Read Online Red Beans and Vice by Lou Jane Temple - Free Book Online
Authors: Lou Jane Temple
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make you happy. Just come out here,” Murray said, insisting.
Sara took the dirty kitchen rag from Heaven’s hand and untied her apron. “Bye,” Sara said firmly.
Heaven went over to the tiny kitchen bathroom and did her sixty-second beauty routine. She took off her chef’s jacket. She splashed water on her face to get any large chunks of food loosened and rinsed off, then applied bright pink lipstick. She mussed her red hair with wet fingers, giving it a little life. Then she stepped back out into the kitchen and slipped on a 1950s men’s sharkskin sports jacket that she always had hanging there, to give her tee shirt and tights a little boost. She didn’t bother to change from her kitchen clogs to high heels. “Thanks for working so hard. Lucky us. We get to do it again tomorrow night,” she said to the kitchen crew and stepped out in the dark of the dining room.
Every time Heaven entered the dining room it gave her a buzz. If the kitchen was backstage, the dining room was front and center. Hitting that swinging door, having your eyes adjust to the dim light, your skin be caressed with the coolness, your ears with the sound of Ella Fitzgerald and snippets of conversation from guests having a good time, it was a real high for Heaven. In those first few seconds of being in the dining room, the chaos of the kitchen, the sales tax due in a few days, the broken bar sink that would have to be fixed tomorrow, Saturday, at overtime rates, even the anonymous hate mail seemed like a small price to pay for standing there in the dining room in a world you’d created.
Heaven looked over at the bar and saw why Murray had insisted she come out. Jack was back.
Jumpin’ Jack, as he liked to be called, was a neighborhoodfixture. For years, he wore only army camo gear and insisted he had served in Vietnam. Actually, he was raised a rich kid in Mission Hills, had never been in the armed services, and was ten years too young to have gone to Vietnam even if he’d been well enough to be in the military. His family didn’t want to deal with him and his neuroses. They gave him money to stay away. Jack had helped Heaven out of some jams and in those cases his military delusions had come in handy, as he could could pick a lock and do surveillance with aplomb. But Jack had become confused and agitated more than a year before, and Heaven had insisted that his parents help him. Menninger’s was just sixty miles away in Topeka, Kansas, and couldn’t be beat for an expensive shrinking. This was the first time Jack had been seen since he went there to be fixed.
“Hey, stranger, long time, no see,” Heaven said and gave Jack a big kiss on the cheek. The camo gear was gone, replaced by jeans, a black Gap tee shirt and a tweedy sports jacket. His old beard was also gone and, clean shaven, Jack looked almost like a college professor. Heaven thought he was puffy though, probably from his medication. A few months ago, Murray had found out they were having trouble finding the right combination of chemicals to soothe Jack’s demons. Now, his eyes looked clear and friendly.
“Did ya miss me?” Jack said, like a regular person. Before he had spoken in military speak.
“We missed you terribly,” Heaven said. “Murray and I tried to come visit you but they said it would interfere with your progress. Can you have a drink?”
“My doctor said one drink a day will be fine,” Jack said.
“Tony, get this man what he wants, on the house. I notice you have a new wardrobe.”
“Scotch and water, Tony. I had to give up on the Vietnam thing. Hell, people who did go there have to give up on the Vietnam thing, let alone me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you if you need me, Heaven.”
“Tony, give me a glass of that new Adelsheim Pinot Noir, please. I’m gonna have a drink with my friend.”
While Heaven and Jack sat there, the rest of the staff meandered over and gave Jack a hello. Joe and Chris insisted on bringing him three
Sara took the dirty kitchen rag from Heaven’s hand and untied her apron. “Bye,” Sara said firmly.
Heaven went over to the tiny kitchen bathroom and did her sixty-second beauty routine. She took off her chef’s jacket. She splashed water on her face to get any large chunks of food loosened and rinsed off, then applied bright pink lipstick. She mussed her red hair with wet fingers, giving it a little life. Then she stepped back out into the kitchen and slipped on a 1950s men’s sharkskin sports jacket that she always had hanging there, to give her tee shirt and tights a little boost. She didn’t bother to change from her kitchen clogs to high heels. “Thanks for working so hard. Lucky us. We get to do it again tomorrow night,” she said to the kitchen crew and stepped out in the dark of the dining room.
Every time Heaven entered the dining room it gave her a buzz. If the kitchen was backstage, the dining room was front and center. Hitting that swinging door, having your eyes adjust to the dim light, your skin be caressed with the coolness, your ears with the sound of Ella Fitzgerald and snippets of conversation from guests having a good time, it was a real high for Heaven. In those first few seconds of being in the dining room, the chaos of the kitchen, the sales tax due in a few days, the broken bar sink that would have to be fixed tomorrow, Saturday, at overtime rates, even the anonymous hate mail seemed like a small price to pay for standing there in the dining room in a world you’d created.
Heaven looked over at the bar and saw why Murray had insisted she come out. Jack was back.
Jumpin’ Jack, as he liked to be called, was a neighborhoodfixture. For years, he wore only army camo gear and insisted he had served in Vietnam. Actually, he was raised a rich kid in Mission Hills, had never been in the armed services, and was ten years too young to have gone to Vietnam even if he’d been well enough to be in the military. His family didn’t want to deal with him and his neuroses. They gave him money to stay away. Jack had helped Heaven out of some jams and in those cases his military delusions had come in handy, as he could could pick a lock and do surveillance with aplomb. But Jack had become confused and agitated more than a year before, and Heaven had insisted that his parents help him. Menninger’s was just sixty miles away in Topeka, Kansas, and couldn’t be beat for an expensive shrinking. This was the first time Jack had been seen since he went there to be fixed.
“Hey, stranger, long time, no see,” Heaven said and gave Jack a big kiss on the cheek. The camo gear was gone, replaced by jeans, a black Gap tee shirt and a tweedy sports jacket. His old beard was also gone and, clean shaven, Jack looked almost like a college professor. Heaven thought he was puffy though, probably from his medication. A few months ago, Murray had found out they were having trouble finding the right combination of chemicals to soothe Jack’s demons. Now, his eyes looked clear and friendly.
“Did ya miss me?” Jack said, like a regular person. Before he had spoken in military speak.
“We missed you terribly,” Heaven said. “Murray and I tried to come visit you but they said it would interfere with your progress. Can you have a drink?”
“My doctor said one drink a day will be fine,” Jack said.
“Tony, get this man what he wants, on the house. I notice you have a new wardrobe.”
“Scotch and water, Tony. I had to give up on the Vietnam thing. Hell, people who did go there have to give up on the Vietnam thing, let alone me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you if you need me, Heaven.”
“Tony, give me a glass of that new Adelsheim Pinot Noir, please. I’m gonna have a drink with my friend.”
While Heaven and Jack sat there, the rest of the staff meandered over and gave Jack a hello. Joe and Chris insisted on bringing him three
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