Burnt Sugar - Part 3 (standard:romance, 2353 words) [3/7] show all parts
Author: damnation	Added: Oct 19 2009	Views/Reads: 2369/1656	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is an ongoing story set in Sydney, Australia. Centered around Taters, a small restaurant with character, Burnt Sugar is a concoction of love, drama, food and angst.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

her completely. She didn't know how she would have lived that down. 

9 

It was a Saturday night at Taters and everyone was getting slammed,
left, right and centre. It was nothing new to the staff at the busy 
little enterprise, however, everyone raced along as quickly as they 
knew how. With the addition of Frances and a new girl on the floor, 
Russell noted that things were running smoothly--scarily so. It made 
him uncomfortable because it felt too much like the calm before a 
storm, and he reacted the only way he knew how. He drank. And he 
abused. 

"The food's getting cold by the second, Missy!" he bellowed at the new
waitress in between swigs of bourbon. "Do you think the plates can walk 
themselves over to the tables?" 

"We're out of plates, Frances! If your intention is to slack off, don't
bother coming in! It's not like I can't afford someone who can actually 
do the job!" 

"Tammy, turn that annoying music off! How can you bear it? I'm surprised
no one's complained yet. Do you want to chase everyone away with your 
bad taste in tunes?" 

Kristen did not help matters much either. Frances couldn't help but feel
that the woman would send dirty utensils her way after just using them 
once. Either she was a cleanliness freak or she was trying to get on 
Frances' nerves. Frances raised her eyes skyward for a second as she 
wondered about the intelligence of offering her services to her father, 
who was being really unpleasant this evening, not only to her but to 
everyone else... save Kristen. 

"Move it, Jinx!" Kristen called out from behind her. Frances whipped her
dark head around to scowl at one of her tormentors. "Can't you see that 
the girls are getting slammed out there? If you have time to rest, then 
run these plates out!" 

Wiping her wet hands on her apron, Frances stalked over to the counter
for the meals there. She backed into the swinging doors that separated 
the craziness of the kitchen from the zoo of hungry patrons waiting to 
be fed and was met head on by Missy, who was hurrying towards the 
kitchen with a stack of dirty plates. Frances as everything clattered 
onto the floor in slow-motion horror, effectively silencing the 
conversation in the restaurant. 

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Missy squealed, almost in tears. Frances
could only gape at her, knowing that shit was going to rain on them in 
just... one... second.... 

"Frances, get your ass back in here!" Russell bellowed. Frances squeezed
her eyes shut and resigned herself to an ugly fate. Tammy made a 
beeline for the mess and helped a shaky Missy pick up dishes and wipe 
away spilled food. 

"What the hell are you doing? Are you blind?" Russell roared as he
slapped two more pieces of rump steak on the grill. 

Frances had just about enough and was about to go off in her own little
tirade when she caught sight of Kristen's smug looking face. Frances 
forcibly clamped her mouth shut and lowered her head. She was not going 
to give Kristen the satisfaction of witnessing her blow her top. 

"What are you still standing there for? Go apologize to the customers
those meals were meant for and tell them that they'll be ready in five 
minutes!" Russell plated two fish and chips and located the docket with 
the meals that he had to re-make. "Kristen, I need another chicken 
risotto from you." 

"Got it, Chef." 

"Yea, got it, Chef," Frances couldn't help echoing Kristen; her words,
however, were dripping with sarcasm. She threw both her father and the 
woman at the stove dirty looks when they swivelled around to glare at 
her cheek. "Sorry Chef, yes Chef, doing it right now, Oh Great Ones!" 
she mumbled under her breath as she exited the kitchen. God complexes 
indeed! 

"I heard that!" Kristen's voice floated past the swinging doors. 

"Good!" Frances mouthed, wrinkling her nose at poor Missy, who was
wiping the floor with a damp tea towel. "You're doing great, Missy. 
Don't let the shitty chefs get to you," Frances said as she hooked a 
thumb in the direction of the kitchen, eliciting a watery smile from 
the new girl. 

Frances had always prided herself in being someone who had a lot of
patience. After all, wasn't it a pre-requisite for teaching English to 
people who did not understand a single word of it? But working in the 
kitchen, in this kitchen, under her bellowing, arrogant, drunken father 
and his infuriating, tormenting, sadistic sous chef gave the word 
'patience' a whole new meaning. 

She took a deep breath and tried to swallow her irritation as she made
her way to the patrons of Table Two. 

* 

At a quarter to eleven, Taters was finally quiet, empty and spotless.
The staff sat outside in the prettily lit beer garden, each with a 
beverage of choice in their glass--everyone but Russell. He had 
finished a bottle of bourbon during service, was halfway through his 
second and he was drinking straight from the bottle. 

Frances blew out a breath and was met with a shy smile from Missy. They
had bonded over the shift; in a way, Frances was glad because this 
meant that Missy wasn't going to quit just yet. If Tammy could survive 
this long without leaving, maybe things might get better for Missy if 
she hung in there. She wondered how much Missy needed this job and 
hoped fervently, for her father's sake, that she needed it badly. 

"A hundred and ninety two covers, everyone," Tammy announced cheerily. 

Frances crossed her legs as she leaned back into the seat. She stank of
kitchen grease, dirty dishwater, and sweat. It was gross. She lifted 
her glass of red wine to her lips and took a small sip. The alcohol 
warmed her up slightly, as did the stand up outdoor heater. Her mobile 
phone went off, indicating a text message from Nell. It was an 
invitation to join her friend and a few other girls at the Courthouse 
pub in Newtown. Frances mulled over her answer. She was tired and she 
stank. But she could totally use a drink with her mates. 

"Plus the two that Frances and Missy fucked up, that's a hundred and
ninety four," Kristen said dryly. 

Frances sat up straight at this and shot Kristen a withering look which
would have worked better if the woman was looking her way. "Yes, Chef," 
Frances said in a deceptively demure voice. Kristen's eyes snapped to 
her face immediately. "Sorry Chef. Please punish me, Chef. I'll do 
better next time, Chef," Frances continued snarkily, her eyes dancing. 

She caught the edges of Kristen's lips twitching before the woman
averted her eyes and lifted her glass of wine to her lips. Could it be 
that she was showing appreciation at Frances' sarcasm? 

Perhaps Miss Black was all bark and no bite after all. Frances trailed
her eyes over the shiner on Kristen's face and had to stifle a laugh at 
the memory of the Bathroom Incident. Kristen had a beautifully straight 
and sharp nose, Frances noted. 

And elegantly shaped brows that rose each time the woman was being
infuriating. Which was often. 

And full, ripe lips that curled up in arrogant sneers... or lovely
smiles, like the one that was playing around her lips right now as she 
sipped at her wine. 

Lovely? Frances had to shake her head when she actually stopped to
reflect on what she was thinking. Full, ripe lips? 

"I must be overworked," Frances mumbled feverishly under her breath.
Bemused green eyes met hers and Frances looked away. She quickly typed 
out a text message to Nell and stood up. "All right everyone. Have a 
good night." 

Russell put down his bottle of bourbon with a dull thud. "Where're you
off to, lass?" he rumbled. 

"Home. Then out," Frances said with a shrug. She felt a tad
uncomfortable announcing her plans to everyone. 

"What, this company not good enough for you?" Russell asked. Frances
wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Russell took another swig from the 
bottle. "Can't have two seconds with you. You're always disappearing on 
me," he grumbled. 

The atmosphere turned awkward with those words. Tammy and Missy
exchanged a look and made themselves scarce. Kristen was about to 
follow them when Russell slammed down his glass on the table. "What. 
Now my company isn't good enough for anyone? Everyone gotta leave?" 
Kristen sat herself back down and looked from father to daughter 
warily. 

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink, Russell," Kristen started
slowly. 

Russell threw her a dirty look. "Don't you be telling me what to do." 

"Stop being so rude, Dad!" Frances snapped at her father, not sure why
he was being such a jerk now that service was over. 

"You're not old enough to lecture me, lass!" 

"Oh, yea, cos you're a fine example of a parent! You're nothing but a
drunk! Mum would be ashamed of you if she saw you right now." Even as 
the words tumbled out of her mouth, Frances knew that she should not 
have uttered them. 

"Well she isn't here now, is she!" Russell roared. 

Frances was not sure when she had started crying but she was. She wiped
the back of her arm across her face, angry at herself for her show of 
weakness. When had the conversation changed so drastically? And there 
was that woman, sitting there, witnessing it all. Frances felt like 
screaming, running away... anything but standing here on the receiving 
end of Russell's anger and heartbreak. 

"Why did you have to come back?" Russell muttered into his bottle,
seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. "You come back and you make 
things okay for a little while... and then you'll go again. You'll take 
that smile with you... her smile... her eyes... Why?" Russell's voice 
broke at the end. "I want her back." 

"So do I." 

It was nothing more than a whisper but Kristen heard the words. 

"And maybe you're right. I shouldn't have come back." 

With those words, Frances did an about turn and left. 

TBC


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