Shrimp. Part 6

Alexei's upside is I'm fairly sure he's getting some play from Lord Empress Kari. On more than one occasion I have caught him coming out of her office looking disheveled, tucking in his s.h.i.+rt, giving me a typical Alexei glare, indicating I can just keep my mouth shut about whatever is or isn't going on in that office. I can't imagine how a little booty from that horror chick is worth a semester away from his precious college, but who am I to criticize in the love department? I'm not exactly a relations.h.i.+p expert, seeing as how I couldn't even major in "just friends" these days, even if I wanted to.

"Cyd Charisse, you're doing a great job folding those napkins!" Kari chirped at me as she whizzed past the round table where I was sitting with Alexei.

"Thanks!" I said back in my most chipper voice, but Kari didn't hear the sarcasm. She winked her lazy eye at me. "She's a superstar!" Kari sang before stomping to the kitchen to yell at the sous chef for not picking up enough 112.

mahi mahi at the early-morning fish market. Even Alexei, sitting next to me, groaned.

The restaurant employs several hostesses across different s.h.i.+fts. I'm the youngest hostess, I work the fewest hours of all on a two-day-a-week schedule, and I work the 2:00 to 5:00 s.h.i.+ft, which has to be the restaurant's least busy, least stressful time of the business day. Yet I'm the only hostess whom Kari specifically praises for her napkin-folding skills or for doing such a fantastic fantastic job seating table 7. Yeah, like pressing creases into a piece of linen or leading a group of people to a table, handing them a menu, and offering a fake smile is so challenging. On the plus side, the sucking up does allow me a certain privilege other hostesses might not get, although none besides me want it: I get to stay extra hours in the kitchen with the sous chefs if I want, chopping veggies, learning how to saute, watching how soup stock is made. job seating table 7. Yeah, like pressing creases into a piece of linen or leading a group of people to a table, handing them a menu, and offering a fake smile is so challenging. On the plus side, the sucking up does allow me a certain privilege other hostesses might not get, although none besides me want it: I get to stay extra hours in the kitchen with the sous chefs if I want, chopping veggies, learning how to saute, watching how soup stock is made.

"Does Kari actually think that all her sucking up to me gets reported back to Dad?" I asked Alexei. "Because I specifically don't talk about this job to him, and if I did, I specifically would not be singing Kari's praises."

If I did talk to Sid-dad about the restaurant, I might tell him that it's Alexei, not Kari, who makes sure the wait-staff shares its tips with the busboys and dishwashers. It's Alexei who wooed the restaurant's new sommelier from a competing restaurant, Alexei who must have grunted through a marathon of miles talking to the wine expert about their shared appreciation of Sonoma chardonnays and the Detroit Red Wings over the treadmills at their mutual gym. Kari may have ultimately been responsible for hiring the wine expert whose great reputation is bringing in 113.

a ton of new clientele, but she's not the person who had the "right contacts" to bring the sommelier over in the first place, as she claims.

I am not talking to Sid-dad about the restaurant because my work-study semester is a big fat waste of time, in my opinion. (But if I did, I would be sure to throw in the word sommelier, sommelier, because it does sound impressive. If the SAT had word a.s.sociations like because it does sound impressive. If the SAT had word a.s.sociations like Chocolate is to lovemaking Chocolate is to lovemaking as sommelier is to__ as sommelier is to__ _, I would kick a.s.s on that nonsense _, I would kick a.s.s on that nonsense test.) Hanging out in the kitchen can be fun, but mostly it's just a diversionary tactic to smell yummy ingredients and not think about the Shrimp situation. I don't belong in a place like this. I don't care about fusion cuisine. I could give less of a f.u.c.k about an establishment that is considered "hot." I hate changing into a conservative skirt, white blouse, and pumps when I start my s.h.i.+ft after school; the uniform is suffocating. I loathe customers who order beet-and-goat cheese salad, pork tenderloin, and apple tartlet, only to barf their meals back up in the ladies' room after, and I know this because volunteering to perform the hourly TP check in the bathroom has resulted in more than a few unpleasant discoveries of spew chunks on toilet seats. What is wrong with people? Customers out at Java the Hut aren't like that. Of course Java the Hut is a completely different crowd in a completely different type of establishment in a completely different nabe--it's like comparing apples to oranges, but maybe I am an Orange in a restaurant of Apples and I can't help but wish to be among my own kind.

Not that jtH is an establishment I will be frequenting anytime soon. In the week since telling Shrimp about the A-date we've barely acknowledged each other at school and 114.

the tarp on his unfinished painting on the deck at home has gone untouched. Sid-dad isn't around for me to ask for a job switch, anyway. He left almost right away on a business trip to the East Coast after our talk in his bedroom, when I let it slip about Nancy knowing about my...um...issues but not telling him.

The peace temperature in our house has experienced a sudden climate change to: burr-ito (to borrow the favored expression of our not-Just Friend right now, Shrimp).

Alexei set down a tray of empty gla.s.s candleholders needing fresh candles for us to prepare for the dinnertime tables. He said, "I don't know what Kari thinks, but the sucking up is is a little extreme. You know what though, kid?" a little extreme. You know what though, kid?" Kid? Kid? "Fernando was right. You do have a decent work ethic, I'm gonna give you some credit. I thought you would be completely useless and a drain here, but you pull your own weight, for a skinny princess." "Fernando was right. You do have a decent work ethic, I'm gonna give you some credit. I thought you would be completely useless and a drain here, but you pull your own weight, for a skinny princess."

"Thank you so much, Alexei. I can't express to you what a relief I feel knowing my work ethic meets your standards." I scrunched up a folded napkin and threw it in his face. He laughed.

'Alexei," I said. "What is the deal with guys and their whole Madonna/wh.o.r.e complex?"

"WHAT?" Alexei said, his face turning that tomato color his Eastern European genes exhibit so well.

"Like, why are guys so into getting a girl to fool around, but once the girl does, then they hold it against her? What is that about? I mean, you have a past--everyone knows the scandal about your first girlfriend in high school being your trig tutor who was way older than you, but do your girlfriends since hold it against you?"

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Alexei said, "I don't even know how to respond to all this. Where did this come from?"

"I'd just like some answers is all. And you're the closest heteros.e.xual male that I know who may be able to explain this to me. So?"

Alexei's shrug acknowledged the truth of the question. "Guys are like that. I have no idea why. Any girl a guy dates seriously, he's going to want to think she hasn't been around."

'Are you like that? If, say--hypothetically, of course-- you were dating someone like Kari and you found out she had, let's just say some indiscretions in her past, would you then lose interest in her?"

Why am I so stupid? I had a very important question and Alexei was actually a person who might be able to give a reasonable explanation of the Madonna/wh.o.r.e male psychology in his faux intellectual way that might have made sense, but I ruined it by using Kari as an example.

Alexei threw the napkin back at me. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. He got up from the table to go into the kitchen.

I heard the crash of a tray of water gla.s.ses falling to the floor and looked up to see Nancy swis.h.i.+ng her bony hips past a busboy, whose mouth was agape at the vision of the tall blonde in the short, soft pink Chanel suit. She didn't turn her back to see the commotion she'd caused; she just continued walking over to my table.

"I thought I would pick you up from work and take you out to dinner," she said. "The baby-sitter can stay late with the kids and make them dinner tonight."

Oh, joy, the mother-daughter combo, with the menfolk 116.

who aren't speaking to them, experiencing a night on the town.

"Nah," I groaned. Nancy would probably want to stay at the restaurant for dinner, just to relish Kari's a.s.s-kissing.

"You can choose the place," Nancy offered.

Well, that was an entirely different matter. "Can we go to Zachary's Pizza in Oakland?" My mouth watered at the thought of tasting the Chicago-style spinach-and-mushroom-stuffed pizza with the wicked stewed tomatoes, oozing with cheese.

I wonder if something is wrong with me. All I ever think about is food or s.e.x.

"No," Nancy replied.

"But you just said..."

"I'm not driving across the Bay Bridge at rush hour. It'll take us longer to get there than it will to eat there. And I'm not eating Zachary's pizza. I just fit back into this outfit today. Why don't we stay here? The sus.h.i.+ is good."

You can't just throw a dog a bone like that and take it away, so I wasn't willing to compromise. I hadn't asked for this favor. "No way."

Nancy tried again. "Greens?"

The offer was an interesting power play on her part, as she had suggested only my fave special-occasion restaurant that sits on a dock looking out on the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, with succulent produce from the Zen Buddhist organic farm in Marin County that's used for an all-vegetarian menu of food that's to die for. Literally. If I were on death row I would want my last meal from Green's, and no one is a bigger carnivore than me. But I still hesitated, so Nancy threw in one more bone, in the form of a set 117.

of car keys she tossed me from her handbag. "You can drive," she said.

Oh. My. G.o.d. Nancy just wanted my company.

I caught the keys. "I'm there." I've got a learner's permit now, but between school and jobs I haven't had time to practice driving, and Fernando is not exactly volunteering to be the adult in the car when I try to maneuver a large vehicle up the steep streets of Pacific Heights--or scarier still, down the streets. I seem to have issues with how hard to hit the brakes on the downward slopes, and Fernando said there is only so much Excedrin for migraines medication he can take.

After I changed back into my regular clothes I met Nancy at the reception area. As we walked outside where the valet was waiting with her Mercedes SUV, I informed her, "Iris says that SUVs are the cause of oil wars, and that SUVs are a wasteful nation's global disease, polluting the environment. Iris says that driving an SUV is practically being an accessory to terrorism. Iris says..."

Nancy cut me off. "Good for Iris," she said, and hopped into the pa.s.senger's side.

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Chapter 16

I don't think my driving skills are that bad, but Nancy's face was ashen by the time we reached Greens. She ordered a red wine before the hostess could even hand us our menus. my driving skills are that bad, but Nancy's face was ashen by the time we reached Greens. She ordered a red wine before the hostess could even hand us our menus.

Once I'd checked out the menu I asked Nancy, "So what is the deal with Dad?" I placed Gingerbread on the table, against the fogged-in window.

"You're kidding me with that," Nancy said, avoiding my question and pointing at Gingerbread, who is used to Nancy's abuse so I didn't have to worry about Gingerbread getting in a snit about being pointed at. "I thought you retired Gingerbread."

"Dolls are like old people, Mother. They're not just cute props. They need to be aired out every now and again."

"If you're trying to get me to let you take the car with Sugar Pie as your designated adult pa.s.senger, the answer is no."

d.a.m.n.

'Are you and Dad fighting?"

"We're fine."

"You don't sound fine," I said. "I heard you yelling at each other from your bedroom before he left for New York. I'm sorry if it's my fault."

"Cyd Charisse..." Now I pointed at Nancy, to remind her of my name correction. "...Oh, for G.o.d's sake, CC. CC.

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What goes on between Dad and me isn't for you to worry about. He was a little mad and I understand why...."

"Why?"

Exasperated, Nancy said, "This is really a matter between two married people, not for mother and child to discuss."

"I'm not a child," I reminded her.

She took my statement as an excuse to change the topic. "I agree. That's why I thought we should have some time alone tonight to talk about your future. You can't dodge the college talk forever. It's late October already and application deadlines are coming up fast. What are you thinking you want to do? I've left several college brochures in your room, and I've noticed you've tossed them all in the recycling bin. Your academic record may be a little weak, but there are plenty of schools that will accept you, schools I think you might even like. You're not a dumb girl, despite what your rocky transcript might suggest."

"I know, but thanks for the backhanded compliment anyway." Why do adults think every girl who isn't some overachieving nitwit needs to be rea.s.sured about her intelligence? Folks, my self-esteem is just fine, thanks. I may not be school smart, and I might do extremely stupid things sometimes, but I know I'm smart. And I'd give me serious Vegas odds to kick the a.s.s of Sarah Scholar at life-skills mortal combat any day.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it. You're going to have to do something next year after you graduate. What's it going to be?"

Why do I have to DO something? What's wrong with no plan, with no college? I don't intend to be some trust-fund 120.

rich girl who lives off Dad's (or in my case, Dads') bank accounts. I plan on making my own way. I just haven't figured out what way yet. But if I wanted to do nothing for a while, what's so wrong with that? It's not like I am applying for citizens.h.i.+p to live in the Nation of Slackeronia.

I don't see me at college, and I don't see the crime in that. I wouldn't mind owning a cafe or something one day-- but later, after I've had time to figure out all that self-discovery bulls.h.i.+t your late teens are supposed to be all about. Anyway, the best future I've ever seriously considered was simply being Shrimp's girlfriend, and that prospect is looking pretty dead right now.

I decided to change the subject back to what I wanted to talk about. "Why was Dad so mad? It's not like you were keeping a secret from him. I asked you not to tell him."

The waiter came for our orders. Nancy said he might as well bring along a whole bottle of wine, because one gla.s.s clearly wasn't going to cut it this evening.

Nancy finished her first gla.s.s of wine in one long gulp. "If you really must know, the issue is deeper than just me not telling him. He's angry that I kept your confidence when he feels that as your father, it was his right to know. But the reason he suddenly had to leave to close a deal in New York, one that he could have negotiated perfectly well from his office in San Francisco, is the situation brought back the fights we used to have over whether to send you to boarding school. He had thought boarding school was a bad idea from the get-go."

"Why did you do that anyway?" I asked. I took a sip from her second gla.s.s of wine. It was a nice cabernet, but frankly a white wine would have been a better match with 121.

the meal she had ordered. "Because I hated that place and I never understood what I did so wrong to make you send me there."

"You didn't do anything wrong to be sent there. What would make you say that? Do you really think that? I wanted you to have the best education possible, to meet the right people. I wanted you to have the luxuries I never had."

She looked hurt so I didn't point out, You wanted me there because having the Little h.e.l.lion gone made it easier for you. You wanted me there because having the Little h.e.l.lion gone made it easier for you. The whole situation was very Baroness in The whole situation was very Baroness in The Sound of Music, The Sound of Music, who had wanted to send the Von Trapp children away so she could have Christopher Plummer all to herself and not deal with the messy complications that are teenagers and their hormones and all that. who had wanted to send the Von Trapp children away so she could have Christopher Plummer all to herself and not deal with the messy complications that are teenagers and their hormones and all that.

I love that movie, The Sound of Music. The Sound of Music. Every time the camera pans over Julie Andrews on that mountain singing about those hills being alive, or when the children harmonize the song with crescendos of Every time the camera pans over Julie Andrews on that mountain singing about those hills being alive, or when the children harmonize the song with crescendos of ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, buckets o' tears just stream down my face, out of my control. Maybe that could be my future plan; I'll take a year abroad and become one of those people who go to buckets o' tears just stream down my face, out of my control. Maybe that could be my future plan; I'll take a year abroad and become one of those people who go to The Sound of Music The Sound of Music sing-alongs at movie theaters throughout the world. That would rock as a plan to DO something. sing-alongs at movie theaters throughout the world. That would rock as a plan to DO something.

"You and Dad aren't going to separate or anything, right?" I'm not worried, but I kinda am and I do feel bad that my problem got Sid-dad so upset. I poured Nancy a third gla.s.s of wine, which she cleared right off.

"Of course not. This is just a b.u.mp in the road. Marriage is complicated. It's like being on a s.h.i.+p at sea, rocking back and forth over the long journey. The best you can hope for is to hold steady, smooth sailing, but there will 122.

be times when a storm can turn into a crisis. But the storms pa.s.s. And then there will be times when the boat..."

I moved the wine to the far end of the table, near Gingerbread. Nancy and her nonsense similes didn't need any more help from the vino. vino.

"Shrimp is a hypocrite," I told her. She was tipsy-- what did I care if I confided in her just a little? She probably wouldn't remember. "He acts like he's all mellow Mister Peace, Love, and Understanding, but that all must be a fake act."

"I noticed he hasn't been by the house to work on his painting. I take it he didn't react well when you told him about Justin."

"Yeah. Want to know the worst part? He actually had the gall to ask if it was Justin's, like he thought it could have been someone else's. He might as well have punched me in the stomach for how much that hurt. Shrimp and Justin are the only guys I have been with, you know--all the way with." A look of relief--and surprise--flooded her face, like she too had thought, because I was caught in flagrante delicto in flagrante delicto with Justin, that I was probably getting that busy with other guys too. Nice to suspect even my own mother thought it possible I had been sleeping around. Wouldn't Nancy be surprised to know that her supposed reformed bad-girl daughter isn't ashamed of her past, but if she had to do it all over again, she might have waited a little longer before doing the deed, but she didn't understand then that once you start with that stuff, there's no turning back? "Why are guys like that? Either you're sacred or you're a s.l.u.t. There's no winning with them." with Justin, that I was probably getting that busy with other guys too. Nice to suspect even my own mother thought it possible I had been sleeping around. Wouldn't Nancy be surprised to know that her supposed reformed bad-girl daughter isn't ashamed of her past, but if she had to do it all over again, she might have waited a little longer before doing the deed, but she didn't understand then that once you start with that stuff, there's no turning back? "Why are guys like that? Either you're sacred or you're a s.l.u.t. There's no winning with them."

"Honey, if you could solve the key to that mystery 123.

about men, you could bottle it, sell it, and become the richest woman in the world. But I will say, not meaning to defend Shrimp's reaction, maybe you just caught him by surprise. Maybe he's had this idealized vision of you and he couldn't deal with having it broken, in that particular moment. He'll be back, and he'll be sorry. It's obvious to anyone how much he cares for you. Be patient, and when he comes around be understanding. But don't you dare apologize to him. That's what they want--for us to apologize for being mere mortal beings, not perfect."

'Are you going to apologize to Dad?"

Nancy sighed. "Well, yes. But in all fairness, I was wrong. About boarding school. And about letting him be a father to you all these years, and yet not letting him in when it mattered most. You made a mistake, but that was in your past and it's nothing you should have to apologize to Shrimp, of all people, about. He had nothing to do with it."

Baby tears specked the corners of Nancy's eyelids. I touched her hand across the table. "Maybe I should drive home after dinner."

She yawned. "That would be great."

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Chapter 17

I haven't gone so long without a boyfriend, or at least a decent crush, since elementary school. I'm still too mad at Shrimp to ponder how I am going to channel the s.e.xual frustration that is building inside me. Even Alexei is starting to look hot, but we're not talking Loo-eese danger-fling-zone hot. I would have to gag at kissing any lips that might also have...done things...with/to/on Lord Empress Kari. Blech. so long without a boyfriend, or at least a decent crush, since elementary school. I'm still too mad at Shrimp to ponder how I am going to channel the s.e.xual frustration that is building inside me. Even Alexei is starting to look hot, but we're not talking Loo-eese danger-fling-zone hot. I would have to gag at kissing any lips that might also have...done things...with/to/on Lord Empress Kari. Blech.

The unexpected bonus of Shrimp being in the dawg-house is that Autumn and Helen turn out to be acceptable in the companion department.

Why did I not have girlfriends before? Because all the girls I knew at boarding school were jerks, or because I didn't know how to be a friend to other girls?

I was worried about H&A spending too much time in the house because you never know when Fernando or Sid-dad is going to break out with an Asian driver joke, but Autumn doesn't drive anyway and Helen knows more Asian driver jokes than Fernando. Those girls love love hanging out at my house. It turns out a House Beautiful that has a family room with a huge TV, video games, and tons of movies, a backyard garden with a trampoline, a younger brother who loves roughhousing, and a younger sister who is fascinated watching her Ken doll transformed into Sid Vicious by big sister's friends, is not considered a prison by everybody. hanging out at my house. It turns out a House Beautiful that has a family room with a huge TV, video games, and tons of movies, a backyard garden with a trampoline, a younger brother who loves roughhousing, and a younger sister who is fascinated watching her Ken doll transformed into Sid Vicious by big sister's friends, is not considered a prison by everybody.

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