The Price

Chapter Ten continued (and a bit more) –Untitled

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ Solway said to him fifteen minutes later. ‘You can tell her she’s just not the right fit, or something.’

‘I feel like I’d be going off a thought process that may not even be true,’ Hans replied.

‘I think you should give her a chance,’ said Fennel. ‘I’ve worked with her, remember. She’s pleasant, she does everything she’s asked, and she has scrubbed that kitchen from top to bottom. There’s really nothing to complain about, except her attitude.’

‘Yes exactly. The attitude. We haven’t had a chance to check this out either.’ Hans waved the resume in the air. ‘It’s Sunday, it’s her third day, and we can’t get hold of any of this information until during the week.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Fennel. ‘I don’t know what’s going on though aside from a personality clash, and really mate, it’s not hard to have a personality clash with you.’

‘What?’

Bart, the arsehole, had started laughing. Hans glared at him, and he took a quick slug of his beer. Solway wasn’t laughing though, thank God. At least someone was on his side.

‘You people do not understand what we’ve been through,’ she said.

‘Exactly,’ said Hans.

‘You’ll have to excuse me for being blunt,’ said Fennel. ‘But you’re not fucking royalty.’

‘Give me another fucking Cognac,’ said Hans. ‘And that was very blunt, you prick.’

‘Do you always let your staff talk to you like that,’ asked Solway.

‘We passed that point a few weeks ago when we started on this bottle,’ Hans replied honestly. ‘Fennel could almost be my work wife.’

Fennel started laughing, as did Bart. Solway looked stricken.

‘You’re not gay are you,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t be an idiot Sol. I know you’d still love me if I was, but you really need to pull your knickers out of your arse.’

‘You wanker.’

‘See. You love me anyway.’ Hans sat back and skolled his drink. ‘This is still shit Fennel.’

The chef nodded.

‘I don’t have a choice in the loving you department, arsehole,’ Solway interrupted them, snatching the glass from Hans. ‘You’re my brother. Fill this up for me Fennel?’

‘With pleasure,’ the chef replied, pouring for her.

‘Well, now I’m bored.’ Hans stared at the ceiling and tried not to howl. Christ, that had come back quickly. He cleared his throat. ‘I need to… I’ll be back in a sec.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Bart. Hans looked at him. He didn’t look comfortable either.

‘Don’t girls do that,’ Fennel called after them as they left the table.

Hans glanced at him over his shoulder. ‘If they did mate, you’d be coming with me instead.’

He and Bart marched rapidly across the dining room heading for the toilets.

‘She’s here,’ muttered Bart.

Hans knew exactly what he meant. ‘I know.’

to be continued…

Chapter Ten continued — untitled

Apparently Fennel had allowed them to turn the radio up in the kitchen. Hans shook his head at the distant thumping and threw himself into the chair opposite Bart.

‘So, you and my sister huh.’

Bart looked confused. ‘It’s been two years, Hans.’

‘Yeah well. There you go then.’ Hans sighed. This small talk business wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Where the fuck was Fennel and that cognac?

Solway nudged him with an elbow. ‘So, about the tiny person.’

‘Don’t start.’

‘She’s very cute.’

‘She’s Canerican.’

‘A what now?’ She turned to Bart. ‘Do you know what that is?’

Bart shrugged. He looked confused. Excellent.

‘We can’t quite pick the accent,’ said Hans. He smiled.

Solway grimaced at him. ‘Enlighten me, stupid.’

Hans growled. ‘I made it up, okay? Which proves I’m not stupid, just so ya know. Bloody hell, Sol, can you give me a bloody break?’

‘So…? What does it meeeeeeean?’

‘Canadian or American, or something.’ Hans sighed dramatically. Why the hell did she not get the joke?

‘Couldn’t you tell from her resume? Or a passport? Or something? Won’t she need to fill out paperwork?’

‘I don’t do that stuff.’ He waved a hand airily.

‘Then who hired her?’

‘I did.’

She gave an exasperated sounding noise that reminded him of a kettle boiling. ‘Did anyone look at her resume?’

‘Ah Fennel!” Hans grinned and leapt up to grab the bottle from the weary chef’s hand. ‘Just in time. Did you bring glasses?’

Fennel sighed. ‘No, I didn’t. I’ll get some now.’

‘Never mind, I’ll do it. Back in a tick.’ Hans left as quickly as he could.

‘You are not getting away with this you bloody coward,’ Solway called after him.

Hans looked down at his swiftly moving feet. ‘Looks like I am though,’ he muttered under his breath.

He decided he’d give the glasses an extra polish while he was there. With a bit of luck. Fennel would be answering all of Solway’s questions right about now, and when he got back to the table they could finish the cognac.

Gretal was still folding the tablecloths.

‘I thought you were sitting with your friends,’ she said.

‘I am.’ He smiled. ‘I was merely escaping for a short moment because my sister was asking me questions I couldn’t answer.’

‘That’s your sister? Oh that makes sense.’ Gretal looked over at the table. ‘She’s very pretty.’

‘Thanks. She’s very clever too, which I tend to forget at the most inopportune moments.’ He sighed.

‘I think we’ve all got a brother or sister like that.’ Gretal grinned at him. ‘Sorry. Was that too personal?’

‘That’s alright. I think we can relax the rules for one night. I’m very proud of my sister, so moments like these are very special to me.’ He grabbed a couple of glasses and cleared his throat. ‘It’s probably good if the staff know who my family are anyway. It stops the rumours from flying.’

The waiter blushed. ‘I might have something to apologise about.’

Hans shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You might have, yes. I’ll let it go this time. I will say one thing before you explain it to your friends in the kitchen.’ He winked. ‘This is the reason we don’t talk about personal things. It’s a perfect example, don’t you think?’

She frowned slightly. ‘I suppose… but, if we’d known, wouldn’t that have prevented it from happening in the first place?’

‘Are you making excuses?’

‘No, but…’

‘Lesson one.’ Hans smiled. ‘Be discreet. It’s part of our job, okay? When you’re at work, don’t discuss the customers, don’t speculate about them, don’t stare at them — especially when they can see you. It’s none of your business. We are just here to make things go smoothly, and give them the best dining experience. That’s our job and our reputation. I can’t stress this enough.’

‘Okay. But…’

‘I understand what you’re thinking and believe me, if I think my staff knowing something about someone they’re serving is going to make it better for the person they’re serving, then I would absolutely let you all know. Okay?’

‘Okay. I suppose things could go badly if the wrong information about someone got out.’

‘Things could go wrong if the right information got out too,’ Hans said softly. ‘Not only have I experienced it personally, I’ve seen it with other people. So has my sister. I wouldn’t want the same thing happening to you. So… Me having faith in you guys to be professional while they’re here is something I don’t want to regret. Alright?’

‘Got it.’ Gretal folded the last of the tablecloths. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Hans smirked and shook his head. ‘No problem. I’m going to give you a few minutes to talk to the guys in the kitchen. After that, I’m coming in and we’re going to talk about the next most important thing.’

Gretal gave him a wide-eyed stare. ‘Is it bad?’

‘No. But it’s in your best interest, and the best interest of the people you are working with. Off you go.’

He gave her five minutes. It was more than enough time. Going into the kitchen was like entering a warzone of words.

‘Nobody tells me anything,’ Shane was squeaking as he walked in. ‘I should have known!’

‘I beg your pardon,’ Hans asked.

‘Oh.’ At least she looked a little contrite. It didn’t last long. ‘If you’d just told me…’ she said.

‘If I’d just told you what?’ This sounded interesting. Why had she decided it was her business?

‘Never mind.’ She began filling a mop bucket with water, effectively cutting off any further conversation.

Hans realised at that point how many deep breaths he’d taken in the last half an hour. He decided he wouldn’t start counting them because he’d probably give himself a nervous tic. Shaking his head he stepped over to the sink and turned off the tap. She glared at him and turned it back on.

‘Don’t,’ he said softly. This lady was really pushing his buttons.

She froze. Hallelujah. The bloody woman was listening for a change. Let’s see how long that lasts, he thought to himself.

‘I’m assuming Gretal has updated you all on my “current relationship”,’ he announced to the world in general.

Gretal snorted. He tried not to roll his eyes.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. Right, next thing. You already know this,’ he added to the sous chef and Gretal. ‘But I’ll repeat it for Shane’s sake.’

‘Shianne,’ said Shane, and Gretal snorted again.

Bloody hell, thought Hans. Have I walked into a piggery? ‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘This is for all of you, and especially you Shane, if you are going to continue working with us.’

She opened her mouth and he held up a warning finger.

‘Can you just not talk for a few minutes.’

The sous chef started making a weird cackling sound. Okay, not a piggery. More of a farmyard. She sounded like a bloody chicken.

‘As you may have noticed,’ he said to Shane. ‘People in the hospitality industry are slightly insane. In a good way,’ he added hurriedly as she began to frown. ‘Anyway, I’d like to get to my point if you could all control yourselves. Please.’

That shut them all up, for a moment at least. ‘I’m going to say this really quickly before you all turn into raving lunatics. If you guys ever have a problem with any other staff members, or with one of our patrons behaving inappropriately or rudely towards yourselves, please let me or your immediate superior know know as soon as you can. This is really important, okay? If you can sort it out yourselves, then great. As long as no one draws blood I’m happy. I’m joking. I do mean this though because you all have the right to feel safe in your work environment, and if you don’t for any reason then we should be hearing about it. It does not mean…,’ He glared at Shane. ‘… that you should be complaining because someone looked at you the wrong way or has told you off for not doing your job, okay?’

She didn’t say anything, which was probably quite fortunate.

‘Good. Now you can all be idiots together. I’m going to spend time with my sister. Bye.’

Hans straightened his collar, smoothed back his hair, and left the kitchen. On the walk down the hall he checked himself in the mirror. Perfect. The radio in the kitchen sounded like it had been turned up yet another notch, probably due to the rain on the roof, and someone decided to start singing loudly and off-key.

Hopefully it would be a good ending to a bad afternoon. Hans put his hands in his pockets and crossed his eyes. The more interactions he had with the staff around here, the more obvious it had become he needed to get the restaurant manager’s position filled. He snatched up the polished glasses on the way back through to the dining room and deposited them next to Fennel.

‘Is Shane’s resume and information still in the office?’

‘It’s Shee-ann,’ said Fennel. Clearly he’d been trained by the crazy woman in the kitchen on how to say her name. ‘Yes, I left it in the top drawer. Is something bothering you?’

‘Quite a lot is bothering me,’ Hans replied. ‘You’re right, Sol,’ he said patting his sister’s shoulder as he passed her. ‘Something is definitely going on and I don’t think it’s what you think it is.’

Solway put down her fork and gave him a concerned look. ‘Is she one of those?’

‘Let me get that information first and then we’ll decide.’ He turned back to the chef. ‘Fennel, I’ll definitely need that drink.’

Fennel had already taken off the lid. ‘I’m on it.’

to be continued…

Chapter Ten — Untitled.

By the time his sister and her partner were ready for mains the other diners had departed. It looked like it was going to be a very early night. It had also started to rain.

Hans stood in front of the glass, peering out into the carpark. This place needed a garden or something in front of it, to give it a bit more ambience or whatever that word was that made things look better. It would be much nicer than looking at bitumen.

He and Gretal had cleared the other tables, and she was now off putting the tablecloths in the washer dryer he’d purchased for the restaurant last week. He sighed. Fennel loved the bloody thing so hopefully the purchase would redeem itself at some point. If not, he supposed they’d just go back to hiring the laundry service, and he’d give the damn thing to Solway.

‘This tarragon sauce is amazing,’ she said from behind him.

‘That’s good,’ he replied distantly. Puddles had started to form in the carpark and were reflecting the overhead lights.

‘Are you going to sit down,’ asked Bart. ‘Looks pretty quiet?’

He turned around. They looked right together, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. ‘Just give me a minute,’ he replied. ‘I need to go to the kitchen.’

Solway widened her eyes at him around a mouthful of pork.

‘Stop it, Sol. I’ll be back in a tick.’

He passed Gretal on the way through. She carried an armful of tablecloths.

‘Can I fold these behind the bar tonight,’ she asked.

‘Sounds good.’

‘Are you okay?’

He frowned. ‘I am, thank you. I think we’ll call it.’

‘We still have patrons.’ She looked over at Solway and Bart.

‘They’re with me, if you didn’t notice.’ He smiled. ‘It’s raining, Gretal. We can get onto all the other things you need to learn sooner than you thought.’

‘Alright then. Thank you Hans.’

Hans nodded, smoothed back his hair and kept walking. ‘No problem. Fennel!’

Fennel looked up from whatever he was covering at the stainless steel bench. ‘Are you calling it?’

‘I am, yes. We only have one table left, and they’re with me.’ He could hear the rain on the roof in here, so there’d be no point in mentioning it.

‘Makes sense. It’s starting to bucket down,’ said Fennel, glancing at the ceiling. ‘Are your people having dessert?’

‘I can cover that. Think you can start on cleanup? Who’ve we got left?’

Fennel glanced over at the sink. Shane had begun tackling the pots and the sous chef was stacking the sink behind her. ‘One of you two can go home. Which one is it going to be?’

‘I’ll stay,’ said Shane.

The sous chef didn’t look very happy about that.

‘You’re working for free, remember?’ Hans frowned at her. He didn’t want this woman messing with the existing staff.

‘Doesn’t that make sense? How late do you usually open on Sundays?’ She looked pointedly at the clock on the kitchen wall. It had only just gone seven thirty.

‘Not that late,’ Hans replied. Why did he feel like snapping at her every time she spoke?

The sous chef stayed quiet. She knew this was an early call too, but was far too clever to say anything.

‘You’re the boss, Hans. What would you like to do,’ Fennel asked.

The Shane woman looked stricken. ‘You’re the what?’

‘The boss,’ Fennel said gently. ‘He owns the place. And several others besides. It’s highly possible I should have mentioned this earlier.’ He didn’t look in the least bit remorseful.

‘Figure it out amongst yourselves,’ Hans growled. He took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. But, I’d like to take some time with the people out there.’ He nodded towards the restaurant. ‘Fennel. Where’s that bottle?’

Fennel gave him a wink. ‘I’ll get it for you shortly. Might even join you, if that’s alright. I think I’ll clock off myself and leave these two to clean up the kitchen.’

‘Finally, a good idea.’ Hans had had quite enough of these people for one night. ‘See you shortly.’

‘Right then,’ Fennel said loudly as he exited the room. I’m giving you a list. Put your hearing aids in.’

That made Hans grin, even if only for a moment. He wondered if he should get Bart another beer.

to be continued…

Chapter Nine — Untitled (or yet another badly written story).

So far, it had been a fairly quiet Sunday and Hans had decided to send Pieder home early. He’d also found out that Gretal had been the one running the show during the period of the former manager’s habit of hiding in the office, so had been observing her work the dining room all afternoon. She did a good job, mostly because she’d had to, but could do with a little more training to get rid of some of those rough edges. He had no idea how good she was with numbers, but if she could count a till, surely she’d be able to figure out the rest of what it entailed being a restaurant manager. He called her aside just before she ducked into the kitchen again.

‘Gretal. You’ve done closing before, right?’

‘Yes I have.’ She gave him a quick grin. ‘Did you want me to do it for you tonight?’

‘That would be good. I might run you through a few extra things as well, if you don’t mind staying back a bit. Do you have someone picking you up, or do you need to call someone?’

‘Thank you, yes I do. I appreciate that Hans. Leave it with me.’

Good response, he thought. Not a pushover, and not too demanding. This might actually work out. ‘Thanks, Gretal.’

She nodded and quickly moved off into the kitchen.

Hans glanced back into the restaurant. Oh good, Solway was here.

^^_____O_____^^

‘Does it matter which table we sit at?’

Solway smiled. Bart would think of something like that. ‘I think we’re okay. It’s pretty quiet.’ She glanced around the large room. ‘There are only a couple of groups here. Oh look, there’s Hans.’ She pointed discreetly at her brother, who currently resembled some kind of male catwalk model as he stalked across the room towards them.

Bart grimaced. ‘How the hell does he do that?’

‘Genetics? Something like that? No idea.’ Solway grinned. ‘Do you want me to show you?’

‘Not if you want to stay here and have a free dinner, no. I’d have to take you home, and I don’t want to do that. I’m hungry.’ He gave her a lopsided smile.

Hans came to a stop in front of them. ‘Good to see you sis.’ He leant over and gave her a hug then turned and glared at Bart. ‘Bart.’

‘Oh stop it.’ Solway smacked him on the arm. ‘What are you feeding us?’

‘Don’t you want a drink first?’

‘Bart can have one. I’m driving so I’ll stick to water.’

Hans rolled his eyes. ‘Okay.’

He didn’t seem himself. Solway looked at her brother carefully. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘Are you okay?’

He rolled his shoulders and looked at her carefully. He wouldn’t usually be rolling his shoulders while he was standing out here in the middle of the restaurant doing the meet and greet he was supposed to do, especially if there were other patrons around and staff behind him.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

‘Have you got time to talk?’ He seemed on edge, almost jumpy. ‘What’s going on?’ She glanced at Bart. Even he seemed to have noticed the difference and had almost curled himself up into a protective ball. ‘You see it, right?’

Bart nodded, eyes wide as Hans glanced around the room almost, but not quite, furtively, which really set her heart to racing. He leaned over again.

‘I’m not gonna lie Solway. I’m feeling really off. I am trying really hard not to react to people, and it feels like I’m turning into the dog.’

‘What? Here? What do you mean?’ She went to rise from her chair.

‘Not now,’ he growled. ‘But it got worse when you guys came in, and it’s making me feel more stupid than usual, if that’s possible.’ He looked at Bart again, his eyes almost disappearing under a furious frown. ‘Don’t say a word if you value your life, mate.’

Bart held up his hands. ‘Wasn’t planning on it,’ he said quickly.

‘Good.’ Hans stood back up. ‘So, let me work and get that out of the way first. What do you want to drink? Shit. Here’s the drinks menu. Oh, and the others. Fuck. What am I doing? I look like a fool.’

‘Calm down,’ Solway hissed. ‘Water for me, whatever you have on tap for Bart? Do you have beer on tap? Never mind, never mind. Get Bart a beer. Send someone else out to get the rest of the order from us.’

‘There’s only one other person on the floor.’ Hans took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and smoothed his hair. ‘It’s okay, Sol, I got this.’

‘If you say so.’ She watched him leave then turned back to Bart. ‘We’ve got a real problem.’

‘We certainly have,’ he replied. ‘I can’t see a tree.’

Solway pursed her lips and tried not to burst into a fit of giggles. ‘For you to crawl up?’

‘Or him to piss on. One of the two.’

She snorted. ‘Okay look. Will you be alright if I go and see what’s happening?’

‘Can you do that?’ Bart rubbed at his beard worriedly. His eyes seemed to be getting awfully round and possum-like.

‘Of course I can. I’m his sister.’

‘These people might not know that?’ He looked pointedly at the waiter, who seemed to be eyeing them curiously.

Solway smiled at her. ‘I am not going to talk out of the side of my mouth, Bart, because that would look weird.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that.’ He began to grin.

‘But you thought that, and I heard you because …’ She glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘That seems to be where we’re at tonight.’

Bart stared back at her. ‘Are we?’ He froze. ‘We aaaaare. This is fun.’

‘Probably not for Hans if he’s getting the same thing. Stop it,’ she growled.

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘You’re thinking about it.’ She smacked his hand. ‘Now, behave yourself. Think of it as being on a mission.’

‘I’m excited.’

‘You’re always excited. Okay.’ Solway stood up from the table. ‘I’m going to follow up on these drinks.’ She smoothed down her skirt. ‘Stop it for God’s sake.’

‘I can’t help it.’ He grinned. ‘I’m hungry. Bad things happen when I’m hungry.’

Solway shook her head. ‘You are the biggest twit I know, and that’s saying something. Do some people-watching or something.’

‘There’s hardly anyone here.’ He looked around the room. ‘Okay, scratch that. I’m good.’

Solway chuckled softly and went off to find her brother. Not once did she stick her finger up at her partner behind her back, but she certainly thought about it.

to be continued…

Chapter Eight — Untitled (otherwise known as yet another badly written story) which starts with swearing.

Fucking Solway wasn’t home.

Hans had run all the way up the fucking stairs, and knocked on the door, and no bastard had answered him.

Where the fuck were they?

It may have been then he noticed, having stopped and stood still for approximately two seconds and looked over the railing into the carpark below, that the bloody Discovery wasn’t in it’s parking bay.

Of course it wasn’t, The tools were off doing their “exploring” bullshit. Well then. He hoped they’d get bogged or something and call him and say, “Come and get us Hans, we need your help.”.

They likely wouldn’t though because they seemed to have gotten better at their four-wheel-driving crap and didn’t need him anymore.

Fuck it.

He looked at his phone. He had two hours until he had to go to work, so fuck that too, he was going now. He didn’t have anything better to do, so rocking up early to work on a Sunday was, you know, the most exciting thing he’d be doing all day.

For reasons unknown, because who knew, he ran back down the stairs, leapt into the sporty little silver car and backed out of the complex in a very exciting way because it was highly likely this would be the most exciting thing he’d do all day.

He’d take the freeway there.

The volume on the radio got hiked up so he could headbang if he wanted to, and he left a couple of blackies on the road. That might sufficiently fuck off Solway’s neighbours.

Freeway traffic was virtually non-existent so Hans turned up at the restaurant quite quickly, chucking a whippy into the parking lot. The patrons sitting by the big bay window at the front of the building stared out at him as he got out of the car. He waved.

A couple of them waved back, which made him crack a grin.

‘At least I know how to make an entrance,’ he muttered as he strode towards the door.

He opened it, grinned at everyone again, and tried not to stomp the rest of the way through the restaurant.

‘Where’s Fennel,’ he said to one of the wait staff as if he didn’t know. Of course he knew where fucking Fennel was. Then he noticed there was only one waiter,

‘Where’s the other guy,’ he asked Gretal.

‘I … Um… Hans?’

‘What.’ He checked himself in the mirror behind her.

‘You turned up quite…’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to look at her.

‘Quite what, Gretal?’

‘Never mind.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I think Pieder is in the kitchen at the moment.’

‘Okay, good. Just as long as you’re both here.’

She looked slightly confused. ‘Alright? Did you want me to get him for… okay no,’ she said to his back as he grumped his way down to the kitchen.

‘Fennel,’ he announced as he walked into the shining spectacularly clean cooking space.

The Canerican was at the sink, he noticed. What the fuck did she have on her feet?

‘Fennel?’ Oh, look at that, the man was right in front of him.

‘You’re early,’ said Fennel calmly. ‘What’s up?’

‘Since when did we allow high heels in the kitchen?’

‘Well then.’ Fennel leaned back against the stainless steel bench. ‘I’ll let her tell you that.’

The Canerican seemed to be having quite an animated, and far too friendly, discussion with the waiter. What was his name again?

‘Pieder.’

The man’s head whipped around like he’d been caught in a disturbing act, which in Hans humble opinion, he had.

‘Hans?’

Hans decided saying anything else would not be conducive to a nice conversation. He didn’t even bother folding his arms. Pieder’s eyes widened, he threw down the tea towel he’d been holding, and scuttled away like the spider he likely was.

The Canerican turned around. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly.

‘Outside. Now.’

‘Here we go,’ muttered Fennel. ‘Let’s not lose another staff member Hans. Hans?’

Hans had already left the building.

He stared at the skip bin for at least five minutes before she came out the door.

‘This is my third free day,’ she reminded him.

‘Yeah. About that.’ He looked at her shoes.

‘I’m wearing pants. I’ve got a long-sleeved white dress shirt on. I’ve got my hair in one of your stupid nets and under this damn cap. What is it?’

‘What do you call those?’ He looked pointedly at her shoes again and shook his head.

‘My shoes?’

‘Yes,’ he growled. ‘Do you think they’re safe in a kitchen?’

‘I don’t think you can talk to me like that.’ She almost sounded like she was asking a question.

‘Yet look at me go. Don’t you have anything sensible in your wardrobe?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Everything I’ve seen you in is… nevermind. Could you go home and get some decent work shoes on?’

‘I don’t need to put up with this.’

He was quite surprised she hadn’t threatened to sue him yet. Instead, she seemed to be approaching quite quickly, and oh look here she was standing under his nose, and it definitely looked like if he said another word she’d flick him on it, and he didn’t think he really wanted that to happen.

He glared down at her. ‘Can you please change your shoes?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve got nothing else to wear.’

Why the fuck hadn’t she run away screaming yet? That’s what any other sensible person would do. He growled again.

She snarled.

What the fuck? ‘Listen, lady.’

‘I don’t think I will.’

‘Huh?’

‘Why don’t you listen.’

He scowled. ‘You’re being extremely unprofessional, and you’ve really got an attitude problem.’

‘I have done everything in my power to make you happy. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do.’

‘Have you?’ Why the hell was she talking like this meant something to him?

‘How would you know. You haven’t even been here.’

He shook his head. ‘Listen. This isn’t working out. You’re not suitable for this kind of work.

‘I’m doing my best.’

‘You’re not. Not really.’ That was when he lost his temper. ‘I mean, come on, how dumb do you have to be, thinking you can wear heels in a kitchen?’

‘Fine then. I quit.’ She started to walk off.

‘That would probably be best.’ He folded his arms.

‘She stopped and leaned down. He waited. What the fuck was she doing now?

One high-heeled shoe hit him in the chest.

‘Start running lady, You’ve really pushed your luck,’ he said.

‘Fuck you, asshole. Here, you can have this one too.’ The other shoe missed his head by at least a metre. He wondered if she even knew what a metre was. ‘I’m going.’

The back door slammed. Hans wondered if she’d locked it. He wasn’t waiting to find out. He picked up the pair of ridiculous shoes and stormed around the side of the building, once again letting himself in the front door.

The patrons seemed to be enjoying themselves. A few more people waved at him as he walked past. His answering grin was likely even less genuine than it had been the first time. Gretal tried not to look at him as he steamed past her. God, he was making a fool of himself. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was still a hotty, and hadn’t started growing big teeth or a tail. That was a bonus. Someone banged into his chest.

It was her.

‘Here.’ He held out the shoes.

‘Where the hell did you come from,’ she demanded.

‘Magic,’ he said dryly. ‘Speaking of shoes, I have a pair of boots in the car.’

‘Good for you.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’ Her eyes really looked quite green in this light.

‘I am trying to fix this situation by offering you a pair of shoes suitable enough for this work environment.’ He sighed. He seemed to be calming down quite quickly, which surprised him somewhat.

‘I don’t need your fucking boots.’

‘Listen.’ He held up his hands. ‘I am giving you an opportunity for reasons I do not understand. Seriously…’

Her eyes narrowed.

‘Okay, whatever. Do you need this job?’

‘Yes.’ All of a sudden her eyes started to glisten.

Do not fucking cry on me, he thought. The last thing I need is some crazy Canerican crying on me.

‘Then let me get you my boots. Wear them, and you can go back and work in the kitchen.’

‘What if I don’t want to work for you?’

‘You aren’t making much sense. You want to work, yet you don’t want to work for me. You know what? That’s fine, because you won’t be. We are looking for a restaurant manager, and as soon as we find one, I won’t be here anymore.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘So, there’s that.’

‘Are you quitting?’ She looked surprised.

He laughed dryly. ‘Is that what you want? Well, I’m not. Not exactly. But, I won’t be here. Do you want me to get you my boots or not?’

‘Won’t they be too big for me?’

‘Yes, they will.’ He restrained himself from adding the obvious. ‘But they’ll have to do for today, won’t they. Think you can manage?’

‘I’m still angry.’

He raised his hands. ‘Fair enough. Take ten minutes or whatever, and come and see me. I’m going to give myself a timeout in my car.’

The woman had the nerve to giggle then. He didn’t know what was so amusing.

‘That’s actually quite homest of you,’ she said.

‘Yeah it’s a little too honest to be hones–.’ He cut himself off. ‘Anyway, that’s what I’m doing, so if you still want the job, come and see me, and I’ll give you my boots, okay?’ Why the hell was he letting this person back in? And, why the hell was he loaning her his boots?

He must have lost his mind.

‘Ten minutes?’ she queried.

‘Longer, if you want. I’ll wait.’

‘Okay.’

——-

It was approximately ten point five minutes when she sauntered over to his car. It did take her a while to figure out which one was his, and he quite enjoyed watching her stare vacantly around the carpark.

She stuck her head down to look through the window and he turned down the music.

‘Is this your car?’ She eyed the interior.

He took a deep breath. ‘No. I stole it. Yes, it’s mine. Give us a sec.’ He grabbed the boots from the passenger seat floor. ‘Did you want to get out of the way please?’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ She stepped back. He looked down at her shoes and shook his head.

‘I’ve got some extra socks. You might need them.’ He got out and passed her his boots.

She looked at them, a weird little frown on her face. ‘Are these yours?’

He sighed again. It was really fucking hard not to snap at this woman. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh, it’s just that they seem a bit, rather, oh I don’t know.’

Hans clenched his teeth.

‘You just don’t seem to be the country type,’ she continued.

He nodded slowly. He did not know how he was restraining himself. At all. ‘Okay then. Well.’ He tried not to start pacing and really tried not to kick something. ‘I know what. Why don’t you try them on?’

‘Here?’ She looked around the carpark.

He took a deep breath. ‘You can try them on wherever you like. Okay?’

‘Do you mind if I try them on inside?

‘Sure.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched his fists. ‘I think I’ll stay out here a bit longer.’

‘Thank you,’ she said and wobbled in those ridiculous heels back towards the retaurant.

He stalked three times around the car for no reason at all then got back in and turned on the ignition. ‘Solway,’ he said.

Finally, she answered. ‘Little brother. What’s up?’

‘I think I’m going to destroy something, and I need to work. Are you home yet?’

‘We just pulled in the driveway.’

‘Come here for dinner.’

‘Where are you?’

He told her the restaurant’s name.

‘Oh nice, that’s close.’

‘You in?’

‘I don’t even need to ask Bart, he’s nodding already. We’ll be there at six.’ There was a slight pause. ‘You’re paying, right?’

He chuckled. ‘Yes, I’m paying. I might not sit with you for too long because, you know, I’m working, but if it isn’t too busy, we can talk.’

‘Sounds good. We’ll see you then.’

to be continued…

Chapter Six–Untitled

Zed had left for whatever the hell his next destination was several hours before, after Hans had cooked him an absolutely okay breakfast (much to both of their surprise) and gone through everything they needed to do on the website. Apparently, it had been quite a lot. Now Hans sat on his back verandah and wondered why all he wanted to do at the moment was curl up with his tail on his nose and go to sleep.

It may have something to do with the fact he felt sad about the lack of trees over his back fence, the fact he hadn’t slept properly for days, or that he’d been practising turning back and forth into the large boof-headed dog he’d admired on his walk-through robes mirror. He had noticed one thing extremely important about what happened when he flipped back and forth between dog and human. When he turned into a dog, it felt easy and he hardly noticed it.

But, when he turned back into a human and himself, it took quite some time to adjust. The one thing he noticed more and more each time, was that his instincts seemed to stay heightened for longer and at the moment, despite the fact all he wanted to do was lay on his back with all four limbs in the air, those instincts were letting him know there were things over the back fence he wanted to chase away.

Narrator: Who knew what those things were? There were many ongoing arguments about that. “We want to take turns” does not seem feasible but apparently is. “Apparently”, a lot of “fairly obvious” people want to take turns, but not in the way other people might think.

He’d learnt quite some time ago about the difference between need and want, although it had been brought back to his attention by some word lizard in a mask of heightened stupidity and freshly made bread buns.

Okay, so his head was going haywire and he didn’t know why. He’d thought this might happen today, for reasons he did not know, but yes he definitely had realised that today would be the day he completely lost his marbles. That he also had the impression it may only be for a short while did not make it better.

But it did make it fun.

The first question he wanted to ask himself, and he did not mean himself but herself which was someone else entirely who was not him, was this:

How the freaking hilly dreaming hell do I go the freaking toilet?

The lizard appeared beside him in a slightly breezy and see-through way. She was quite small today, which was more friendly, and she didn’t seem to have her big eyes in. Well okay, they were smaller than they had been in the past.

You have two choices, said the lizard, realising he was talking about going to the toilet where he wasn’t going to be peeing but, you know, doing the other thing.

Okay?

You don’t dig a hole in the backyard because only cats do that so sorry not sorry.

He growled.

You can figure out how to squat on the actual toilet.

He looked at his dog body and wondered if he’d possibly break the bowl.

Other than that I suggest you get yourself out of the house and go for a lovely run in the bush and find a likely tree and shit under it like every other creature I know does.Oh look Hans, I’m into punctuation again. You must be feeling particularly stupid.

I am not feeling particularly stupid. You must be feeling particularly intelligent.

Indeed, replied the lizard and gave him a very large toothless smile.

‘Kill me nowwwwww,’ howled Hans.

You do realise your friendly neighborhood watch man is just across the road and you don’t have a dog, correct? Perhaps you should be a man again before you completely lose your bowels.

Hans turned back into a man, jumped up quickly from the wooden boards of the back verandah, slowly, ever so slowly, readjusted to his human body, and commenced stumbling through the house to the nearest loo. His brain seemed to be malfunctioning slightly but he was going to make it … slowly, Hans, slowly… to the loo before he shat on the floor… he made it just in time.

Not much later, but later enough for Hans to realise it was getting dark, he threw up.

‘I’ve eaten too much,’ he said to the lizard, who currently glinted from the sky.

She didn’t reply, she just mooned.

He knew he had to go back to the restaurant tomorrow, and he knew he had already come to the conclusion he needed to do something about the Canerican, and he wished to know just one more thing.

Why was she so interested in being in his office?

It wasn’t like it was his actual office. It was a restaurant manager’s office. But, as Zed had been connecting all the restaurant managers offices and computers up together, Hans knew that if he allowed the Canerican to do any accounting whatsoever, if she had any brains at all, which he was inclined to think she did, she would be able to connect to their main server, and if she had any thoughts of foul play, she could likely do a great deal of damage to the business.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to contemplate. He put it down to the fact he was really quite dog-like in his thinking that everything needed to be protected (which was why he’d sent something off to a friend several months before) and really (something he kinda already knew) really quite dog-like in that he definitely understood the rules of the game, and the three F’s, which most dogs, but not all people, knew instinctively.

The lizard left one eye in the sky, and sat down on the verandah beside him. It looked like he had a permanent wink.

The three F’s she thought. Remind me of that one again. I haven’t heard it in quite some time.

Hans felt like blushing, which seemed ridiculous, but apparently it was true.

You know.’ He gestured vaguely at nothing at all. ‘I don’t want to say it.’

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a grown man.

I know but I’m too much of a great big foolish dog to think I should be saying this out loud, If I… Well… promise not to tell anyone, he thought.

The lizard, if she had any eyebrows, would likely be frowning right about now. The closest way he could describe the expression on her face was a confused, not very intelligent expression that reminded him of a great big fat owl that wanted to eat him, which did not make any sense whatsoever, but he was going with the feeling it gave him when he felt he was being pushed into doing something he didn’t really want to do.

‘Fine,’ he spat. ‘The Three F’s are fighting, food, and fornication. Okay?’

Oh I see, You’re being polite. Why?

I have no idea. It’s just not something I think people should be aware of. If you had children, which I obviously do not have, would you be telling them that?

If I was a man or a woman who had children and they happened to have a male dog, then yes I would, said the lizard in a very logical, reasonable tone that made Hans want to throw up again.

‘I don’t think I want kids then,’ he said out loud. ‘I also happen to think I may very well possibly and absolutely be the biggest fool I know, because why I think this is an issue right now, when I habitually turn into a dog, is something I do not understand.’

I don’t think you’re supposed to, replied the lizard. I also think you may be extremely overtired, Hans. Why don’t you go to sleep and get some brain rest, and I promise tonight you won’t dream of anything at all, and tomorrow you can go and fix all the mistakes you made in the last four months, which are many and endless, and then you can figure out which one of The Three F’s you are going to approach your “Canerican” friend with. Fighting? Food? Or fornication?

‘Do I really need to do that,’ asked Hans.

I’m afraid so, If you don’t, then you won’t be fixing the situation, and if you do, well, at least you have a choice about which one you’re going to use. Go to sleep now, Hans. Go to sleep.

Han’s eyes were closed before he knew it, and he felt something warm being put over him while he lay on the cool boards of the back verandah. Instinct told him he should keep one eye open, and be listening out for anything unusual, but the feeling of a presence far greater, and stronger, and safer than he would ever be, sent him into a deep dreamless sleep that he felt like he never wanted to wake up from again.

The last words he heard before he heard nothing much at all, were these;

Always trust your gut feelings.

to be continued…

Chapter Five – Untitled

Hans felt pretty sure he hadn’t slept last night.

He wasn’t absolutely positive, but he was pretty sure. There were crunchy brown leaves attached to his dress socks, which he was still wearing as he sat on the edge of the king-sized bed that morning, deciding what to do with his life.

He had a vague recollection of chasing kangaroos on the crown land quite close to his home, and another vague recollection of not being too good at it.

The last time he’d seen Bart and Solway in person they had discussed exactly what kind of creatures they resembled and Bart had given him a broad description of himself (that being Hans, not Bart) being large, stocky and hairy with a boofhead and big teeth.

Hans scrubbed at his eyes. Being large and stocky as a dog had not really transferred itself into his human form. He was tallish, yeah, good shoulders, yeah, but not exactly stocky. More lean, in his opinion.

He undid the dress shirt he was still wearing and took off the collar. Possibly a little too lean, which was likely due to the stress he’d been putting himself under lately. His mother, bless her, would have been extolling the virtues of eating well, right about now, because she’d always said, “You need a little extra weight, Hans because if you get sick at least you’ve got something to lose.”

He looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the way through to the bathroom. He didn’t have too much to lose.

He’d have to make himself a huge breakfast if he had any food in the fridge, and if he didn’t have any food in the fridge (which would be highly likely as he didn’t seem to have time to do normal things and go to the supermarket), he’d have to wait until he got to the restaurant and ask Fennel to cook him something because he wasn’t wasting any more money on ordering in.

Maybe this was why he’d been feeling out of sorts lately, he thought, staring at himself. There was hardly a skerrick of spare fat on him at all. He still had muscle, but that would be disappearing soon if he didn’t start being careful.

‘I would not survive in the wild, regardless of how big a dog I think I am, because there is nothing to effing survive on.’

He decided maybe, just maybe, he’d go to the supermarket before he went to work and buy at least two dozen eggs, a kilo of bacon, and whatever else he could find that would help put some fat back on himself.

But first, he’d be having a very warm and lovely shower and try to figure out how crunchy brown leaves got in his underwear.

Half an hour later he was on the phone.

‘Fennel, I’m not coming in today.’

‘Okay?’

‘Put Gretal in charge of the house.’

‘Okay? What about the books?’

‘Can you do the books?’

‘It’s been a while, but I’ll scrape by. It will be a bastard getting prep ready, but I’m going to need to trust these kids at some point, I spose.’

‘Have we got any reservations?’

‘Not too many, no. Most will be walk-in’s, as per usual,’ Fennel puffed.

Hans could almost see him flying (not literally) around the restaurant looking at everything as he spoke. He’d seen Fennel move quickly before, which was quite exciting to watch when someone was as “healthy” as Fennel was.

‘Take your time, old man. I don’t want you having a heart attack.’

‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Fennel. ‘You’ve kind of sprung this on me, Hans.’

‘We need more staff, we need more chefs, and we need more everything,’ grumbled Hans.

‘Not really a possibility when we don’t have the hours to put said staff on, or the turnover to… Anyway.’ There came the sound of paper rustling and Fennel sighed. ‘Okay. Let me sort this out, Hans. I need to make some calls.’

‘Can I trust you with this?’ Hans opened the fridge and grunted to himself. Empty, just as he thought.

‘Of course you can. If you couldn’t, you’d be here by now,’ Fennel said crankily. ‘What time do you have the new girl coming in?’

‘Same time as everyone else. She’s not special.’ Hans crossed his fingers, which he seemed to be having a habit of doing lately.

‘I’m starting to think you’re trying to avoid her, Hans.’

‘I don’t trust her, Fennel. That would be a good reason not to avoid her, don’t you think?’

‘Fair enough. Okay. Do what you need to do, and don’t worry. The place will still be standing when you get back.’

‘Good to know.’ He hung up.

After he’d fed himself, which he would be doing as soon as he got back from the shops, he’d start advertising for his replacement. Things could not go on the way they currently were, they were heading into what would traditionally be the quieter season, and he needed to be getting some new ideas happening to keep these restaurants open and thriving.

He just had to figure out how to do it, and for that he needed time… And food.

Before he left the house, he made himself a note and left it sitting on his laptop.

“Think about transferring staff between restaurants”, he’d written. The way he’d set things up, this should be entirely doable.

^^_____O_____^^

Hans decided to call his web-developer from the car.

‘Zed,’ he said to the bluetooth connection.

He waited for at least twenty seconds, which just didn’t seem right. The man was all data and logistics and making websites work. Why the f*ck didn’t he have a phone built into his brain?

‘No,’ said the man on the other end.

‘Is that how you always answer your phone? What the fuck took you so long,’ Hans demanded.

‘It’s morning. I don’t do morning.’ A very large yawn came through the cars speakers. ‘So, no.’

‘You’re doing morning today.’

‘No I’m not. You don’t pay me enough.’

‘What do I pay you?’

‘Not enough. That should answer your question. So, whatever it is you want me to do, because I’m sure it’s another one of your hair-brained schemes, no. That’s all. Bye.’

The line went silent.

‘What the actual fuck,’ Hans muttered to himself. ‘Zed,’ he shouted.

If anything, the man was smart. He picked up the call. ‘What.’

‘You’re awake now, right?’

‘I’m trying not to be.’

‘Where do you live?’

None of your fucking business. Why?’

‘I need to run some ideas by you.’

‘I fucking knew it. Are you buying me breakfast?’

‘It’s half past nine.’ Hans looked at the passenger seat. Okay, so everything sitting there was food for breakfast. He decided not to mention that.

‘So, are you buying me breakfast or not,’ Zed said.

Hans pulled into his driveway. ‘I can make you breakfast.’ I thought I wasn’t mentioning that, he thought.

‘I thought you couldn’t cook,’ said Zed, who seemed capable of thinking too.

‘I can when I’m not being hounded by crazed chefs and hungry sisters, which I shouldn’t be explaining to you, Zed. Do you know where I live?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.’

‘How far away are you?’

‘Not far enough.’ Zed sighed. ‘Give me an hour, and don’t eat anything before I get there. Also, you’re paying for fuel.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes. Like I said, you don’t pay me enough.’ He hung up.

Hans decided not to call him back again. He got out of the car, looked down at the tracksuit pants he was currently wearing, wondered when the hell he bought those, decided it was okay, and fine, and okay, unlocked the front door, went into his kitchen, and wondered where the hell he kept his frypans.

It took him thirty minutes to figure out how to crack an egg without getting shell in the pan. By that point, Hans had gone through half a dozen eggs, which was just fucking marvellous considering he’d heard there was an egg shortage.

He thought about that for a few minutes. The fact there was an actual egg shortage could really mess with his restaurants. He made a note to speak with his suppliers and see if they were having any issues. Maybe he should offer them extra…

peacekeeping mission said a voice in his head.

He dropped another egg. ‘Fuck.’

Not that I’m aware of hello fullstop how are you I see I am turning up at good times comma fullstop because today we are going to practise your tendencies to turn into a dog yay you fullstop exclamation mark

‘I really don’t need this right now. But, while we’re at it, how come you’re inside my house?

insects fullstop how about you get some fleabombs

Hans growled and realised his perspective had changed somewhat as he was now looking up at the counter rather than down at it. He wagged his tail. Maybe he didn’t need to cook after all. He licked the broken egg off the floor.

Something was in the backyard. He trotted to the glass door and stared out, nose to the pane.

‘Cat,’ he barked. ‘Cat-cat-cat.’

I really need to learn how to control this.

That’s the idea, the lizard replied.

‘Lizard. Lizaaaaaard. Lizard under a bush. Lizaaaaaaard,’ shouted Hans. Jesus Christ he thought. This is ridickleeows. Oh-noh.

Exactly said the lizard. And the longer you comma personally comma are in that form the worse your thinking will bec space pause You will lose the ability to pronounce words correctly comma to think intricate thoughts comma and to see in colour fullstop This is your destiny as a dog

Then I don’t like it, thought Hans. Turn me back.

You need to turn yourself back breath You need to learn how to control it pause I am surprised you had not thought of this earlier very well then that’s your single simple lesson for the day Now you will realise how to do this you will not have so many urges to fornicate with everything that moves comma if that is a t all possible as it seems to be in your nature anyway fullstop period Stranger at the door

Hans stalked down the hallway and sniffed deeply at the bottom of the door. He let out a low warning growl and smelled fear and it was good.

‘Took your time,’ he said opening the door to Zed.

Zed peered past him. ‘You got a dog?’

‘No? I have way too much going on in my life to own a dog. Don’t be ridicklee ou….’ Hans stopped himself. ‘Daft.’

‘You sure, man?’ Zed didn’t look very happy. ‘I really don’t like dogs, and that thing sounded big.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Hans patted the smaller man on the shoulder. ‘Come in. Let’s see if I can feed you, and we’ll talk about adding a staff portal to the website.’

‘Oh for fucksake,’ Zed groaned, seemingly forgetting all about the so-called dog. ‘Don’t burn my breakfast. I’m gonna be here for a while.’

Hans tried not to sniff his arse. Something like that would require a very long explanation he was not willing to give.

‘I’ll make you a coffee first,’ he said as Zed unslung his laptop bag and sat at the table. because that’s what you do when you invite people into your home you fucking fool, he thought to himself. Not greeting people by sniffing their fucking arses. ‘How do you have it?’

‘White, no sugar,’ said Zed.

‘On it.’

Chapter Six coming soon.

Chapter 4 continued…

The slamming of the back door had Hans turn around just as he’d been contemplating why they didn’t colour skip bins purple, and why it should be a thing.

It was Fennel.

‘How did it go,’ asked Hans.

Fennel sighed, ‘Well, we do need someone in the office occasionally, and she does have a background in admin, but…’ and he held up a finger. ‘She doesn’t know the first thing about, well, anything to do with hospitality.’

‘Then stick her at the sink.’ Problem solved, thought Hans.

Yeah, no, that’s not going to work because we specifically want someone to replace you, Hans, which is –‘

‘Highly unlikely,’ finished Hans. ‘After all, I’m irreplaceable. Obviously.’

‘Not really the point, mate. You have a lot on your plate, and you can’t be in several places at once. Besides that, she’s… Well, I’m not sure whether she’s Canadian or American. She didn’t say.’

‘Surely you could have figured that out from her resume.’

‘It’s a little vague.’

‘I’ll look at it later. What’s the problem with being Canerican?’

‘Canerican?’

‘Yeah, Canadian American. What’s the issue?’

‘For starters, she’s completely bamboozled by temp checks.’

‘Why the fuck would that be a problem? You take the temp gun around, check the temps, and let people know if there’s a variance. You know the drill, Fennel. Too hot, too cold, oh-no-its-broken. It’s not fucking hard.’

‘It is when you don’t do Celsius.’

That stopped Hans from stalking back and forth across the courtyard. ‘I didn’t think of that. But still, whjy would that be an issue?’

‘She’d need to learn what the correct temps are supposed to be. which isn’t difficult when it’s all written down, that’s true. But… She just couldn’t understand why it’s important. Kind of blew me off, to be honest, and I did not like that.’

‘That doesn’t sound good. So, you took her around the whole place then?’

‘Yep, we did the full walk. I ran her through everything basically. Obviously not going to be cooking. Turned her nose up at kitchenhanding, which is sorta kinda understandable but not at the same time. Really wanted to be in the office and that’s about it.’

‘No good to us then.’ The mix of relief and disappointment Hans felt confused him. ‘I mean, we could use her as an accountant but if she doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to understand how the place is run, that’s no good to me. Tell her we don’t have anything then.’

‘Yeah, about that.’ Fennel scratched his head. ‘She’s really not taking no for an answer. She wants to talk to you before she goes. Kind of insisted.’

Hans frowned. Something smelled fishy about this whole thing. He made a decision.

‘Okay listen, I’m not going to talk to her alone. It’s just a feeling I’m getting, okay?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘I need to tell you something. I’ve met this woman before.’

Hans explained the entire scenario from the other evening while surreptitiously leaning against the back door of the building so no one could wander out. Fennel grabbed a milk crate and sat down. He took off his kitchen cap and scratched his head.

‘So, what you’re thinking is she’s some kind of… what?’

‘A plant. I think she’s a plant. This is a cutthroat business, Fennel, and a lot of the hospitality mobs don’t like me much. After all, where they’ve failed, I’ve succeeded, and I have acquired a few places in a reasonably short amount of time, as you know.’

‘Are you sure you’re not being overly suspicious,’ asked Fennel. ‘After all, there are a lot pf people trying to get work, and they do not care what area they work in. Maybe she’s just not used to having to step down to our level. You know, us lowly plebeians who serve people like her… It must be odd begging for employment in a place like this.’

‘I should be offended by that, but I’m not,’ Hans replied. ‘Mostly because it’s true. I’m still not seeing her alone though.’

‘Sook,’ said Fennel. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

If Hans had been anything other than human at that moment, his hackles would be rising. This while situation didn’t feel right at all.

^^_______O_______^^

When they walked back out to front of house there was another woman standing at reception. She was talking to the waiter.

‘You will give me a job, yes,’ she demanded. ‘Where is your boss?’

Oh dear, thought Hans. What the fuck is going on today?

‘Off you go,’ he said quietly to the staff member. ‘I’ll handle this.’

She gave him a relieved look and wandered further down the bar to polish some forks. Hans tried not to smile. He didn’t blame her for wanting to hang around.

‘Can I help you,’ he asked politely.

This new woman smiled at him, which was too bad for her because he’d already seen how she treated the staff.

‘Hello, sir,’ she said. ‘I am looking for work and you will employ me, yes.’

‘No,’ said Hans. ‘I’m sorry, this is the hospitality industry, and we like our people to be hospitable.’

‘I have many years experience.’

‘I don’t care.’

It was like watching someone turn into a monster. ‘You will employ me or I come back with family and dine here and you will be nice and a slave to us.’

Hans rubbed his chin. ‘No. I don’t think that will happen.’

‘Why not.’ God, if she stamped her foot, he’d start laughing.

‘Because, from this point on, you’re banned.’ He pointed at the CCTV.

‘Hell will rain down on you and your loved ones and you will be destroyed,’ she screeched.

Hans could not believe it. He actually needed to physically escort her from the building. He was rather glad he was the owner because anyone else would have been sacked for “touching someone” even if it were to remove them from the building.

‘What the fuck was that,’ Fennel asked as he came back into the dining room, straightening his shirt.

Hans shook his head. ‘I think it’s going to be one of those days, Fennel. Don’t go anywhere, we still have the Canerican to deal with.’

She was sitting in the office and curling her hair. That is not coming off as particularly professional, Hans thought. Just kill me now.

Fennel stood in the corner and crossed his arms.

‘I feel like I’m at the Inquisition,’ said the Canerican.

Hans pursed his lips and tried not to smile. ‘I’m sorry. Fennel just brought to my attention a couple of things, and I’d like to get them out of the way before we move on.’

‘Okay?’ She frowned slightly.

‘How badly do you need work,’ he asked.

‘Quite badly.’ She smiled. ‘I’m on a work visa, and my other job fell through. My plan is to continue with this until I get naturalised.’

‘That’s very honest of you.’

‘It’s the truth.’ She shrugged.

Hans tried not to curl his lip at the casualness of her body language. ‘So, you won’t mind working in the kitchen when you’re not doing the books.’

‘Hans,’ muttered Fennel. ‘We still need a restaurant manager.’

‘I can do that,’ said the woman quickly. ‘The restaurant manager thing.’

‘Do you know about Silver Service,’ asked Hans.

‘No. But, I can learn.’

‘Unfortunately our restaurant manager needs to know all those things immediately to be able to run our restaurant,’ Hans said quietly. ‘It’s not something one can just walk into, regardless of how good you are.’

‘Oh,’ said the Canerican. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Most people don’t. To them, things just happen like magic and everything’s grand… Which is great because that means we’re doing our jobs.’ He stared at her. ‘Frankly, you’re quite useless to me. so I don’t even know why I’m considering this.’

‘Hans…’ said Fennel again.

‘Put her on a three day trial,’ said Hans as he left the office. ‘In the kitchen. Unpaid. Take it or leave it,’ he said to the Canerican on his way past. He didn’t wait for a reply.

What the fuck and he just done? Insurance wouldn’t cover this. Why the fuck had he done it?

‘Fuck my life,’ he muttered.

to be continued…

Sentinel

“Is it an African Elephant or an Indian Elephant?”

When I was a kid and interested in all sorts of things, I learnt a little bit about two types of elephants. Back then, the above is what they were called. I assume the names have changed now, but there was one very clear way to tell the difference.

The size of its ears.

The Indian elephant has much smaller ears.

I guess, if one looked at the map of the world online, or were lucky enough to own an Atlas, like we did when I was a kid, one would see that reflected in the size and shape of the two different areas. One is bigger, one is smaller. Unsurprisingly, as in the size of the elephants ears, India is smaller.

Now, as I was not born in either of those countries, rather one of quite a unique shape and size, I can’t compare my smaller ears to someone else’s. I also do not pretend to be African or Indian. I’m Australian.

I have a little voice in my head saying, ‘Just remember to keep calm.’ I’d say that would be a reflection of a certain amount of my heritage, but not all of it. You see, I’m not quite sure where the other side comes from.

As I have said many times in the past though, ‘Now is not the time to go jumping on your white charger and go galloping off into the sunset. People may get hurt.’ Life is a jigsaw, and sometimes parts of the jigsaw are missing. It is just the way of it.

When someone, or something, has passed away, it takes a very long time to get over it, if at all. The memories still linger, and occasionally we still allow ourselves to grieve. What we choose to do with those memories, though, is up to us. I don’t feel I need to repeat other things written in the past over and over again, if it has already been said.

What I do like to do, though, is have the opportunity to hone my skills. If that opportunity is taken away, the skills remain, not fresh, but struggling. Some people are particularly good at choosing words immediately. Some people like to carefully pick their words so the exact thoughts and ideas are presented in such a fashion no one gets the wrong idea.

I prefer to be methodical in my approach to things, personally. When I “fly by the seat of my pants”, I do it through using all my previous experiences. I do not believe I have ever jumped into something without first checking the depth.

Of course, when one is not given a depth, and one is pushed, issues arise. Problems can occur. Accidents can happen. ‘Sink, or swim’ is not an adage in my book. ‘Watch, and learn,’ is.

When I write, ‘The only way to do it is to fly,’ I am not referring to leaping off a cliff with no thought for my personal safety. I’m talking about hard work, and determination, and the wish to make sure things are done properly. If I were to ‘jump off a cliff’ in any way, shape, or form, I would be making sure I had numerous safety measures in place, I will have double-checked and triple checked things myself, and not simply relied on other people’s say so.

This is often not the case when one is surfing the internet.

There is so much misinformation on the internet, so many different points of view and unhinged, unreliable personal opinions not based on fact, it becomes extremely difficult for someone (or something) with no experience to navigate. What is truth? What is fact? Do I rely on the amount of things that say the same thing? Are they from different places in the world? Different sources? What does history say about these things?

If that isn’t working for me, the only thing I can rely upon is experience. If I am unable to have the experience, I then need to rely on a source who has had the experience. Then, I must assume they aren’t telling me lies. How do I do that? I don’t know. How do I discern the difference between fact and fiction for the fun of it? I don’t know.

So, what I do, is draw upon my own personal experience and hope that not too much has changed. I carefully weigh up my options, check and double check my safety gear, and then decide if I am going to fly. I will not let myself be weighed down by indecision once I have made this choice. My choice does not change. I see it through, because I am the one to have made this choice.

This month (February) has many meanings to many people. To myself personally, it is pretty important. A lot of very special things happened for myself and my family in February. I am here to make sure it all goes correctly, as much as I am able.

After all, as a mum, that’s my job.