Lee’s eye. The two walked on and the workers’ chatter continued.
Lee returned his attention to Carissa. “Do you like this kind of work?”
She thought a moment. “I like the money. I like having my days free, making my own schedule.”
“Must be harder for women.”
“We have to prove ourselves twice as much as you guys.”
“Are you the only female A waiter?”
“Oh that. The list.” She folded her arms. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”
“What do you expect?”
“Any thoroughly classist organization dedicated to the rich and corrupt must also be sexist and racist.”
Lee giggled.
“Why are you laughing?” Carissa asked. “You don’t believe me?”
“I’m laughing because it’s true.”
“It’s hard to see the truth.”
“It’s too exhausting just working for these people. Fabulous is too glossy for politics.”
“Too tastefully presented,” she said.
“Too easy to digest,” he added. “You know, I like your philosophy.”
“You know, you should come to an ACT UP meeting sometime.”
“Oh, uh ... I’ve been meaning to. Mondays are always good work nights. But I saw the thing on TV last month ... I saw Kevin.”
“Oh, the FDA? It was fantastic. You shoulda been there.”
“Did you actually get arrested?”
“Of course. But not everybody has to.”
“Well, I’m not sure if I’m ready for all that.”
“That’s okay. You will be. You just haven’t had any friends die. Am I right?”
Lee didn’t know what to say.
She leaned close to him. “And until you figure it all out, there’s lots of cute guys at the meetings.”
Lenny Zahuti barreled through the double doors of the hallway. “Okay, people, time to clean up.” The group groaned, sighed, and trudged back into the dining room.
The large atrium with ceiling windows had an expansive splendor, yet the tables displayed a state of abandoned disarray, cluttered with spilt coffee cups, smudged dessert plates, dripping candles and plucked centerpiece bouquets.
As they broke down the tables, carried off dishes, and blew out candles, Lenny bellowed out orders. “I want all the tablecloths folded. I don’t care if they’re dirty, I want them folded!” He puffed furiously on a cigarette and waddled back into the kitchen.
Brian glanced across the expanse of collapsing tables to Lee. What had happened to them, he wondered? What was to stop the same thing from happening with Ed? His thoughts were broken when Andrew Spears, one of few humane captains, patted him on the back.
“Lost in space?”
“Huh? Oh, hi. How ya been, Andrew?” They stripped a table of its chintz cloth. The foam underliner floated up a moment. Brian wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a nearby pile.
“Oh, the usual. Had a few auditions. I got an extra scene on Young and Restless . Yourself?”
“Alright, I guess,” Brian thought.
“Getting any work?”
“Well, a few parties next week.”
“No, I mean acting.”
“I’m not an actor,” Brian shook his head.
“Oh, I thought you were.”
“No. I’m a waiter.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“I did get you into this, though.”
“No, I put that on Marcos’ shoulders.”
“But he came to me.”
“So be it.”
Someone had stepped up to the bandstand and sat at the black grand piano. It was one of the waiters. He began playing a Chopin nocturne.
Andrew watched distractedly for a moment, then turned back to Brian. “Oh, I understand, believe me. But you should do some modeling.”
“Too short.” Brian saw Lee approaching. He tried to ignore him.
“Hmmm. Maybe porn?”
“What?”
“I have a friend whose ex-lover produced that new Jeff Stryker tape. Did you see it?”
“No.” They moved on to another table.
“You know, he’s really short. You don’t have to be tall to ... Who is that playing the piano?” Lee asked as he collected votive candles.
The cacophony of folding
Lee returned his attention to Carissa. “Do you like this kind of work?”
She thought a moment. “I like the money. I like having my days free, making my own schedule.”
“Must be harder for women.”
“We have to prove ourselves twice as much as you guys.”
“Are you the only female A waiter?”
“Oh that. The list.” She folded her arms. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”
“What do you expect?”
“Any thoroughly classist organization dedicated to the rich and corrupt must also be sexist and racist.”
Lee giggled.
“Why are you laughing?” Carissa asked. “You don’t believe me?”
“I’m laughing because it’s true.”
“It’s hard to see the truth.”
“It’s too exhausting just working for these people. Fabulous is too glossy for politics.”
“Too tastefully presented,” she said.
“Too easy to digest,” he added. “You know, I like your philosophy.”
“You know, you should come to an ACT UP meeting sometime.”
“Oh, uh ... I’ve been meaning to. Mondays are always good work nights. But I saw the thing on TV last month ... I saw Kevin.”
“Oh, the FDA? It was fantastic. You shoulda been there.”
“Did you actually get arrested?”
“Of course. But not everybody has to.”
“Well, I’m not sure if I’m ready for all that.”
“That’s okay. You will be. You just haven’t had any friends die. Am I right?”
Lee didn’t know what to say.
She leaned close to him. “And until you figure it all out, there’s lots of cute guys at the meetings.”
Lenny Zahuti barreled through the double doors of the hallway. “Okay, people, time to clean up.” The group groaned, sighed, and trudged back into the dining room.
The large atrium with ceiling windows had an expansive splendor, yet the tables displayed a state of abandoned disarray, cluttered with spilt coffee cups, smudged dessert plates, dripping candles and plucked centerpiece bouquets.
As they broke down the tables, carried off dishes, and blew out candles, Lenny bellowed out orders. “I want all the tablecloths folded. I don’t care if they’re dirty, I want them folded!” He puffed furiously on a cigarette and waddled back into the kitchen.
Brian glanced across the expanse of collapsing tables to Lee. What had happened to them, he wondered? What was to stop the same thing from happening with Ed? His thoughts were broken when Andrew Spears, one of few humane captains, patted him on the back.
“Lost in space?”
“Huh? Oh, hi. How ya been, Andrew?” They stripped a table of its chintz cloth. The foam underliner floated up a moment. Brian wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a nearby pile.
“Oh, the usual. Had a few auditions. I got an extra scene on Young and Restless . Yourself?”
“Alright, I guess,” Brian thought.
“Getting any work?”
“Well, a few parties next week.”
“No, I mean acting.”
“I’m not an actor,” Brian shook his head.
“Oh, I thought you were.”
“No. I’m a waiter.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“I did get you into this, though.”
“No, I put that on Marcos’ shoulders.”
“But he came to me.”
“So be it.”
Someone had stepped up to the bandstand and sat at the black grand piano. It was one of the waiters. He began playing a Chopin nocturne.
Andrew watched distractedly for a moment, then turned back to Brian. “Oh, I understand, believe me. But you should do some modeling.”
“Too short.” Brian saw Lee approaching. He tried to ignore him.
“Hmmm. Maybe porn?”
“What?”
“I have a friend whose ex-lover produced that new Jeff Stryker tape. Did you see it?”
“No.” They moved on to another table.
“You know, he’s really short. You don’t have to be tall to ... Who is that playing the piano?” Lee asked as he collected votive candles.
The cacophony of folding
Similar Books
