and I didn't recognize two of the three, but I could recognize Lance from a mile away. He stank of presumptuousness and overpriced cologne. It was a stench I had become familiar with.
"That was some singing darling, have you ever considered becoming a superstar?" the one in the glitzy suit said.
Then I remembered him from the commercial. The showrunner of WES. Ingrid Lombardi. I turned to Ana and Nelly with a smile.
"You girls go on, I'll be back." I promised and stuck out my pinkie. They both wrapped their pinkies around mine before they skipped away holding hands. I turned back to the three looking at me expecting an answer.
"I have. It's a colossal waste of time." I turned to my guitar and carefully replaced it into its bag.
"Well, it's a colossal waste of time with a better paycheck than waiting at Italian restaurants." he argued.
"No one likes a bootlicker Ingrid." remarked Lance. "And I'd chop my tongue off if I ever had to lick those cheap knock offs."
I swerved around.
"Were you guys following me?" I snapped.
"Actually, Samie and I met Lancey on his way to a posh restaurant for lunch and since it's the only thing that looked at least above three stars, I joined him and what I have heard about you my dear." he took my hands in his. "You have got a nose for drama and you have got exactly what we need for this season of WES."
I shrugged his hands away.
"Yeah, well unfortunately, I have got as much IT Factor as you've got charisma."
"Hey!" His hand flew to his chest his mouth dramatically open.
"I'm just being honest," I pointed out. "You sound desperate and though the prize is enticing, I'm good buffing tables at a three-star restaurant." I said and walked around them.
"You really think you're something don't you?" came Lance's voice. "You need us."
I stopped and held back a snicker.
"If I'm the one who needs you then why the hell are you the ones who've been following me around?" I scoffed. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but no thanks."
I zipped up my guitar bag and slung it over my shoulder. "And by the way Lance Launceston," I took out a pocket tissue and handed it to him.
"What the hell is this for?"
"You've got a little bullshit on your lip." I snapped and walked away leaving all of them dumbfounded and hoping that none of the kids had heard me say that.
"That girl's got spunk." Lombardi remarked holding in a laugh.
"She's a real piece of work isn't she?" Lance ran a hand through his hair.
"To be fair, you deserved it." Samantha said. She drew out her phone and in no time she was texting someone or the other. She walked a bit of distance away and soon she was mumbling into her phone, casting them a sideways glance from time to time.
"Now what?" Lombardi threw his hands up in defeat.
Sam came back a few minutes later and looked at the floor thoughtfully.
"The girl seems to be masking the fact that she has stage fright. I bet her only audience has been these moppets here, so going in front of a lot of cameras might be a fright for her. And she clearly needs the money but she seems not to want to earn it through the prize money."
"And who would refuse a golden opportunity to be a millionaire overnight?" Lance asked." Relatively speaking?"
"Blood, sweat and tears over easy money? A sense of moral duty?" she shot Lance a glare. "You know, not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth like you Launceston. Keep that in mind."
She turned to Lombardi.
"We will approach this differently. You two put on your best washed-out jeans, we're going to a high school party." she said and she sashayed out of the room her heels click-clacking even beyond the doors.
Lombardi held in a laugh.
"You really have a way with women don't you?" he snickered before following behind.
Lance sighed.
A little girl looked up at him with curious eyes.
"The hell're you looking at you little brat?" he snarled and the girl just smiled at him and skipped away singing.