 
Brand New Day – Part One: Falling Apart

Copyright © 2015 by Wren Rogers

Published and distributed by Eastside Publications

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief (cited) quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN # 978-0-9972795-0-4

website – www.wrenrogersbooks.com

email – contact@wrenrogers.com

The Brand New Day series is a work of fiction based certain facts. With some exceptions, the businesses, streets, buildings, bridges and other historical and geographical details are factual.

In some examples, characters may use foul language; engage in explicit sexual acts, violence and other illegal activities. Characters may abuse drugs and alcohol, use racial stereotyping, bigotry, and make offensive racial remarks and or actions. The viewpoint of these characters is not in any way related to the personal viewpoints of the author.

None of the content in this book, or any in the series, was intended to offend, anger, profile or otherwise cause any gender, race, color, creed or doctrine harm or distress.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Author Bio

More Books in the Brand New Day Series
Chapter 1

For five solid hours the busy restaurant's kitchen slammed and banged. Cooks rushed and shoved, sweated and strained themselves to pull off the perfect service. The dining room tables, just moments ago squeezed to capacity, were now vacant. The sounds of the lively dinner crowd were gone, only the whir of an annoying vacuum pierced the quiet as the bus boy swept.

Tired servers sat together at a far corner table, chatting as they polished silverware and folded clean linens for tomorrow. Moments ago they were deep in a high-pressure cardio workout, dashing and sprinting from the pass line to the tables, toting heavy plates with a strong outstretched arm without pause. The kitchen crew slid and slipped across the wet floor, scrambling to sort out the mess and clock out in time to cut loose at the local pub. The show was over, but the night wasn't.

Back in the dish room, Armando was loading the last of the dirty pans into the washer. "Hey Micha... You feel anything yet? I'm feelin' kinda' funny. I think this stuff is comin' on too soon," the Mexican dishwasher called out to the hippie line cook passing by.

"Shh... Don't say that shit out loud Armando! Chef will hear... and catch on. Then what? You wanna' work at Burger King?" Micah replied angrily, waving him quite with a scowl.

A voice boomed across the kitchen, stealing their attention.

"Let's wrap it up! It's almost over, just a few chores left and we can get the hell out of here. Get this trash out Armando," Chef Rob yelled to the dish room.

Miguel, the Mexican lead cook, nodded to him with a smile. "We gonna' make eet just in time amigo!"

Chef Rob heard his words, but didn't quite understand what he meant. Nevertheless, he wasn't concerned. In less than an hour, they would all be clocking out, making a mad dash to the bar.

The riverboat restaurant, The Good Ship Cincinnati had been running smooth all through the dinner rush. Now, all that was left was to clean up the mess and count the money. Behind the line, the cooks broke down the stations. Luckily, most of their work was already done. An hour ago, as he noticed the full on rush slow down, Miguel insisted that the kitchen crew begin the closing duties, anticipating a fast escape just after the restaurant closed. He had very special plans with the crew tonight and wanted out as soon as possible.

Unexpectedly, a half-drunk wedding party stumbled into the lobby, no reservations, no warning whatsoever. Ralph, the Ship's owner greeted them as he passed by. Seating the rowdy group, the hostess waved the manager over.

"Sandra, these people just piled into the lobby. I told them we are closed, but Ralph insisted I seat them anyway. I didn't know what to do so I had to..."

The sultry manager looked at the boisterous table with a sigh.

"Are you kidding me Amy? Damn him! Ralph owns the place but he doesn't know how to run it. Nevertheless, I guess we all have to bend to his wishes. Rob is going to be livid," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration as she walked off in a trot.

Sandra knew the kitchen would be infuriated. No doubt they already had the line broken down and cleaned. An unexpected twelve top this late would send them over the edge.

Greeting the party, Sandra realized they were all quite intoxicated. Taking their drink orders, she jogged over to her best server.

"Ellen, you are the only server whose side work is done. I'm gonna' need you to take this party that just stumbled in here."

Ellen's face turned to a scowl. "Geez' Sandra, we are closed already. Everything is put away. I just dumped the tea and..."

Sandra cut her off. "I know, dumb ass Ralph allowed them to come in. Please Elle' I really need your help here if we are ever going to get out of this place tonight."

Knowing there was really no alternative, Ellen shrugged, feigning a smile. "I will get their orders and try to speed them along. Maybe we can get them fed and out the door by the time the servers are finished with their side work, but I don't think so."

Sandra knew she chose correctly. If any server could handle the last second set back, it was Ellen.

Behind the line, the cooks were wiping the stainless to a gleaming shine. Armando was carrying the last load of pans back to his dish room. The crew was pleased with their speedy progress. They were certain they would make it to their favorite pub in plenty of time tonight.

As Chef Rob was wrapping up his last remaining task, he heard a familiar but strikingly odd sound. Suddenly, the kitchen printer began spewing out an endless ribbon of orders. Every cook in the kitchen instantly stopped still. They stood with mouths open, staring at the yellow paper spitting out of the machine, watching in dismay.

Looking at his watch, Rob couldn't understand what was happening. "What the hell?" he yelled, running over to the printer.

Lead cook Miguel walked in from the dish room. Seeing the slew of tickets, he threw his towel across the room. "What da' hell ees dees?" he asked in angry wonder. "Dees ees bull sheet!"

Under normal circumstances, the crew of The Good Ship Cincinnati could handle the sudden last minute onslaught of orders, but on this particular night, Miguel had just got his hands on some psychedelic mushrooms. Unknown to Chef Rob, Miguel had secretly shared them with Micah and Armando just as the shift slowed to a crawl. Their powerful psilocybin effects were beginning to take hold earlier than anticipated.

Tearing tickets off the ribbon draped to the floor, Rob began calling the orders out. "Two half racks, one cod, one porterhouse, one half rack, one burger medium, one burger bloody, one lamb, one rib eye burnt, one cod, two lamb. Listen up, that's two cod, two burgers, three lamb and three half racks all day! Micah, grab the meat from the walk-in. I will get the fish ready. Miguel crank that grill back up, it's still pretty hot maybe we can get this stuff out pronto. I need to see what the hell is going on here."

Instead of hearing the orders called back as usual, Chef Rob heard only silence, then... snickering.

"What the hell..." he said to himself, as he heard no 'call back' from neither Miguel nor Micah.

Turning to the cooks, he watched as they stood still, holding their mouths, slightly slumped over. They were nearly in tears, holding back laughter. Rob couldn't imagine what was so funny as he stared at their contorted faces.

Miguel broke first, busting out hard and loud. He laughed so deeply and debilitating it doubled him over. The other lineman quickly followed suit. Even over the racket of the dishwasher, Armando heard the laughing. Coming to the corner, he leaned on the wall as he broke down in tears at the sight of his crewmates. Chef Rob's entire line was now leaning with watering eyes, choking as they laughed through tears. Staring, helpless and hopeless, Chef Rob watched in despair as his entire crew disintegrated into a slobbering mess.

"Sandra! What is this giant string of orders about?" Rob cried out as the sultry manager appeared at the pass looking anxious.

"I know, I know we're closed," Sandra replied as she walked to the line. "I would have sent them away but Ralph insisted they could stay. Ellen is..."

As he sat out sauté pans to heat on the burners, Rob cut her off. "That's awesome... Maybe he would like to stay until midnight by himself and clean up the kitchen we just finished wiping down."

"It's some drunk wedding party, just throw it together as fast as you can," she said again in her defense.

Rob began working the first order, shaking his head in aggravation. "Great. We were three minutes from leaving. Now just look at this string of tickets, the biggest order of the night."

Sandra felt terrible. Yet there was nothing she could do.

"At least the crew isn't taking it hard. They seem to think it's pretty funny," Sandra said as she noticed the laughter.

Rob didn't smile. "Yeah, I'm not sure what that is all about. But I assure you, they don't think this is funny. I think something else has them in hysterics."

As Sandra looked over at the line cooks, they laughed uncontrollably again.

Rob shot Sandra a worried look. "I think my line, just crossed over the line. I don't know what they're smoking now, but I'm getting the feeling we are going to be really screwed here trying to get these orders out. Just look at them, they're on something more than usual. That's not pot cracking them up that hard," Rob said as he rolled his eyes towards the crew, now hushing their laughs with their hands.

The look in their dilated eyes told Sandra all she needed to see. They were useless now. It became clear with their complete disregard as Rob called out the orders a second time. Calling the orders out louder, he watched for them to react, but even that did not set them into action. They paid the tickets no mind. Leaning on equipment, doubling over weak in the knees, they continued with their choking laughter.

Sandra stood staring. Looking up at her with a fast glance, Miguel blurted out a laugh with everything he had. Within a split second the others did the same. Miguel could no longer even stand, his knees bent sharply, hovering inches off the floor, a slight drool dribbling from his lip.

"Holy shit! I hope you can get them going and get that food out soon, otherwise we will be here until morning," Sandra said as she shot Rob an ill glare. After a torrid stare and a dismayed scowl, she darted back out into the dining room.

Walking briskly towards Ellen, Sandra whispered beside her. "Get the wedding party drinks, salads, bread whatever you can find, keep them busy, their food is going to take forever, if it even comes at all."

"Why? Did the crew leave already?" Ellen asked curiously.

Sandra shot back quickly. "No, they are all back there, but they're on acid or something. Everyone except Rob is just a worthless heap, laughing themselves to tears."

"Oh my god! Really, they're on acid? This party is drunk and difficult. If they drag the orders, we'll be here until two in the morning. I have to get home to my dad, he usually waits up for me," Ellen said with concern.

"I know," sighed Sandra. "But I know you can pull this off Elle', if any server here can handle it, it's you."

Unconvinced, Ellen sprinted to the bar to get the drinks.

Realizing the crew could not be relied on to cook, Rob felt a nervous tingling deep in the pit of his stomach. Not allowing panic to set in, he instinctively acted immediately. Life as a head chef had softened him up to the hard work, but in his soul, he knew he still had rock star production in him. He was not about to fold under pressure on this late night. This is what he had trained so hard to do in the tough New York kitchens he came up in. He had to make it happen. No matter what, the unexpected party's orders would come out, even if he had to cook each and every order alone. He wasn't about to let the cooks neither slow him down, nor 'throw it together' either.

Jogging behind the line, Rob ignored the laughing madness around him. Tearing off the tickets one by one, he began cooking each order with such speed, precision and efficiency the cooks suddenly stopped laughing and just stared, riveted to the scene as it unfolded.

"Working the grill with one hand, while sautéing with the other, he got the orders working instantly. Seeing the crew staring at him, he yelled out. "C'mon you worthless bastards! I need two cods down now!"

Micah, reacted with a jolt, quickly ducking to the under counter cooler and springing back up with the plastic wrapped filets. One by one, Rob called out his needs and the tripping team reacted. They were engrossed at the sight of Rob's sudden effort behind their line. Gracefully, he moved from one station to the next, organizing the items for the orders. Manning the grill, sauté and garnish stations simultaneously. Weaving between the team, he mesmerized the cooks with his swift smooth motions. Quickly, Rob finished the first few dishes, stacking plates at the pass. He was out cooking every cook on the line... all by himself. Maybe it was the mushrooms, maybe it was Rob's amazing speed, but either way, it was magic to the crew. They had never seen the food look better.

Sandra came rushing into the kitchen looking tearful. "Rob they're getting drunker and more belligerent out there! Ellen is buying us time with salad, bread and a whole lot of charm but I gotta' have some food now, something, anything!"

"No worries little lady," he replied. "I got it all but one right here. How long on that last dish Miguel?" Rob asked.

"Sí, sí eets coming now," Miguel replied as he placed ribs on a plate.

"Wow, how the hell did you pull that off Rob?" Sandra asked in disbelief.

"I can still cook you know, I could do it in my sleep," Rob shot back.

"I wonder what else you're so good at Mr. Amazing?" Sandra asked, smiling as she eyed Rob teasingly.

Ellen rushed in beside her.

"Ellen! Grab those six and I will grab these," Sandra said.

Stacking their arms with plates, they dashed out the swinging kitchen doors.

"Whoa amigo! Sandra likes your machismo!" Miguel said with a giggle.

"Stop with the fucking laughing! I want to get out of here before who knows what else happens," Rob snapped.

The kitchen instantly went silent. Then... in the distant dish room, they heard another gut wrenching laugh. It was Armando, losing control, sliding slowly to the wet tile with debilitating laughter.

"Jesus Christ," Rob mumbled, tossing his towel at Miguel. "Get this place cleaned up again, I want to get out of here before last call."

"Last call?" Miguel repeated with a tone of shock. "Sheet! I almost forgot. We have to hurry!"

That was all it took. Miguel yelled out in Spanish to Armando and the crew snapped into action. Slipping and sliding about the kitchen, like ants swarming on a melting sidewalk candy bar, they began a rush to close out quickly. If they were to hit up their local pub in time for a few stiff drinks, they had to act faster than ever before.
Chapter 2

The mushroom high had settled into a mind-bending buzz by the time The Good Ship's line crew walked into their favorite Newport Kentucky bar, 'The Pub'.

"Damn Miguel," Rob said. "I know you guys smoke pot all the time, but mushrooms... during dinner service? That's fucking crazy."

Miguel's dilated eyes looked sorrowful. "We thought it was over for the night amigo. We can close on mushrooms man; it's just cleaning and taking out the trash. Besides, I didn't think they would come on so soon. Dees are fresh shrooms, the guy I got them from told me an hour. We took them a half-hour before closing. I wanted them to be coming on when we hit the bar."

"Well, we're at the bar now so how do you feel?" Rob asked.

Miguel smiled slyly with his huge black pupils. "Like firing up this Jelly Bean spliff and getting some shots into that little blonde right there!" Miguel replied, laughing as he pointed to a seriously hot blonde twenty-something server dancing drunkenly.

Rob glanced over at the blonde. Nearly falling as she tried to spin to the music, she caught herself with one hand, spilling her drink in the process. Rob smiled as he watched. The girl's skirt hiked up around her waist like a belt, showing her tanned bottom and pink lace panties unknowingly to the whole bar as she bent over to pick up the glass.

"I see what you mean. Looks like she's gonna' need another drink now," Rob said with a smile.

"Hey man, that's my cue!" Miguel said quickly.

After buying the tipsy server another drink, Miguel took her in hand, waving the other cooks along as he headed to the back alley for a smoke. The crew filed out behind him. The drunken blonde had her arm around Miguel's waist now, happily sucking on her new ten-dollar Long Island.

Sighing with a shake of his head, Rob looked back at his double bourbon on the bar top. As he savored the amber liquid, he remembered those days fondly. Sitting alone, with the crowd roaring around him, he thought back about coming up as a young chef in New York. Cooking long hours in restaurants he couldn't even afford to eat at. Dashing out the back door after service, drinking until daylight around the city haphazardly. Party hopping with other service industry madcaps until dawn, finally crashing on some stranger's futon.

Miguel's antics brought back hazy memories of one-night stands with New York's finest bar sluts, bored martini drunk housewives and hot young power drinking college girls. Rob and his New York culinary cohorts had their share of the wild nightlife, but tonight, that seemed a lifetime ago. Now, sitting alone at the bar on this depressing night in Newport, the only thing that looked good to Rob was the bourbon in front of him.

Out of the blue, a warm hand slid seductively across his back. He felt long fingernails lightly drag across his shirt as he turned to see whom they belonged to.

"What's up my sexy savior?" Sandra asked as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Just lost in thought there for a minute," Rob replied, tipping back his bourbon in one smooth swallow.

"Watcha' thinking about?" she asked as she rubbed his shoulders.

"My youth, life in New York, being broke and bicycling to work seven days a week. Stone broke and nearly starving, I never had it better but didn't even realize it," he replied sorrowfully.

"C'mon Rob, you're a head chef now, at Cincinnati's hottest riverfront restaurant no less. You don't slave on hot stoves, getting burns and blisters. You don't come in at dawn to prep or stay until two in the morning cleaning. Do you really miss that?" she taunted.

"No, but I miss, well... the youth and excitement I had before I..."

Rob was cut short as Miguel bumped into them from behind. Carrying the laughing blonde over his shoulder, he stood smiling at Rob, pointing to his prize.

"Amigo, this is Kelly and she wants to party!" Miguel said, slapping her upturned bottom. "We're all going to my place, you coming?" he asked.

"Yeah, you... coming?" the blonde repeated, looking up at them upside down, slurring with a thick strand of drool swinging from her lips.

"Nah, I'm going home, up early tomorrow. You guys have fun, but if you're late in the morning, don't bother coming in... ever," Rob replied, half seriously.

"Okay amigo," Miguel said. With a wink towards Rob, he slapped the blonde's butt again and headed out the door with his crew. Each towing a drunk server or hostess of their own along for the night.

Rob watched as they headed out the door. With a knowing smile he laughed half-heartedly. Turning back to the bar, he waved at Martinez for another double shot.

"Ah ha... now I think I get what you are sad about," Sandra said slyly. "You're wishing you were hooking up with some young drunk hottie for the night like Miguel now aren't you?"

"It's not that," Rob replied slowly. "I mean, it's just that I don't know what I want... Every girl I meet is just a... Never mind. Hell, I don't even know what I mean."

"Well, I do," Sandra shot back. "Guess what chef? Tonight you are going to get all the woman you can handle. I may be twice her age, and have a few more pounds on Miguel's cute little blondie, but I bet I have a thing or two over her when it comes to good sex. Tonight it's you and me baby," Sandra said as she stood up.

"Thanks Sandra but I don't think that's a good...." Rob trailed off as she interrupted.

"What's the problem Rob? Am I not good looking enough for Mr. New York Chef? Or do only twenty year old drunk blondes turn you on?" Sandra asked, staring with a single eyebrow raised.

Rob laughed. "It's not that Sandra. You're a great looking girl but I..."

With that, she cut him off. "Okay then, it's settled. Drink up, we're leaving too."

She quickly snatched up her shot off the bar as well as Rob's shot of bourbon. Drinking them one after the other, she spun his stool around. Jumping atop his lap, she straddled him, crushing her liquored lips onto his. Running her hand down his loose chef pants, she grabbed him strongly. Instinctually his hands moved around her waist, sliding down to her ample bottom as she broke her kiss and whispered in his ear.

"Let's get out of here Rob, me and you. No Ship, no strings, no regrets, just sex."

How could he say no? Why should he say no? Rob didn't know if it was a good or bad idea, but in his lonely funk, it sounded like the best idea at the moment. Tossing a twenty on the bar, the two disappeared out the front door, making their way to Rob's apartment in the eerily silent pre-dawn fog.
Chapter 3

The morning after, daybreak came earlier than usual, or so it felt to Rob. Cleaned up and at work promptly, he had the kitchen up and running by the time Sandra arrived.

She wanted to feel him out about the night before. How would he react? Was there a relationship to follow their sexual escapade or would Rob avoid her in uncomfortable nervousness? She dared not provoke him, not today. The Good Ship's obnoxious owner would be personally entertaining guests tonight. His black BMW would be pulling in at seven. Tonight had to be a show of perfection, even if it was just a show, for all of their sakes.

Walking into the kitchen, Sandra's stride was full of intentional calm and confidence.

"Feeling refreshed chef?" she taunted Rob.

"I'm good, I'm good," he replied, avoiding her eyes.

"Great!" she said enthusiastically. "Because Ralph and his golf buddies are dining here tonight."

Rob looked at her disappointed as the words left her lips.

She sympathized. "I know, I know, we all loathe the site of Ralph's sorry ass but he owns the joint so we gotta' suck it up and woo him well tonight."

She looked at Rob, eyebrows high, as if waiting for agreement. Rob didn't bother to look over.

"We will, the food will be perfect, I'm cooking alongside the team tonight," he replied.

His surprising answer could not have satisfied her more.

"You? Are cooking on the line tonight? Awesome!" she exclaimed. "I'll put Ellen on his table, I want our best server concerned with nothing other than waiting on his ass."

Pausing his work, Rob shot her an aggravated stare. "But Ralph never pays for his food... It's Saturday night and every other server out there will walk with at least two fifty, what if Ellen gets shafted by that bastard?" You can't let him screw her over. She's the best server on the floor, we can't risk losing her."

Rob's consideration was valid and Sandra knew it. Too often Ralph had showed up at The Ship, dragging a new girl in tow. He expected the staff to help him impress her into bed. Never mind his wife, never mind the extra effort from the kitchen, never mind paying the bill, and worst of all, never mind tipping. Sandra knew, of all the servers on staff, Ellen was special. In this business she was an accredited 'rock star.' The highest compliment awarded to any professional server by their peers.

Ellen had been overweight since she was a teenager. At 23 she paused her English college degree in order to care for her aging, failing health, veteran father. A Viet Cong mine left Sgt. Marco Addison with both legs removed at the knees, wheel chair bound for life. Time and sorrow had taken their toll on his body, his pride and his sanity. Now, he was a shadow of the strong confident man that raised Ellen in his family home outside the city. The last two years, he required tremendous toil and ceaseless effort to remain reasonably happy and somewhat healthy. Ellen's mother had passed away decades ago, so long ago Ellen could barely remember her, leaving Marco to raise Ellen alone after she died.

These days, Ellen felt like she was raising him. The time it took to work, provide all of the income, clean, cook, taxi to pharmacies, plus schedule transportation, doctor appointments and dialysis three days a week used up all of her free time. She had no time for friends, or a boyfriend. Ellen was a solitary soul. The last two years of full time nursemaid left her with little motivation to do anything outside of work other than eat dinner alone in her room, reading Kindle books and watching Netflix, slowly packing on more pounds month by month.

Today, at age 26, Ellen was obviously over 200 lbs. Even she couldn't say for sure, as she abandoned scales years ago. Standing in the mirror, she never looked closely at her body, only her face and hair. Her figure was well hidden under mounds of fat. Even she couldn't bear to look at her growing body at times without tearing.

Her college part time server job had become a full time career since arriving on The Ship. Her father's failing health had resigned her hopeful English career to working as a professional server until... Until her dad was gone. Her eye's always filled with tears at the thought. She had planned to finish her degree long ago. Now, years after leaving school to care for him, she had her doubts she would ever return. She had accepted her fate to live life as a simple server. Embracing her circumstances, she dedicated herself to becoming not just a server, but the best server.

At work, she was a total pro. But her home life was an odd mix of childlike happiness and dark loneliness. She enjoyed the times with Marco when they played Trivial Pursuit, watched movies together, and talked about life in between. However, when Marco was drinking, he wasn't fun to be around. During those times, he sat silent and sullen on the sofa. Sometimes when particularly drunk, he would yell at her with terrible hate, his eyes glaring with heartless meanness. Complaining cruelly about some insignificant issue, or impatient request she had forgotten seemed to always follow an empty twelve-pack.

Ellen never complained, or voiced her concerns to him. She did her best just to keep him comfortable and happy. Lately, she avoided him altogether whenever he drank. Keeping to her room, she waited out the course of the alcohol. She spent many nights alone reading romance novels by candlelight and dreaming fruitlessly of a love to come someday. She never dared to confront her dad about his drinking, nor the mess that followed the morning after. She allowed him to do as he pleased, even though the cost and toil of cleaning up after his drunken late nights were always solely her responsibility.

At work, she was the complete opposite; no other server could touch her. When it came to cool headed quick thinking service, Ellen reined supreme. Unlike the other servers, she avoided the gossip spewing cigarette breaks where the girls dished out the dope on The Ship's latest secret sex adventures, scandals and juicy news. Ellen didn't fit the click. She was the silent pro. She worked her tables with quiet professionalism. She could easily work her own tables, and help the slower servers from getting in the weeds. Truth be told, they all relied on her. She opened on the weekdays and closed every weekend, silently fulfilling her duties and then some. For the second night in a row, she worked the dinner service from four to close. She knew it would be a long night at work as she left the apartment.

Arriving a few minutes early for the dinner shift, Ellen noticed Sandra at the bar.

"Elle' honey," Sandra called. "I need you to push tables 22 and 23 together. Set them up perfect. Clean under and around the tables, polish every glass, re-iron all the linens, and make sure the best flowers are in the vases."

Ellen looked curious. "We have a private party? I didn't see it in the reservations," she asked.

"Ralph and his cohorts are coming," Sandra replied quickly under her breath. "I need you to cover 22 with your full attention. No other tables matter as much as this one; I need you focused on Ralph's party tonight."

Ellen looked back at Sandra with a sad sigh. "I can't lose a whole Saturday night's money on one small party. Plus, he's a cheap ass and he's gonna' screw me," Ellen scowled. Deep lines formed on her forehead as she went on to explain her recent problems.

"My dad's wheel chair broke and the VA won't buy another. I had to buy one from the pharmacy yesterday, a hundred and eighty bucks. I need to make that back plus three hundred more just to pay our bills. We need groceries too. I have rent, plus expensive co-pays on his medications... Not to mention cab fare for work next week," Ellen said, looking at Sandra pleadingly.

"I understand honey, I do. I will make it up to you, look we really need you for this," Sandra said as she patted Ellen's shoulder. "Do you really think I'm going to put Charley or Heather on that table?"

Ellen stared back in near tears as Sandra went on. "Heather can barely handle her tables as it is. Charley will end up pissing them off if Ralph's latest hump gets jealous and belittles her. Ralph can't keep his hands of Charley half of the time. She will hardly even walk near him anymore. After a bottle of champagne, Ralph will maul her right at the table and all hell will break loose. Then you can bet he won't leave us a dime. Ellen, honey, I really need you on this."

With her best pleading look, Sandra waited for her reply.

"I guess you're right," Ellen replied. "I'm the fat one no one wants to paw at and I can serve them plus my other tables without screwing it up... Right?"

Sandra felt bad. With a hug she whispered in Ellen's ear. "Ellen you are a beautiful person, don't ever think for a second you're not. You're the best server here, that's all it is."

Ellen walked away silently to get the table ready. Sandra kept thinking about the conversation. She knew Ellen had problems. She had watched her slowly get bigger since they met at the opening nearly two years ago. Sandra had once been the same caliber of rock star server Ellen was. The difference was that Sandra had always been attractive. Her chocolate eyes, dark hair and bronze complexion gave her an exotic Spanish look. Her form was voluptuously sexy and her fashion sense had always kept her looking modern and fresh. Many compliments and many more thousands in gracious tips had came her way from those good looks over her years of table service. Watching Ellen walk away, she wondered how she would have fared if she had lacked all that sexual attractiveness as Ellen did.

After years of serving, Sandra finally moved into the manager position. The varicose veins from years of running food were beginning to show through her dark skin. The wrinkles in her once flawless face told the tale of late bar nights, followed by too many early morning openings. She wasn't the sexy young thing she once was by any means. How did Rob see her? Did he only think of her as a professional peer and now an alcohol induced one-night stand? She was wondering what last night had meant to Rob when she heard her name being yelled from the bar.

"Sandra!" Heather shouted. "Tell Charley she can't take the whole patio and her section too. I always have half the patio when I'm on this section. That snotty bitch is out there greeting guests at my tables!"

Looking at the patio, Sandra watched Charley laughing with a pair of handsome customers in Heather's section. Heather stood with her arms crossed, staring at Charley through the window.

As Charley walked inside, Sandra spoke up with authority. "Charley, you split the patio. It's not yours to rule as you please. You have the port side, and Heather has the starboard side. That's how it has always been and you know that."

Charley tossed the men's drink orders towards Heather across the bar top. Snarling her perfectly painted lips, she stomped off, mumbling under her breath.

In the kitchen, Rob was in a deep self-reflective groove. Miguel felt almost un-needed as Rob continually pulled the tickets over to his side of the line. Calmly he cooked each item as if it were for a Top Chef finale, delicately decorating each plate with precision.

"What's up amigo?" Miguel asked.

"Owner is dining tonight," Rob replied. "We need tonight to come off perfect, every table, no complaints, no delays, no returns. Let's get in the groove now while it's early, set the tone for the whole night," he explained.

Miguel understood. "Okay amigo, you got eet."

Rob wanted to be sure. "Listen up! No mistakes tonight! Micah, no smoke till we're done! Army that goes for you too! Keep these pans stocked well and we need every plate polished, perfect, comprende?" Rob asked.

"Sí, sí," Armando called back.

Hearing nothing from the hippie, Rob looked at Micah as he fumbled with his headphones.

Micah noticed his eyes on him and nodded. "Yeah sure man, no smoke, everything perfect, I got it."

After a nod back from the rest of the crew, Rob resumed his plating.
Chapter 4

The dinner crowd hit harder than usual. The sunshine filled the patio with diners and the dining room was running out of tables. Rob asked Sandra how many seats were left open.

"None," she replied in haste as she stacked plates on her arms. "We're on a wait already."

Glancing at the clock, Rob knew tonight would be a full throttle fight to the finish.

Sandra called a quick service meeting.

"This is it people, we are running full bore. Ralph is here so I need you all at your best tonight. Charley... knock off the attitude for a few hours. Don't snarl your lips, roll your eyes, or stare with your mouth open as if everyone disgusts you. Heather, lose the gum and try to do more listening than talking. Make sure you ring in every order correctly too. Jules, keep the service orders priority. The bar customers will wait, they have those long legs and that nice butt of yours to keep them patient. I need you to get the drinks to the servers ASAP all night. Charley, Heather, any orders in the window you see from Ellen's table 22 run it to the table. Her 22 has priority over all others tonight. That's it. I expect zero drama from any of you. Tonight we shine."

Obviously angered, Charley stomped out of the kitchen meeting.

"We're gonna' be slammed all night. Why should I run Ellen's food? She can run her own damn food!" she mumbled to herself in a huff.

Charley had been envious of Ellen since their first service together. Ellen was continually given her choice of the best sections and the best hours, earning her the highest pay. Unlike all other servers, Ellen even had manager level access to the computer. Charley despised her. She thought of Ellen as a fat, un-fashionable, intrusion to her world on The Ship. Double her weight, albino pale in comparison and naturally shy, Ellen was a stark contrast to the tan, toned, raven-haired Charley.

Men and women alike, everyone agreed Charley was the looker on The Ship. Always tanned, Charley's daily work out regime rewarded her with well-toned legs, firm hips and a perfect figure. With her natural round full pert breasts and long luxurious salon styled black hair she was a stunning beauty. She was alluring to most any man. A closer look revealed a snotty, rude, selfish bitch.

Charley cared about nothing or no one, except serving her own desires, no matter the cost, or sacrifice. Her flawless petite body and constantly refreshed makeup were more than enough to instantly attract attention her way. Once you got to know her true self, her bitch-to-the-bone personality explained what was really going on behind her sexy dark eyes. She loathed everyone, everyone except herself and men who offered her something more expensive than she could afford.

"What gives with that girl? Why is she always such a bitch?" Jules asked Heather.

"Charley?" Heather asked.

"She's been a bitch since high school. I think it's because her mom never paid much attention to her," she replied with a shrug as she leaned on the bar. "Her mom always left her home alone while she went out bar hopping the hot spots, trying to marry a Bengal or something. A few years ago she married an old rich guy. Now she's loaded and lives in California. She moved off and left Charley here fending for herself. Charley is probably pissed she still has to work like the rest of us just to get by. I think she resents her mom for not taking her with her. I'm sure she wanted in on her mom's Malibu lifestyle but wasn't offered to move in."

"Or she is just envious she didn't meet the guy before her mom did," Jules shot back with a laugh.

"Yeah, she probably would marry some grey haired grandpa if he had enough dough to throw at her," Heather said, laughing out loud as she gathered her drinks from Jules.

Charley noticed the two laughing as they glanced her way. "What's the joke?" Charley asked, as she stopped at the bar with a steely stare.

"Nothing really," Heather replied, stacking her drinks on a tray. "I was telling Jules about that guy that comes in and sips on a bowl of soup for two hours, just so he can stare at you."

Charley scowled. "Oh, yeah, that guy is like creepy. He sits here for hours and asks me for like twenty packs of crackers, one at a time. I think he's some kinda' perv."

Heather shot Jules a wink over Charley's shoulder as she took her drinks and walked to the table.

"He may be a perv, but he's a rich perv!" Jules said without looking at Charley. "That's the same guy that used to come into the bar I worked at in Mason. He had a thing for a server there too. She kind of looked like you Charley, dark hair, real tan and fit... Anyway, he used to nearly beg her to go on vacation with him. People said he has a huge yacht in Miami. I think he was some tech stock nerd investor and cashed out ten years ago before that shit crashed. I heard he has millions."

Charley's face never changed but her tone gave her away. "Really? I don't see it. I mean, if he has money he sure doesn't look it."

Behind her black eyes, Jules could see the wheels in Charley's head spinning. She knew the jest was working.

"You never know, maybe he does it so girls won't think he has money... Maybe he's waiting for true love," Jules teased.

The ruse had Charley biting her long painted nail, the telltale sign of her twisted thinking mode. Jules smiled to herself at the silly seed they had planted in Charley's mind. All a lie of course, but it would be amusing to watch Charley's reaction to the odd usually avoided patron now.

Walking with quick steps to the hostess desk, Charley snapped to get Amy's attention.

"Amy, you know that weirdo soup guy?" Charley asked, with her hand on her hip.

"The nerdy guy that always eats alone?" Amy asked as she marked her floor chart.

"Yeah," Charley replied. "If he comes in again, seat him in my section from now on," she said to the teenage hostess.

"Uh, okay, I thought you hated him," Amy shot back confused.

"I do, but he likes me more than these other bitches so why not keep him a happy customer right?" Charley said smugly as she walked off.

Heather and Jules's tall tale had Charley thinking she had a rich, single, potential provider in her midst all along and didn't even know it.

In the kitchen, Rob was deep into the dinner rush. Between orders, he thought back to Sandra and last night. He remembered the sight of her stripping once inside the door. Pushing plates together for the order in the window, he thought about how exciting she looked in the nude as she jumped on the bed and fell back, motioning to Rob to come join her. He had no idea what a seductress had been lurking behind her no nonsense manager persona all this time.

The past 34 years had been good to Sandra. Her belly was tight with slightly rippled abs. Her thighs were flab free. Her round bottom was perfectly matched to her full hips. Smiling to himself, thinking about their late night romantic rendezvous, he looked up as she came in through the swinging doors.

Rob was still picturing her naked as he slid the last plate on the order into the window. Loading her arms with plates, Sandra smiled as Rob shot her an unexpected wink. Watching her as she pushed passed the swinging doors, he stared at her form from behind. It was hard to believe such a great body was hidden under those unattractive work pants. Trying to recall the blurred details of the affair, he didn't even notice Heather waiting for her food. Looking up at her, he nodded in deep thought. Stacking the first of Heather's plates, his mind was fixed on last night. Sandra liked it on top, on bottom and anything in between. She ate up everything he could give her, and begged for more. She was quite talented in bed.

"How long had it been since she had sex? Weeks, months... years?" He pondered the question as he pushed Heather's order together in the pass.

Casual sex partners were commonplace in the restaurant business, but Rob could remember no one landing Sandra on a date, nor her ever mentioning a boyfriend in the two years they had worked together. He wondered why she chose to make such a bold move with him so suddenly. Maybe she needed the sex as much as he needed the relief? Or perhaps she harbored true feelings for him for some time? Did she use his semi-drunk exhausted state to lure him into her life? Would she have expectations now? And the big question... Was she what he really needed at this point in his struggling life?

So far Rob's sex life had been dotted with a meaningless string of cute bartenders and hot hard drinking servers. None of which ever materialized into anything more than casual sex. Was a real relationship the very thing his subconscious had been yearning for? He knew he was yearning for something different in a woman, but what? Was this a simple one-night affair, or the beginning of a steady thing? Struggling with the notion, he heard a familiar sound... buzz dit dit dit buzz dit dit dit... more dinner orders were coming in.

"Get ready Miguel... it's not slowing down," Rob said, while pulling tickets off the buzzing printer.

"I'm all good amigo! Eets all right over here. Micah ees good. The crew ees ready. We are all good," Miguel replied with authority.

Instantly the kitchen flew into full throttle pedal to the floor action. Flames shot up from Miguel's grill, searing steaks, lamb chops, ribs and luscious chicken halves into smoky deliciousness. Micah's sauté pans sang out with a sizzle as he tossed fat shrimp into the rippling skim of garlic infused olive oil. The other crewmembers darted and dashed like mad dancers as they pushed the orders out.

Pans clattered behind the line, clanging loudly like a box of tin buckets falling down metal stairs. Slinging long strands out of a $78 bottle of hand-pressed olive oil high into the air, Micah slung the golden stream across six pans simultaneously. Dancing to the tunes on his headphones, he took control of his sauté station with flair. All twelve burners were loaded now, crowded to the limit. Like a concert piano player, he played his station with both hands; flash searing veggies and seafood with expert technique.

Rob couldn't help but laugh as he watched Micah dancing in front of the burners, his iPhone earplugs pushing the Grateful Dead deep into his brain all the while during the mad rush. Whimsically dancing in place to "Shakedown Street" Live 74'...

"Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart... Well, well, well, you can never tell..." he sang as he danced.

Rob noticed Micah quietly singing the words as Armando whisked past him hurriedly. Stacking clean plates, pans and kitchen tools into place, he was keeping the cooks well stocked. Rob felt confident; the crew was in the zone.
Chapter 5

The sun had not even set, yet The Ship was at full steam as the orders continued streaming out of the printer. Miguel wiped his brow from behind the grill. Picking out the words rib eye, filet, salmon, ribs and chicken out of the torrent of entrees Rob was calling out.

To a stranger, the rows of sizzling meat smoking on the grill would look utterly confusing as to which order they went with. To Miguel, it was second nature. Fresh orders landed on the far right side of the grill, the hottest side. After a quick sear, they were moved to the middle, over a slightly cooler flame. Next, the meat was moved to the coolest far left side for last second grill marks and finishing. After it was perfectly marked, Miguel placed it on the plate for Rob at the pass. A simple pattern, many find impossible to master.

Prodding the meat with an experienced thumb, Miguel instantly knew the internal temperature by the touch. He knew how to cook any item correctly and quickly. A rare steak, a long sear on both sides on the hottest part of the grill and serve. If it was ordered Medium, go from a hot side sear to the middle. If it was ordered well done, a quick hot side sear and straight to the coolest corner of the far left side, then covered. As Rob double-checked the doneness at the pass, he found every steak temperature perfectly spot on.

Miguel's grill was loaded. Every available inch was covered. Only when food went off to the pass was there room for another new order. He was a mad man grill machine, chucking savory smoky perfection onto the plates like clockwork. It was exactly why Rob had so much tolerance and patience for Miguel's indiscretions, same with Micah. Neither would fold tonight, especially after a fine night of beer and blondes. They were in perfect form, mentally and physically to handle the pressure. Tonight they were ready for anything the printer could spew at them.

Cooking at this pace required nerves of steel. One missed protein could set an order back 10 minutes or more, leaving the other steaming hot dishes on that ticket left to sit and wait, losing quality rapidly with every passing minute. Wonderful dishes cooked perfectly would be dying in the window. Meat keeps cooking on the plate. Shrimp get tough. Steaks change temperature from rare to medium rare. Fish dries out, breading gets soggy. Rob would have none of that.

Everyone on the line knew if they screw up a dish on a twelve-ticket order and set the line back, it would anger their fellow cooks, not to mention piss off Rob royally. Piss him off too much and you get to do all the end of shift cleaning for the crew as they clock out and slip into the night early. There was no room in this kitchen for wanna-be cooks. This was a high-pressure line running a skeleton crew. Anyone lacking hardened nerves and razor sharp skills would cause an inevitable crash.

This would not happen tonight. Rob was aware of how important The Ship's showing would have to be to please Ralph. He knew Ralph wouldn't appreciate the perfection of the food, nor notice the lack of any customer returns. Nevertheless, Rob was a pro. Therefore, he simply must pull off the perfect night, not so much for Ralph, but rather in spite of him.

Rob's intense professionalism and creativity had propelled The Ship to the popularity it was enjoying. Of all the finer restaurants in the city, let alone Riverboat Row, The Ship was fast becoming the top venue. Critic reviews had sang sweet praises of Rob's cuisine in every rag and blog in town. Ralph knew the success was due to Rob's talent and drive, but would never admit it out loud. To him, everyone was expendable and he wanted the crew to know it.

The Ship was sailing smooth in the galley as Sandra came hustling in.

Yelling over the bang of the line, she looked terrified. "Rob! I need another well-done filet right away! Charley dropped it at the table and the lady looked like she wanted to spit in her face."

"Sure Sandy! I happen to have one right here in my pocket!" Rob replied sarcastically.

"C'mon Rob, you have to help us out here," Sandra said in despair.

Rob looked at the row of fluttering tickets on the rail and found an order with a filet mignon three orders back. He had just enough time to squeeze a new one onto that order without holding up the other dishes on the ticket.

"Miguel, put table seven's filet on an app plate and start another on the fly."

Turning to Rob, Miguel already had it plated. "Eets already working amigo, I heard her. I can think too you know," he replied proudly, with a bit of jest for good measure.

"I love ya' Miguel," Sandra said as she grabbed the sizzling filet and dashed back to the dining room.

Rob imagined what the service floor must be like right now. He could feel the server's pain dealing with customer's ridiculous order requests.

Ridiculous customer: "I would like a grilled chicken salad... no chicken, no dressing, no eggs."

Aggravated server: "Sure... That would be a house salad."

Ridiculous customer: "No, I don't want a house salad, I want the grilled chicken salad, just without the chicken, egg and dressing."

Aggravated server: "No problem miss. Chef will be delighted to make you just what pleases you."

Aggravated server: "No problem sir, chef would gladly substitute the white sauce for red, and the salmon for tuna, and the asparagus for broccoli and add a poached egg on the side... and may I have our mixologist at the bar alter the shade and intensity of the caramel color in your Coke to your liking? We have all the time in the world, the entire staff is here tonight just to please you..."

The hurried servers were often faced with ridiculous requests from customers. In a busy rush, it slowed the pace of the entire process badly as the server had to take the time to explain repeatedly to an unwilling, argumentative customer why they cannot substitute everything on an order. Only to again explain the heavily altered order to the cooks. Nevertheless, they were faced with the problem on any given night. They stood and listened to the demanding requests politely. All the while smiling, wanting desperately to say...

"Did you enjoy your personally created off-menu meal tonight? Great! Well, goodnight... and from the whole staff... Fuck you sir, and fuck you miss. And fuck your little pocket dog too."

Words never said, but often on the tips of the server's tongues as they listened to diners trying to manipulate every aspect of their order to their own outlandish specifications.
Chapter 6

Cooks are commonly pirates, thieves, drunks and drug addicts. Servers are usually a loathsome lot. The drugs and alcohol still reign supreme with them as well, but with a large measure of gossip and mind games added to the mix. The Good Ship's crew was no exception. Her service roster was well stocked with an eclectic collection of emotional and social disorders.

There were the 'kids' in the crew as usual. Teen cuties that didn't think too hard manned the hostess desk. There was Ben; the manicured nailed metro sexual 20-year-old bus boy that was obsessed with Facebook, Doctor Who and New Girl. He never spoke much about anything else, always managed to avoid getting a single stain on his clothes, and never, ever, hurried.

There was the usual plethora of alcoholic addict servers, living from night to night on their tips. Blowing a hundred or more on high-powered pills and stiff drinks immediately after work. Somehow managing to scrape together enough for rent and bills in a last minute furious weekend hustle.

Then there were the over stressed mom servers. They had fewer drug and alcohol issues but what they lacked in sinful indulgence they made up for with non-stop trickery, bitchery, and emotional blackmail. Always with the last minute demands.

"I need extra tables this weekend because my 37 month old needs..."

"I need off on Friday because my six year old has to go to the..."

"My sitter leaves at ten so I need out early on Saturday..."

"I can't work that shift... nor Thursday lunches, next weekend, or during any of our soccer games."

They were a royal pain in their own right.

Most servers fell into those three categories; crazed alcoholic/addict slut singles, bitchy whining demanding moms or stupid silly kids. Not just on The Ship, it was simply the industry standard.

Then there was Ellen.

Ellen was neither a crazed addict nor a whining mom. She wasn't a drinker or a drug fan and she didn't even smoke. Far from a kid, and rarely bitchy, she was the last server you would notice in the dining room. Yet, every staff member knew Ellen was the one who would save your ass if the whole Ship hit the rocks and dived straight into the weeds.

If you were dining in Ellen's section, the only signs of a full on crash would be the other diners seated around you. You would be relaxing in fine fashion, all the while listening and watching as other customers raged and fumed as they waited, and waited, and waited. If your food were running late, Ellen would just peek in at the kitchen progress. If she saw the ticket dragging, she would grab a salad, soup or slice of pie and present it to you saying, "Your chicken's looking a little late sir. How about some delicious homemade soup while you wait for your meal?" Or, "I know you didn't order a salad but the tomatoes are so ripe today and you have to try our homemade dressing, courtesy of us of course. All apologies on the unusual wait time."

She knew as long as her hungry customers had something, anything, to eat, they would be patiently pleased, and tip accordingly. With a strong repertoire of time tested techniques and pro tactics, Ellen had the grace and experience to coax out the best tips imaginable, even in a sudden storm. In a serious breakdown, other servers had to face angry diners and even dreaded walkouts, yet Ellen would be counting twenties by the dozen.

Ellen wasn't noticed often. She was overweight, under-dressed and wore little if any makeup. She dressed to hide her body as opposed to show it off. She preferred to not be noticed. She avoided gossip but often took silent witness as Charley put on a breast show in the face of a good-looking wealthy customer.

Charley often used her form to lure compliments from patrons. Like when a semi-famous ball player came in one Saturday night. Charley would brush him with her butt every time she turned. Or reach over him to pick up a finished plate, casually pressing her breasts into his arm. The crew knew her antics well. She was the topic of gossip more often than not. Ellen noticed as much or more than the other servers but never spoke a word of it.

Regular trips to the salon and constantly shopping for new clothes kept Charley in high fashion. Her relentless hunt for a sugar daddy was never ending. Since The Ship opened, more than a few wealthy men had taken her home, shagged the snot out of her and sent her on her way with a, "I'll call you..." yet nothing ever materialized.

Ellen thought of her as nothing more than a snobby slut. Several male employees had taken a fancy to date her in the past. Charley always blew off any attention or sexual remarks from the staff. Ellen knew Charley would never give any of them the time of day, as they were too poor for her to even consider.

Rarely, but on occasion Ellen was envious of Charley's allure. When The Good Ship first opened, Ellen found herself attracted to a young aspiring chef named Kilgore. She often spoke with him on breaks and she felt he was the first real, down to earth, respectable man she had met in a long time. He was always polite and never crude or dirty like the other cooks. One day, Ellen found herself elated after Kilgore invited her to a party at his new apartment, along with all the other servers.

Ellen was so excited over the prospect; she broke her strict budget and bought a new outfit for the promising occasion. She spent the entire day trying on clothes at four different downtown stores. Hoping desperately to find something that didn't make her look as large as she felt. Nothing trendy fit, and the stuff that did fit was not nearly as appealing as the clothes Charley and Sandra wore.

Walking from one store to the next, Ellen finally settled on an outfit. After doing her best to arrange her hair, she put on make-up and painted her lips for the first time in a long time. She donned her modest jewelry then looked at herself in the mirror. She was still unhappy with her reflection. She wondered why she should even bother trying as she slumped back onto her bed.

The notion of a night with a man she was attracted to was simply too enticing to pass up. She re-styled her hair two more times, then settled on just leaving it as it was the first time. Heading out to the party in her new $127 clothes, excitement flushed her skin. She felt alive and vibrant like she never had before.

She managed to pay fifty bucks to a VA home care worker to stay with her dad until 1 a.m. She realized almost two hundred dollars had been spent on preparations as she paid the cabbie. Kilgore lived in a newly remodeled loft apartment in Cincinnati's trendy Over-The-Rhine district. Walking in nervously, Ellen was welcomed. Seeing all her co-workers, she felt more at ease than she did in the cab ride over. She carried wine in her hand as a gift, using her fine dining training to pick out a decent label for under twenty dollars.

She feigned interest in the stories the girls told in the gossip group, tonight, she wanted to fit in. All the while, she was hoping to get a chance to talk to Kilgore alone.

"What will I say? Should I tell him I like him? No! God no... Just listen, ask about his family, his interests, first feel him out, get to know him, then... then what?" she thought to herself.

She had zero experience talking to guys in regards to dating. She was tingling with nervousness as the thoughts passed through her mind.

As the party paired off into couples and clicks, Ellen found Kilgore alone. He was in the kitchen making chicken wings for his guests. She helped him sauce the big bowl of crispy wings from the fryer. In the kitchen alone, close beside him, she felt this was her chance.

"Hey Elle," he said as she began to help. " Thanks for coming out. Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm not much of a party person, but since you invited me, I really wanted to come," she replied, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Well, there are plenty of snacks and these wings are great. Make yourself at home, stop working and just relax for a bit."

She watched, listened, and even participated in a few conversations, but Kilgore never singled her out or engaged her one on one again. Nibbling on a wing, she watched him with longing eyes from the living room.

"God I'm so stupid!" she thought. "I should have kept his attention in the kitchen. Maybe I should have been more aggressive. Maybe I should have spoke up about my interest. But would he simply reject me instantly? Embarrass me in front of all my co-workers? I would have cried!"

Intensely watching him from across the room, her mind overloaded with nervousness and panicked pressure to speak up. Yet she stood silent.

Ellen noticed it was nearly midnight and the VA worker would be leaving at one. She worried, could she leave her dad there alone? Was he asleep for the night, or drunk and angrily waiting for her? She had not left him alone since finding him on the floor months ago, unable to move from a mild stroke. She needed to make her move now or give up and go home.

Just then, Ellen noticed Kilgore talking secretively to Miguel. Then Kilgore went into the bedroom with a nod and a smile. "Was he coming back out, was he doing drugs? Should I just leave?" she wondered.

Brazen with nervous courage and desperately wanting to know what was going on, Ellen walked cautiously to the bedroom door. It was almost closed but not latched. She pushed it open, just a sliver, peering inside. In the dim light she could see Kilgore standing by the bed with his back to her. Straining to see more, she pushed the door open a little wider. As more came into view, she saw him tilt his head back, arms stretched in front of him, holding Charley's hair in a ponytail as she bobbed her head between his legs. Instantly, tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly, she turned and ran out of the apartment, down the street in no particular direction, crying uncontrollably. Her entire idea of what kind of guy Kilgore really was had been instantly destroyed, smashed to pieces, along with her foolish dream of dating him.

The next day at work, she found out Miguel had told Charley Kilgore was working as a chef out of pure personal interest. He told her Kilgore had received a large settlement from an inheritance and didn't need to ever work again. Miguel knew Charley would drop her panties fast for a shot at any rich guy, let alone a handsome popular one her own age. It was all a ruse to give Kilgore a night of free hot sex, and pull one over on snotty Charley.

Charley learned the truth the following day as well and refused to speak to Kilgore again. Shortly after, Kilgore moved on to another job and Ellen had learned a lesson, an affirmation that guys are only interested in sex with the hottest girl they can muster at the time and have no concern for feelings, let alone relationships. Her robust figure effectively kept away the one-night stands, and so far, that was fine with her. But back there, high in that modern loft apartment, she almost let the exciting notion of dating fool her into thinking she had an equal chance at romance.

Looking back she realized, that's just not so. She was doomed to just work and live a solitary life caring for her dad. Maybe that's why she was so good at her job. It was really all she had, that and her midnight fantasies.

After Kilgore left The Ship, Rob replaced him. The crew waited with great anticipation for the New York chef that was coming to captain them. On the first day of his arrival, Rob's handsome looks, good build, dark hair, friendly smile and kind eyes attracted her right off. At first sight, he stirred Ellen. Over the past two years she had watched him with growing interest, her infatuation increasing month by month.

She was initially drawn to his good looks. But now, two years later she had come to know Rob better. The more she learned, the more she liked him. He didn't flirt with the pretty servers and bartenders as most cooks did. He didn't brag or boast as most other chefs did either. Ellen could see behind his kind eyes he was an honest soul, the type of man she always wanted. He kept pretty much to himself, aside from meeting after the restaurant closed at the crew's favorite local bar, The Pub. She longed to discover more.

Ellen never bothered to express her feelings. Her traumatic experience with Kilgore caused her to be gun-shy of attempting to initiate a date. Not to mention, since Rob's arrival, many girls had flirted with him in an attempt to date him, none were successful to her knowledge. She watched him with longing in her eyes as he worked. She dared not mention a word of her feelings to anyone, especially Rob. She was certain if the pretty servers couldn't manage a date, she didn't have a shot in hell.

Nonetheless, her attraction to him grew stronger with each passing day. He became the sole object of her desire, and the focus of her fantasies. A fantasy she kept all to herself. Her most vulnerable secret she kept wrapped tight inside her private thoughts.

Other than in passing and during food service, she rarely had the chance to speak to Rob. But when she did, she felt he was always a little more kind to her than the other females onboard, more polite and understanding. She didn't take it as a sign of interest, more of a sign of sympathy, for her size no doubt. Or maybe it was respect for her professionalism. That was her best hope. She was well aware customers and co-workers ridiculed her looks behind her back, she was certain Rob was aware as well. Even if it was sympathy, it delighted her every time he took her side in an argument, or singled her out for a special task. That was always the highlight of her day.

Ellen looked forward to the brief conversations with Rob, and any moment spent one on one with him. In her heart, she knew she had a crush that would never come to anything, but with nothing else remotely close to a love interest in her life, she reveled in every second of their communication. Even though her job paid well, it was the fact that Rob was employed there that kept Ellen from quitting time and time again after the hurtful remarks and laughs at her expense were realized. She had no hope of ever actually dating him, but the notion of simply seeing him each day was enough to fill her with excitement, and keep her working on The Ship.
Chapter 7

Tonight, Ellen had no time to ponder love interests or romance. She was hustling. Taking care of her tables was an easy task. However, being the strongest server in the crew, she was constantly called on by Sandra.

"Ellen honey... grab more bread for seven, Heather is swamped... Ellen darling, Charley needs refills on fourteen, can you help her out?"

It wasn't a request. Between helping the weaker servers and her own tables, she hardly even noticed Ralph and his party come in. As Ralph arrived, Sandra spoke with an anxious tone.

"Ellen, Ralph is here with his guests. They are seated now; get their drink orders ASAP. Rob has a special appetizer for them, just ring in 'Ralph appetizer' under specials, he will know."

"Joy," Ellen thought. "Here we go, Ralph The Ridiculous, entertaining guests in my section."

She knew Ralph would inevitably get drunk and show off. Assuring his guests that not only did he own the place but ran it with an iron fist as well. He always made certain to belittle his employees in front of his guests. Ellen knew she needed to treat him with caution, attend to him with care but keep her distance. Ralph was well known to embarrass, yell at, fondle, and even fire servers on the spot when he was heavily 'entertained'. Ellen had too many bills and too many responsibilities to ruin her job over Ralph. He'd never shown her attention before, so she felt she didn't really need to worry. Nevertheless, Ralph was unpredictable and would likely get drunk, so all bets were off.

At the bar, Ellen waited for Jules to make the drinks.

"Hey Elle' guess what?" Jules asked.

Before Ellen could reply, Jules leaned closer.

"I just found out Sandra went home from The Pub last night with Rob. I heard they looked pretty cozy. Sounds like they may be a 'thing' now," she said with a wink.

Scowling silently over the rumor, Ellen gathered the drinks for Ralph's table. Charley read the table's ticket over her shoulder and spoke up.

"I'll help with that Ellen," she said.

Instantly annoyed, Ellen almost blurted out at her. "I don't need your help, especially with six drinks," but stopped, wondering what her angle was. She might have known, Charley chose only the drinks for Ralph and his new friend from his Pro-Am golf tournament. A handsome Jordanian playboy known as "George." He was rumored to have come from oil money and certainly appeared rich. His five thousand dollar shoes and sleek black Armani suit gave him a suave gangster look. His thick gold & diamond rings, cufflinks and glittering Rolex showed he was wearing more money than servers make in a year. Ellen decided not to concern herself with Charley and let her serve the drinks without a fuss.

As the two placed the drinks on the table, Ellen spoke first.

"We have an off-menu appetizer coming shortly. Chef Rob is creating it special for your enjoyment tonight. Does anyone need anything else while it's being prepared?"

Ralph hastily blew off Ellen with a wave and then prodded George's arm, glancing at Charley.

"This is Charley," Ralph said to him coyly. "She's our best waitress... and quite a looker as well."

Overhearing his remark, Charley smiled.

"Hello. If you desire anything just let me know," she said, smiling straight at George while Ralph looked on.

Charley walked away, swaying her hips more than usual.

Ralph leaned over whispering. "Just look at that ass... twenty-four and ripe. I can introduce you two if you like..."

George subtly smiled with a nod, sitting back sipping his drink.

Realizing no one was looking at Ellen anymore, nor cared to hear from her, she walked back to the kitchen to see about this 'special' appetizer.

"She is such a bitch. 'If you desire anything else'... God I hate her! I hate this job, I hate my life..." Ellen murmured to herself as she trekked back to the kitchen.

She didn't crave the kind of attention Charley wanted, but she didn't like being invisible either. She would be damned if Charley thought she had any right to her tip for bringing two glasses to her table, assuming there was a tip at all. Ralph was famous for not tipping his servers, even with multiple guests and several hundred dollar tabs.

Standing at the pass, Ellen waited for Rob's attention.

"Chef," she called out. "Chef!" getting louder this time. "Rob!" she finally yelled out over the noise of the kitchen.

He suddenly looked up, aggravated.

"Sandra says you have a special app for Ralph," she said as he shot an aggravated look her way.

"I do," he replied calmly. "It will be just a minute, can you stay and wait?" he asked politely.

"Sure, I'm in the clear with my tables," she replied, leaning on the stainless counter.

"You always are Elle'. We all know we can count on you. You're our best server out there, I don't get to tell you very often, but I appreciate how professional and capable you are. If only we had five more of you..." Rob said as he went back to plating.

Silently watching Rob, Ellen felt unexpectedly flushed with warm contentment over his compliment. She had always admired Rob's work, perhaps more than everyone else. She admired his handsomeness as well. All of the girls had talked about how hot he was when he first came onboard as head chef. He was obviously out of her league and she didn't need another crush to end in disappointment and tears like Kilgore.

As Ellen waited, Sandra rushed to the pass looking forlorn.

"Are your tables okay Elle'?" she asked nervously. "Wait, forgive me, I know you have it under your thumb girl. I'm just on tilt. I'm feeling like the rest of the dining room is slipping. Charley is prancing around in Neverland for some reason. Heather is near tears and barely holding on. The other servers are not far from falling in the weeds as well. Thank God you have Ralph. I don't even want to talk to him tonight."

Smiling, Ellen replied. "I don't either believe me. He's already trying to set his Middle Eastern friend's sights on Charley."

Looking up from her tickets, Sandra shot Ellen an intense stare.

"What-the-fuck-Ellen! Why is Charley even at his table?" she asked dead seriously.

"I don't know," Ellen replied with a shrug. "She grabbed two of their drinks off the bar and claimed she was helping me. Then the guys were eyeing her. Ralph introduced her as his 'Best server'. Then he said something about her ass to George."

Sandra was listening with a scowl. "Who is George?" she asked.

"It's that Jordanian guy with Ralph, his golf friend," Ellen replied matter-of-factly.

"To hell with that Ellen," Sandra said, pointing a finger. "I don't want Charley near that table again, do you understand?"

"Sure," Ellen replied. "I just don't want her trying to claim any of my tip."

Sandra pointed her finger closer.

"Charley is getting no tip from that table nor any of your tables. If she wants anything from that guy, she's getting it outside of this place. Understand?"

Ellen turned as Rob called out over the bang and clang.

"Hey! Enough of the girl-talk on the line. Ellen, take these apps out to Ralph's table ASAP!"

Ellen felt satisfied and relieved as she headed to the dining room with the appetizers. Charley may screw a lot of people, but tonight it wouldn't be Ellen. She trusted Sandra to make certain of that.

Arriving with the appetizers, Ellen found Charley at the table, talking to George.

"I've done some modeling and I'm looking to get into a fashion show this fall," Charley said as Ellen placed the plates down.

Ellen heard her lies. She wanted to interrupt and say, "She's full of shit, she's never modeled for anything other than herself in the mirror and by this fall she'll probably be pregnant." But she simply stood on the other side of the table and silently placed the food for the guests.

She paused to ask for refills or requests but found the attention at the table was still on Charley.

Charley shot her a look across the table. "Thanks Elle' everything is okay here, but thanks again I appreciate your help." Her remark and over-enthusiastic tone had Ellen in shock, silently fuming as she looked at Charley's smug smile.

"What did she just say to me?" she thought to herself.

Ellen stood eyeing the table. She listened as Charley kept pouring on her faux charm to George.

"I can't decide between college or a career in fashion, but I do like modeling.... "

Deciding to keep her composure, Ellen started to walk away. Just then Ralph spoke up, snapping his fingers towards her.

"Ellen, we need fresh linens here all around before our entrees arrive. Be a dear and grab that for Charley would you?" he asked and turned away.

Standing dead still, she watched as Ralph pretended to be engrossed by Charley's fairy tales.

Walking away, Ellen shook with stress. "Sandra!" Ellen called out as Sandra was rushing by. Stopping briefly, Sandra turned.

"Not now Elle', I'm controlling a crisis." Sandra replied as she walked on hurriedly.

Ellen was strong, and capable, but suddenly she felt the embarrassing feeling of tears welling up in her eyes. Desperate to get off the service floor before breaking down in front of a house full of customers, she jogged to the kitchen. Behind the swinging doors it was a madhouse of servers, a calliope threatening to crash to the ground. Feeling like she would burst out in a heap of tears at any second, she brushed past them all, sprinting past the line into the dish room. It was the one place no one ever went except the dishwasher, Armando, and he rarely even spoke to the servers.
Chapter 8

Collapsing on an empty stack of dish racks, Ellen held her face in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. She had never cried or suffered a break down in all her years of serving. Many times she watched as weak servers had cried about angry tables and being hopelessly lost in the weeds, but never her. Now, she was a trembling heap and it had nothing to do with losing control of her tables. It was about losing control of her emotions.

"Señorita, you okay?" Armando asked as he rapidly sorted silverware.

Ellen never even looked up to answer. He could hear her mumble something through her hands as her tears fell onto the wet floor. Moving on with his work, he stopped questioning her, but kept glancing back concerned.

Rob rushed back looking for a knife.

"Armando where's my damn knife! I told you never take my knife off the line. I will wash it..."

Stopping in mid-sentence, he saw a sight he never imagined. Ellen, sitting on a wet dish rack, sobbing, hands over her face.

"Jesus! What the fuck!" he asked Armando, shocked.

"I dunno' she says she's okay," Army answered.

Moving towards Ellen, Rob kneeled to her level.

"Elle', what's going on?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder.

She made no effort to reply. She simply sobbed louder knowing Rob was looking dead at her in her most vulnerable embarrassed state.

"Chef! Tickets are coming!" Miguel yelled back to Rob.

"Ellen, I have to get back to the line. Go to the office if you need some time."

Silently getting up, Ellen rushed past the servers into the office, locking the door behind her. Watching, Rob had no choice but to get back to the line. Tearing the ribbon of tickets off the printer, he began calling them out.

"One cod, one filet well, three short rib. Micah sub spinach for kale on that cod.... two lobster, one short rib, four short rib all day..."

Glancing at the office door as he worked, he grew more worried about Ellen with each passing second. He felt a strong urge to comfort her and calm her fears. Nonetheless, this was a high-pressure restaurant. During service, the show must go on, regardless of whom is crying.

Looking at the tickets, Rob placed Ralph's table's entrees on the pass.

"Shit! Ellen's table 22."

Charley suddenly appeared at the window. "I can run it for her, table 22 right?"

"Thanks Charley," Rob said with relief. "Don't drop anything or I will personally take every dime out of your check, then fire you," he warned as Charley was walking with the fabulous entrees in her arms.

"God! Some thanks for helping," Charley shot back.

He felt bad after saying it. Ellen's breakdown was unnerving him.

"Sorry Charley," he replied just as she was passing through the doors.

"Damn, what the hell is going on out there? I have never seen Ellen even frazzled, let alone have a meltdown in the middle of service," Rob wondered aloud.

"Must be bad amigo. At least it's not our fault," Miguel said proudly.

It was little comfort to Rob. Ellen was Ralph's server and now she was locked in the office in tears of tragedy.

"I don't know but it must be world war three out there," Rob said worryingly.

"Two hours to go. Get eet right guys! No mistakes. The Ship can't handle another blow," Miguel called out to the kitchen crew.

Rob finished plating the finished orders as he looked at Miguel. "Miguel can you take over for a minute? One minute, I have to see what's going on with Ellen."

"Sí amigo! I got eet I got eet," Miguel replied, taking his place at the pass.

Tossing his towel aside, Rob fumbled for his keys to unlock the office door.

Opening the door, walking into the office, Rob saw Ellen sitting on the stained sofa in the dim light. He could hear she was still sobbing. With a buzz the overhead fluorescents blinked to life. In sharp bluish light Rob could see her plainly. She looked an especially sad sight, sitting on the low couch, hunched forward with her face covered by her hands. Rob didn't say anything. Closing the door, he sat in the desk chair. Her watering eyes looked up in sadness, Rob couldn't help but genuinely feel for her.

Moving to the couch beside her quietly, he said nothing. Respectively waiting for her to look over or say something. After a long minute, he moved closer to her. Cautiously, he put his arm around her, softly rubbing her back, his other hand innocently patting her thigh.

"C'mon Elle', what could be so bad? Fuck the tables, fuck the other servers, it's just a bad night, we all have them," Rob said to her with the calming tenderness of a best friend.

"Hey, C'mon now, you're worrying me. I know you're tougher than that. I've seen you take terrible shit with a stone cold poker face. Now, tell me what could be so bad tonight? Is it Ralph?"

With a sigh, Ellen sat up, wiping her eyes. "I hate Ralph... I hate everything, everyone, especially.... especially... me," she choked out the words. "I have no life, no friends, no money and it's all because I'm so fat... I'm so mad... that damn Charley! She's pretty so people treat her great even though she is a soulless bitch. I'm just... nothing. I'm nothing to anyone except my dad. Even he brings me down. Nothing is ever quite what he wanted, not exactly as he would have liked. He looks at me with such mean looks sometimes, like I suck at everything. I pay the rent, the bills, the late night food orders, the cab fares, the co-pays that never end. I dread even going home sometimes. Now, I hate being here too. I feel like I have no one and nowhere to be."

Rob knew he had to get back to the line, but as Ellen continued telling her story of loss and pain, he was compelled to stay. Noticing how her eyes sparkled bright blue, like a topaz when she looked dead at him, Rob began to see her in a new light. Watching her lips as she spoke, he noticed how perfect they were. Just the size and shape a thin-lipped spoiled Beverly Hills bitch would choose while sitting in a plastic surgeon's office, thumbing through a lip catalogue.

Suddenly he felt the urge to hug her. Wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace, his hug stopped her in mid-sentence. Pulling her into his chest, instantly her arms went around him as she sobbed louder, uncontrollably crying on his shoulder. Suddenly she felt no shame, only comfort in his arms.

Ellen had been a shivering mess just seconds prior. Now, she felt the calming of her entire being. Rob was rocking her in a hug, leaning his head beside hers, whispering into her ear.

"Ellen, it's okay. You're okay. You can change anything you want. Do anything you want. You can. I know it. You're a beautiful person, more than any of the girls I know."

With those words, and Rob's embrace, Ellen felt a flood of emotion rushing through her veins. A heroin-like high soothed her through to the bone.

"Oh Rob," she said back calmly, hugging him tighter. "I can't thank you enough for bothering with me. This place is running full throttle and here you are sitting on this stinky couch with me in tears. You're so great Rob. Not just because of this either, you're so great in so many ways, every way really. I wish... well... Oh never mind. Just... thanks Rob. I'm going to get it together and get back out now."

Beginning to feel embarrassed, Ellen broke the embrace and stood up. Rob turned to open the door then stopped.

"Elle'," he said, holding his arms outstretched. "Elle' Come here."

Hugging her again, he whispered in her ear. "You're not alone. I care about you. I've always paid attention to you but somehow I guess I never realized how much I have come to care about you, but never bothered to know... really know, who you are."

She stood silent, barely breathing.

"Elle'," he said. "Elle'..." he repeated, staring right into her eyes.

He noticed there was something special behind the bitterness that she was hiding. He had seen a glimpse of the gentleness of her true spirit. Slowly leaning forward while pulling her to him, without knowing exactly why, he lightly pressed his lips against hers.

Ellen's eyes closed as she embraced her first real kiss. In that silent moment, she felt as if some sort of magic spell had made her most precious wish come true.

The room faded away, they were both caught up in the kiss as time slowed to a stop. Without warning, the doorknob turned, opening the door.

"Rob! Are you in here?" Sandra asked as she suddenly burst into the office.

"Oh..." she gasped as she looked up seeing Rob quickly break his kiss.

"Um... Rob when you get a minute I need... never mind."

With a hushed tone, she turned right back out the door as quickly as she came in.

The sounds of the busy kitchen suddenly sprang into their ears through the open door. They both instantly remembered they were in the middle of a Saturday night rush. Rob and Ellen looked at each other with hurried confusion and a strange sense of loss.

"We got to get back out there," Rob said calmly.

"I know, I didn't mean to hold you up," Ellen said.

"It's okay Elle'. Let's get this done and we will talk later after work. Charley just ran your entrees when you came in here. You should go check on them."

Wiping her eyes, Ellen nodded, not knowing what to say next. Parting, they stepped back into the crash and bang of their stations.

"Oh god, I wonder what my tables are doing? Ellen thought with fearful anticipation. "And Ralph, oh my god, I can't afford for Ralph to get pissed and fire me."

She was nearly in tears again, when it hit her. "I can do this better than anyone here," she thought confidently to herself as she looked at her watch. "These servers scrape by every night. I had seven minutes of doubt one night in all these years. This is nothing."

Seeing Ralph's table had food and drinks, she went about her section, keeping up the self pep talk as she breezed from table to table. Smiling and chatting as she bussed the plates, counted the refills, presented checks and sold desserts.

Now, for Ralph, she thought. Ellen was at Ralph's table as Sandra passed by. Sandra looked her dead in the eyes but said nothing. "Oh god! I forgot about Sandra," she thought. "Jules just said she went home with Rob last night." Ellen wondered if the rumor was true and what it could mean if it were. "Was it true? Did Sandra see Rob's kiss as a betrayal, or Ellen as a threat?" There was no time to ponder the question.

Ellen never had to balance these types of thoughts before while serving. She almost blocked out the people at Ralph's table as they talked over each other semi-drunk, spewing out requests.

"No problem mam," she said to the lady insisting on a colder martini. "I will be right back with a fresh drink. And yes, I will make a special note to the bartender to chill it exceptionally cold for you."

Walking away, she felt a mix of relief and mild panic. "So this is what these amateur servers feel." She knew that wasn't going to work if she was to make the night a salvaged success and walk home with 25 percent tips for tonight's service. It was time for the pro to take over and the nervous romance stricken girl to go on hold. But the kiss from Rob... What did it mean? She didn't even have a split second to process the emotions of it now. It would all have to wait. The show must go on.
Chapter 9

Jogging back into the kitchen, Ellen scanned the window tickets, matching them with her table's orders. Stacking five plates on her left arm, she expertly overlapped the edges of each without disturbing the food. Not only did this give her the ability to carry seven plates at once but the overlapping edges gave the load more stability.

Whisking the orders carefully out of the kitchen, she placed each in front of her diners. After checking on all of her customers, making silent mental notes of needed items and refills, Ellen circled Ralph's table. Quietly bussing the empty plates and used linens, she asked if the party needed anything else, hearing no reply, Ellen turned for the bar. She overheard George as she walked away.

"I must say, after the first bite of this delicious lamb, I can already see this chef of yours is very skilled."

Ralph nodded as he chewed a chunk of steak.

"Yep, Chef Rob Anderson, he's pretty good. I brought him in from New York a couple of years back."

George looked at the other diners, examining their faces as they too swooned over the flavors of their food.

The customers never noticed Ellen's brief breakdown. As she made her rounds, she closed out all of the tables except for Ralph's, collecting great tips from each. She kept an eye on Ralph's table from a distance. She was able to get most of her side work finished by the time they needed their next refill. Walking back to the table, Ellen smiled. "I see you need another drink sir," she said to Ralph. He simply nodded as he chewed.

Asking if anyone else cared for another drink, Ellen found herself nearly ignored. George noticed the lack of a response from the rude guests and spoke to her with a smile.

"Forgive us my dear, we are so enamored by the wonderful food we forgot our manners for a moment. I will have another drink please..."

Looking around at the other diners, he paused.

"Perhaps you should simply bring another round for the entire table, and please bring a dessert menu."

Ellen was turning to walk away when Ralph spoke up.

"Ellen," Ralph said, snapping his stubby fingers. "Don't worry about that menu. Just bring the table a round of that spectacular fried cheesecake dessert, the one Rob made at the charity dinner last week."

His demanding tone did not shake her. Ellen simply nodded back quickly and politely.

"I will tell Chef immediately. However, it's not a menu item and will take extra time to prepare. We are very busy and it will likely take quite a while. Would you care for something else while you wait? Perhaps a bottle of champagne?" she said with a hint of "Screw you Ralph, you know that's not on the menu and you will just have to wait if you want it."

"Sure, that sounds great," Ralph replied. "A bottle of Cristal for the ladies will do just fine."

"Perfect," Ellen thought, another $220 added to the check.

Ellen had her tiger claws on now. She knew in her sleep how to subtly push the bill to its highest when confronted with a condescending customer. She was well versed in the fact that an arrogant host would rarely refuse to back down in front of guests when faced with an expensive option. Ralph's bill would hit $1200 easy tonight. That was a possible $400 tip, half of Ellen's usual weekly pay, in one night, off one table.

This was why Ellen chose to stick it out all these years and push her lowly server career up to this level. Her eight to nine hundred a week wasn't "doctor money", but it was better than most of her long lost college friends took home these days. With Ralph's table and her others, it should net her over five hundred bucks tonight. "Not bad for... an over-weight lonely waitress," Ellen thought as she rang the champagne into the terminal.

Ellen simply typed "6 - Fried Cheesecake" into the terminal and went to the kitchen to explain to Rob. Walking in, Rob was holding the ticket, shaking his head in confusion.

"Sorry, it's Ralph's request," Ellen said as he shot her a look. "He wants six of those fried cheesecake specials you made last week. I don't even know what to charge," she said with a look of wonder.

"Son of a bitch!" Rob yelled while plating an order.

Still carefully drizzling sauce, he continued cursing.

"Bastard! Right in the middle of a storm the smug asshole orders six scratch made off-menu desserts." "Son of a bitch!" he yelled louder as he placed a lamb dinner in the window. "You know what Ellen? I will give him his last minute custom-order desserts and he will sit there and squirm in his wrinkle resistant Dockers until they come out. I will give you plenty of time to run his bar tab into four digits before he sees that cheesecake. And since we have to work on his table right up until the second we close... ring it in at 18 bucks per order! Bastard... as if I have time to.... son of a bitch! Miguel! Seis cheesecake specials pronto, pronto!"

After that command, Rob stopped talking or even looking at Ellen. She was invisible to him, as was everyone else except Miguel. Only big shiny bowls, whisks and eggs mattered to Rob now.

Rob knew he could make his cheesecake dessert in thirty-five minutes, but rushing was risking less than perfection. Even though the very thought of Ralph casually chunking the beautiful globe of silken delight across his drunken lips was a travesty, he still strived for perfection.

Each globe of rich cheesecake was rolled to a perfect 360. Chilled to just 2 degrees above freezing, the hand roll came out perfect against the cold granite slab. Gently, his spoon guided the globe into icy tempura. A simple mix of near frozen water and organic Japanese rice flour, whisked into a light white batter, it coated the cheesecake globe. A plump blueberry nestled deep in the center.

Even though he knew it was spot on by merely holding his hand over the oil, Rob tested the temperature of the glimmering peanut oil in the age-old cast iron pot on the range. Quickly dunking each glistening orb into the pot, he watched intently as they instantly turned golden in front of his eyes. Spinning them in the oil to brown them consistently, removing each as it floated up, bobbing beautifully, beckoning before his eyes to be removed before they burst into a squid like tentacle nightmare of ruin.

With one stroke, he lifted the globes from the fry pot onto a soft cotton cloth. Holding the cloth by all four edges, he rolled the sizzling balls, sucking the excess oil into the clean cotton. A spoonful of blueberry infused local honey was brushed across the center of each cold plate. The honey held the golden ball in place, allowing Rob to slowly drizzle a spider's thread of caramelized sugar across the plate. Delicate strands wrapped the orb in a caramel lace, adding a hint of sweet crunch and assuring it didn't roll.

A dust of powdered sugar, spiced with Rob's own secret agents came next. The sugar dust blew across the plate like an accidental sneeze across a thick cocaine line. After the dust settled, a green leafed blueberry sprout with two attached berries was tucked to rest beside the golden treat, adding color and stability for the trip to the table. Standing back, he examined the plates for perfect presentation. Satisfied, he placed them in the pass window.

Ralph would never notice the intense effort in the details. Rob imagined he would inevitably suck it down in two chomping bites, talking with his mouth open, greedily chewing and spewing his usual arrogant gibberish all the while. Watching from the window, Ellen grew excited as Rob placed the desserts in the pass for her. She admired the sight of them instantly.

"These are beautiful Rob!" Ellen said as she pulled them close.

Shrugging, Rob wiped his hands on towel. "Drunk ass Ralph will chomp it down without even bothering to taste the nuances of it all. It might as well be a fried Twinkie," he said sarcastically.

Ellen shot him a scowl at the notion as she took the plates.

Placing them in front of the guests, Ellen waited for any requests before quietly slipping away. "It probably could have been a fried Twinkie," she thought as she watched Ralph pick the golden globe up with his fingers and chomp it in half. "I doubt he would even notice the difference," she said to herself as she watched from a distance.

George on the other hand did notice the difference. Slicing the cheesecake globe in half, his eyebrows rose in surprise as the whole blueberry in the center oozed its warm juice onto the plate. Forking off a slice, George drug it through the infused honey, savoring the small bite with eyes closed, allowing it to melt on his tongue. The creamy cheesecake soothed his senses. The natural sweetness of the warm berry, the honey background and the curious hint of something...

"What was that mist of magic at the end there?" he wondered. George knew instantly this chef was more than Ralph understood.

The entrees had gone off without a hitch. George's lamb had been succulent to the end. The other diners sang their praises about their entrees as well. George looked over, watching as Ralph greedily fingered the other half of his cheesecake into his mouth. Chewing with abandon, Ralph talked between chews. It was then obvious to George that Ralph had no notion of what fine food even was.

While George enjoyed his simple but amazing dessert, the table's conversation faded into a soft murmur.

"Fried cheesecake," he thought to himself. "This is sex on a plate. Talk about an aphrodisiac, this would make any woman weak in the knees. What better way to finish a dining experience? And not even a hint of chocolate or truffle... amazing," he thought to himself as he watched his dining companions focus their eyes onto their plates intently.

George studied their reactions as they ate, all the while cooing and moaning under their breath. "She's even making sex sounds," he thought, watching closely as one woman closed her eyes, letting a soft moan escape as she tasted her dessert. He couldn't make out the mumble. The silence of the hushed lips said all he needed to hear.

"Perhaps this is the very place I am seeking... Until my plan is complete, I can dine on this Chef's talent for myself," he thought as he silently looked over at Ralph's chomping and laughing. He realized this would dissolve a friendship faster than an Alka-Seltzer in boiling water. Nevertheless, Rob's talent was beckoning to be seized and exploited, not to mention, handsomely profited from. He had come to Cincinnati to find a perfect place to begin a complex plan. Looking around the room, he realized his search was over. The Good Ship Cincinnati would serve his purpose perfectly. Dining on Chef Rob's creations until the plan was complete was too good of a bonus to pass up on. George savored his dessert slowly as he contemplated his strategy to snag this diamond in the rough for his own desires.

Only one diner didn't even try the desert, Kim. Truth be told, she agonizingly pulled away from it, but was still drawn by its beauty. Only her paralyzing fear of compacted calories caused her to refrain from sampling the alluring golden globe. Reluctantly, she left the dessert sitting on the plate, watching enviously as the others savored every last morsel.

Ralph noticed the untouched dessert on Kim's plate, as did George. George finally broke the bliss and silence.

"Are you not even going to try it Kim? It truly is magnificent."

Kim shook her head. "Way too many calories for me," she said with a reluctant shrug.

Ralph took interest as he sucked a deep swig off his drink. Taking the plate from Kim, he looked around and motioned for Ellen to come to the table.

"Ellen, I have treat for you!" Ralph called out, rudely snapping his fingers again.

Ellen saw the plate of untouched cheesecake.

"Is there something wrong with your dessert?" she asked.

Ralph laughed. "Not at all. Kim cannot eat it and I just know you can't say no to this pretty dessert now could you?"

As the table stared in anticipation of her answer, Ellen fumed inside.

"I'm sure I would enjoy it... but I am not in the habit of eating my guest's left over food," she said as she took the plate from his hand.

Nearly shaking with anger, she wanted to tear into Ralph for such an embarrassing comment but she kept her cool. As Ralph began laughing, the women at the table laughed along with him.

"I just hate to see good food go to waste," he said through his laughs. "I thought you would appreciate it," he said with a snicker. Kim doesn't eat fatty foods, that's her issue, but you on the other hand..."

The women at the table laughed again. Ellen shot Ralph a genuine looking smile, took the plate, trotting away totally pissed off. The idea that she was just humiliated due to her weight caused her to fume as she headed into the kitchen.

"Yeah, give the fat girl some free dessert, she will eat it, she eats everything. Ass! Total ass! God I hate him," she mumbled under her breath.

In the kitchen, as she tipped the plate to toss the dessert in the bin with the rest of the scraps, she paused. She couldn't bring herself to throw out a beautiful work of art like this.

Picking up the globe, she bit through the crisp crust into the pillow of cheesecake. The hints of caramel, honey and the dust of sugar heightened her sense of wonderful. As the still warm blueberry center melted in her mouth she moaned.

"My God it's so good."

The sounds of slam and hustle in the kitchen faded out to a distant drone. Her senses were alive with endorphins and pure pleasure as she stood over the trash bin, silently enjoying the delicious dessert. Standing still among the busy workers she noticed Rob.

Across the heads of the hurried crew, she could see him working. Thoughts of romance took over her mind as she watched him work. Enjoying her dessert slowly, she noticed Charley tug her loosening work pants up over her perfect bottom as she shot Ellen a quick, subtle bitch look over her shoulder. Then it hit her mid chew...

"How is Rob going to see me as sexy? I weigh at least 200 pounds, and I'm standing over a trash bin eating discarded cheesecake off a diner's plate. Jesus! I have to change. I'm gonna' change. But how?" she wondered as she swooped up the final bite off her plate.

Back in the dining room, Ralph's table was drifting away from the party. George was on the patio with a cigar contemplating his next move. Kim and friends had found a conversation at the bar with several suave suited salesmen. Ralph was the only one remaining.

"Perfect time to drop the check," Ellen thought as she made her way to the terminal to print the bill. As the printer spit out the ticket, Ellen read the total... $1487.52. That should read into a tip of at least $300-$400. Assuming Ralph would even go by the 20% norm, and assuming he was sober enough to do the math.

Standing the checkbook on end in the center of the table, she bussed the dessert plates and glasses. Ralph didn't even acknowledge her presence. He was fixated on the new hostess Amelia. Amelia was a freshman at the local community college and worked the weekends. Though she sucked at pretty much every task, she did have the fresh looks of a blue-eyed blonde haired cheerleader. Her slim summer tanned twenty-year-old body was well toned from high school soccer.

She couldn't be trusted to handle many tasks at once, nor to book reservations properly, but she was useful on weekends when long table waits angered diners. Amelia's naive nonchalant style and innocent schoolgirl charm put nearly every angered husband quietly at bay when faced with the news of a long wait. Her scatterbrained uselessness only seemed to make her more attractive to men.

Ellen never understood the infatuation, yet she was well aware of several advances on the cute freshman since her recent arrival. Ellen often caught the intense stares and hushed comments from the kitchen and service staff guys who aimed their sites Amelia's way. Now it seemed that Ralph's drunken ego had focused in on the nearly high school age hostess. Ellen watched as his eyes ran from her feet, up her legs to her butt and back again. She frowned at his stare as his scotch dribbled off his smiling lips.

"Pig!" Ellen almost said aloud as she passed by him with an armload of dishes. It was common knowledge Ralph had previously lured many young hostesses into bed. Tonight, it seemed Amelia was his next ambition. Walking through the swinging doors, Ellen shook her head in silent disgust at his obvious indiscretion. "Imagine what his wife would say if she saw him staring like that?" she wondered with a smirk.
Chapter 10

As the evening closed, Ellen found herself jogging to get all her side work finished. As she worked, she glanced at Ralph's check whenever she passed by; noticing it still had not been touched.

Heading into the dish room, she unloaded heavy bus pans as she chatted with Armando.

"You doin' okay now?" he asked as he loaded dishes into the steaming washer.

"Oh yeah, I'm okay. Man for a minute I was ready to walk out. Or kill someone then walk out," she replied with a laugh.

"Sí sí, I know," said Army. "This place, it's like a demolition derby. Slow down for a split second and you get crashed."

"Don't I know it," Ellen replied with a laugh. Seeing he was deep in dirty dishes, she helped Armando with a couple large baskets of silverware, washed her hands and headed back out.

Ellen approached Ralph's table just in time to see him handing Charley the checkbook.

"Thanks Charley. By the way I think George is on the patio if you would like to thank him before he leaves," he said as he quickly walked off towards the hostess desk.

Ellen stood in front of Charley. "Why is Ralph paying out to you? That's my table."

Charley didn't even look at her as she dashed off to the bar in a trot. Following with fast steps, Ellen repeated the question with a more forceful tone.

"Charley... Stop! Why do you have my check?"

Stopping, Charley spun around, pointing one of her long nails at Ellen.

"Fuck you Ellen, you were off in never-land crying in the weeds and I saved your ass. This is just as much my tip as it is yours, ask Ralph."

Charley pocketed the handful of hundreds, tossing one towards Ellen onto the bar. Without a word she turned and trotted off to the patio, a smug spring in her step as she swished her hips out the door.

Ellen stood shaking in clenched fists. This was not going to be allowed to stand. She decided against choking Charley with one hand while taking back her money with the other. It was her first thought but not acted on. Sandra would intervene, earlier she had assured her. Now, Ellen was going to make certain of it.

Heading into the kitchen looking for Sandra, Ellen found her leaning over the counter engrossed in talking to Chef Rob. Ellen could see by Sandra's kicking leg she was happily nervous.

"Sandra, I need you and Ralph at the bar for a quick minute," Ellen said with a shaky voice.

Sandra continued talking to Rob, ignoring Ellen completely. Rob noticed and spoke up to Sandra on Ellen's behalf.

"Go on Sandra, go see what Ellen needs and we'll talk after I get this knocked out."

Sandra turned and walked to the bar, not even asking what Ellen needed.

Pausing at the bar service terminal, Sandra began pulling reports for her closing work.

"Go get Ralph and get on with this Ellen. It's been a long hard night and I don't feel like wasting time."

Ellen didn't see Ralph but she had a feeling she knew where he'd be as she headed to the hostess station. There he was, his arm around Amelia's waist, chatting about college costs and career goals, eyeing her greedily as he rubbed his hand down her back to her waist.

"Ralph, Sandra and I need you at the bar please," Ellen said, interrupting his conversation.

"Okay Ellen," Ralph replied without looking.

His focus was still fixed on the hostess as if Ellen had never summoned him.

"Kind of important Ralph, some of us are still working, remember?" she said with impatience.

"Okay, okay I'll be there," he replied.

Frustrated, Ellen started walking back to see if Sandra was still at the bar.

"I have your report here Ellen, can you cash this out when we're done here?" Sandra asked.

Ellen looked it over. She had sold nearly three grand in food and drinks not counting Ralph's comped tab. With Ralph's correct tip, she could walk with over six hundred dollars. A serious relief from her earlier near tragic emotions. All the stress and insults would be worth it.

Ralph swaggered up, drink in hand, embracing Sandra with an arm wrapped around her waist. She ignored the unsolicited gesture until his hand dropped slowly, trying to cup her butt. Shrugging him off with a casual twist, Sandra leaned with her back against the bar.

"Okay Ellen, what's your deal?" she asked.

Explaining Charley's check swipe in detail, Ellen turned to Ralph.

"So I need to know how much you gave her and then I will tip her out accordingly."

Sandra interrupted. "How much did Charley give you?" she asked.

"One hundred dollars," Ellen replied.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Ralph shot out. "You have a hundred bucks and you're bitching about it? Jesus, what do you expect me to give you?"

Ellen stood firm, even though inside she was shaking with anxiety.

"I don't expect anything else from you Ralph. It's Charley that stole my money and I want it back."

Not at all pleased with the meetings progress at this point, Ellen demanded an answer.

"Your tab was $1487. How much did you leave?" she asked.

"I gave Charley $400 even," Ralph replied reluctantly.

Ellen gasped as she heard the total.

"Charley has $300 and I have only $100. That needs to be reversed, and throwing a hundred her way for bringing you a few drinks and six plates is way more than she deserves."

Sandra stopped the argument. "Ellen, you broke down, left the table and went crying to Rob when the service hit hard. Charley took care of the table. And for once, I didn't even have to ask her to. I don't see a problem here. Tell Charley to come cash out and you cash out after her. I want to get out of here in the next hour." With that she walked off, organizing reports as she walked away.

Ralph patted Ellen on the shoulder, "Sweet heart don't get your bloomers in a bunch. You make good money here, just leave this one alone. Truth be told, that tip split was dead even. $200 of that cash was from George. He insisted I give it to... Charley. Even if you tipped her out a hundred, you'd still be left with a hundred. This is one you're gonna' have to take for the team."

Ralph turned away, grabbing up another scotch from Jules as he walked back up front to Amelia.

Standing at the bar in a mild panic, Ellen didn't know what to do next. She desperately needed that money for her dad's upcoming meds, food and not to mention rent. Almost in tears, she stood still silently at the bar as customers passed by, brushing by her on both sides as they headed out to their cars. Ben the bus boy began sweeping around her shoes, as she stood motionless, paralyzed with nervous indecision. There was only one hope, Rob.

Pushing through the swinging doors, Ellen marched past the line and straight to the stock room where Rob was working.

"Rob! Charley just stole $300 off Ralph's table's tip. Sandra blew me off and Ralph told me to take one for the team. I really need that money. Will you please help me?"

Rob was still counting, pointing his pen at a pan of lamb chops...

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen...."

After he finished, he looked at her with a glance.

"Ellen, I can't deal with that right now. I want out of here by one and we still have a lot to do. We will figure it out later."

Feeling slighted that Sandra and Ralph had screwed her, Ellen had put all her faith in Rob. His unconcerned reply was devastating. "No one cares... Not even Rob," she thought. She could have never guessed Rob would turn his back as well.

"Rob? What the hell? I mean you of all people should understand how hard tonight was for me...." she said in frustration.

He stopped counting again and looked at her. "Ellen... Just wait until we're done here."

With those words from Rob, Ellen felt the tears welling in her eyes and ran out of the stock room, back through the kitchen, straight into the dining room and on to the bar.

"Where is Charley?" she asked Jules.

"I saw her cashing out and then she went outside," Jules replied.

Ellen ran to the parking lot, hoping to catch her in time but she was not there. Her red Lexus coupe was just where it always was; parked at an angle in a handicap spot by the front landing.

Walking back in, Ellen saw Charley at the bar.

"I'm out of here," Charley said to Jules, tossing her three twenty-dollar bills as she slung her Gucci purse over her shoulder and walked on to the lobby.

Ellen stood still as she passed by, wanting badly to reach out, grab her by the hair, throw her to the ground and take the stolen tip out of her expensive purse. But instead, she did nothing.

She just stared at Charley's back as she walked across the dining room, texting on her cell phone.

"Hey Elle', can you grab those wine glasses off the patio for me? I'm almost outta' here," Jules asked.

"Sure," Ellen replied softly, "Sure, just give me a second..." she said as she snapped out of her death stare. Ellen felt the tears coming again.

"Hey, we're all going to The Pub tonight. You wanna' come with us for once or are you heading home as usual?" Jules asked as she washed glasses.

Ellen turned her way. "I think I'm ready for a warm bed and a good movie tonight," she said while wiping her eyes inconspicuously. "It's been a rough night and I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Okay well, I'll be there if you feel like stopping by. I hope you change your mind, we all need a few drinks after tonight!" Jules said smiling as she stacked the clean glasses.
Chapter 11

After the side work was finished, Ellen headed to the kitchen. Miguel and Armando had propped the back door open. They were stretched back on a short stack of empty crates, passing a smoking blunt. Seeing someone come out the door, they were startled and attempted to hide it. Realizing it was Ellen, they laughed with relief and resumed smoking.

"Holy shit Ellen, we thought you were Sandra!" Miguel said as he puffed the blunt to life.

Shaking her head, Ellen laughed. "If I was Sandra I would have just busted you idiots, you don't hide your pot after someone sees it, you hide it before. Better yet, go down to the back deck where you can't be seen."

They both nodded their heads in agreement as they inhaled huge deep breaths off their big blue blunt. She was walking away when Miguel called out to her.

"Ellen, Ellen!"

Ellen looked back. "Quit yelling already, what do you stoners want?"

Miguel laughed. "Elle' tonight you are coming to The Pub with us! We no-take no for an answer... Me, Armando, Pub, you," he said pointing a finger at her as he puffed the blunt again.

Both of the cooks sat motionless, staring with eyes wide, waiting for her reply.

"I don't even drink, I don't like bars... I just want to..."

Miguel interrupted, "No no no! You go... You go. Army told me about your bad night. Tonight, you come with us."

Her mind was racing. Should she really consider it? Social activities involving dancing, sex, drinking, drugs and flirting pretty girls was not her thing. But why not? At this point, still nearly shaking with anger and anxiety over the Charley incident, nothing else sounded better.

"Maybe it will be exciting," she thought, staring at Miguel and Armando, now doubled over with laughter over Armando lighting a cigarette on the wrong end. "Why should these guys care if I go? But at least they cared enough to invite me... No one else invites me to anything... except Jules, and she just invited me as well. I wonder if Rob will be there?" Ellen pondered the notion as she watched them laugh.

"Fine," Ellen said without further hesitation.

Both the cooks shot up as if instantly sober.

"Really?" Armando asked curiously.

"Sure, why not? I love you guys," Ellen replied with a shrug.

"Bien bien!" Armando yelled out as he gave Miguel a high five.

Ellen shook her head and laughed. She needed only to cash out, then, for the first time in her life, she was on her way to The Pub with her crewmates.

The mere idea of actually going already had her insides tingling in nervous anticipation as she handed the money to Sandra without a word spoken. Counting her tips on the way out, the emotions hit her hard. Rob would be likely be there, and Sandra too. "Would he ignore her? Did the kiss mean anything?" she wondered. She had to find out. That first kiss was the closest Ellen had ever come to romance. She couldn't let it slip away so easily. She was going and if Rob was there, she needed to understand what he meant by it. Now she was truly nervous, but just as excited at the same time.

Tucking her money in her pocket as she walked down the landing, she wondered if she could muster the nerve to actually go to the bar. Carl the cabbie's Crown Victoria slowed to a stop in front of Ellen as usual. Sliding in the back, she smiled as Carl greeted her.

"Hey Elle' did you have a good night?"

"Sure. I guess. Well, I don't know..." she replied.

"Heading home, or to the store?" he asked as they pulled into the street.

Still focused on the notion Rob might come to The Pub gave her a tingling nervousness. With a brief indecision, she decided against going home and asked him to drop her at The Pub. Uttering the request out loud, the words spoken stirred up more nervousness as Carl nodded curiously into the mirror. For hundreds of days Carl had taken Ellen either home or to run and errand after work. He knew her and her dad well. He wondered why tonight Ellen would suddenly decide to go to a bar. It was unlike her. But she was an adult, so Carl didn't pry.

"Perhaps she has a date," he thought. "I sure hope so. Twenty six and never been on a date... The poor girl, such a good person. I hope she..." He pondered her lonely fate as he steered the cab silently.

The ride to The Pub filled Ellen with anxiousness until the car stopped at the door. Thanking Carl, she stepped out of the cab in front of the bar. She could hear the music ring out into the night air. The neon Pabst Blue Ribbon sign in the big plate glass window illuminated the sidewalk with an eerie red & blue glow, just enough to see the figures of a dozen or more people outside smoking. Ellen walked into the midst of the small crowd, pausing at the big windows.

Looking inside, she could see Jules with a group of girls from the Hooters down the street. She saw Miguel and Armando playing foosball. Even though the Pub was small, it was a full house and a great crowd for any pub. The dance floor crowd spilled out into the isles along the bar, crowding the dancers against the seated patrons.

Watching wordlessly, Ellen gradually grew more comfortable with the scene. Two pretty girls in miniskirts were grinding in tandem on a guy in basketball shorts and a jersey. Ellen had seen him a few times at The Good Ship. She knew he sold weed and whatever other drugs to the staff. Ellen overheard Jules say something one night about getting ecstasy while he was at the bar. She thought his name was Frank or Franco but wasn't sure.

She saw no sign of Rob or Sandra through the window. Ellen knew she would have to go in and push through the crowd to see if he was there. Stepping up to the door, Ellen smiled at the doorman.

"Five dollars," he said coldly.

"Oh, okay I, umm, I have my tips here, give me just a..."

"Are you a server?" he asked.

"Yeah, The Good Ship," Ellen replied as she tried to dig out her money.

"Go on in," the man said, opening the door for her.

"Cool, thanks," Ellen shot back, smiling.

"We make the 9-5er's pay cover, but never the service crowd," he added as she passed over the threshold.

The sights, sounds and even the smell of the Pub instantly made Ellen nervous. This was new ground to her. She never went to bars before. She thought she never would.

"Ellen! Ellen you did come!" Jules yelled out to her from her bar stool, waving.

Ellen felt relief and walked straight to her. Nestling into an open space against the bar top, Ellen began to slightly relax.

After ordering a Long Island from Martinez, Jules introduced Ellen to her friends.

"Ellen this is Anne Marie, Lexus and Katelyn from Hooters. Girls, this is Ellen... Elle' is our one and only rock star server. She is super cool but has never been out with us in all the years I've worked with her!"

Ellen smiled as they said their hellos.

"You've never been here, really?" asked Anne Marie. "Do you hang out on the Levy or something? We used to never come here either. I mean it's like dirty and like dank..." she said looking around with disgust.

"Yeah," Lexus added. "That couch over there is like gross."

Laughing, Anne Marie went on. "We came here with Jules once and had so much fun. So many cooks and servers come here. Martinez discounts our drinks big time. I think a draft beer is like a dollar."

Jules turned back to the group, handing Ellen the icy Long Island as the other girls spoke up.

"Oh My God Girl you're gonna' get drunk tonight. Hell yeah!" the trio squealed in unison as they clanked glasses with a 'Cheers.' Ellen took a sip from the big carafe.

"Well, can you get it down?" Jules teased.

"I think it's... well, actually... it's not that bad," Ellen replied, taking a bigger drink. "I think... I think I like it."

"Of course you like it honey! I asked Martinez to mix it with just a touch of pomegranate and orange juice. You know the saying, 'Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.' I know my newbie drinks babe," Jules said, holding up her own glass with a wink.

Ellen smiled, sipping her first alcoholic drink happily. Her nerves and fears had nearly vanished thanks to Jules and her warm welcome. That and her first stiff drink seemed to be putting Ellen at ease.

It wasn't just the drink that was relaxing to Ellen. It was the newfound feeling of belonging. It was the Welcome. Jules and the rest of the crew were at The Pub enjoying themselves in their private lives. For the first time since the Kilgore episode, Ellen had finally joined in on the lives of these people, outside of work. Real life.

Ellen had never felt she belonged anywhere, or to anything, other than her little cramped apartment. She lived alone in life except for her dad. Mostly, she looked forward to seeing him after work. He was always waiting there, sitting in the dark with the TV on. His eyes smiled up at her whenever she walked in the door, hoping for a still warm take out meal or food from The Ship. She never disappointed him, always bringing home a treat from work, or stopping to buy him something before she went home.

Tonight, far from her apartment, deep in the sea of sweaty bodies at the rowdy pub, a new soothing sensation filled Ellen's mind. The alcohol buzzed through her veins, it seemed like something out of a dream. Everyone was happy. Everyone was smiling, even Ellen. She couldn't remember the last time she truly smiled with happiness if she were pressed to. Now, she was practically beaming. In this place, at this moment, her two hundred pounds faded away. It didn't matter to Jules, or Miguel, or Armando, or her new staggeringly pretty colleagues.

Normally, the company and comparison of such attractive females alongside Ellen made her uncomfortable. Tonight, she embraced their company. She felt the warmth of her new friends like the glowing heat off a roaring wood stove on a chilling winter night. In an instant it dawned on her exactly why the crew headed to this pub so often. She realized why they spent their hard earned dollars just to drink drafts out of red Solo cups, drunkenly dance and play darts & pool in a musty pub. It wasn't the bar, it was the company.

The camaraderie of working hard together, and playing hard together filled them with relief. Chef to dishwasher, bartender to busboy, fat and fit, all were equal at The Pub. Ellen liked that. She needed her soul soothed all along and never realized The Pub is where people go to get it, especially service industry workers.

Jules was solidly buzzed by the time Miguel swooped up, pulling her to the dance floor. Armando and his kitchen cohorts worked suave machismo moves on the hot Hooters girls, whisking them away as well. Ellen was left standing alone, but she didn't mind. She watched as she sipped on the last few inches of her custom blended Long Island, reveling in quiet excitement at the unfolding scene.

Two cooks moved in beside Ellen at the bar. She could see they were fresh off work from a trendy downtown steakhouse by the logo on their hats. They nodded her way as they tipped back three shots quick in a row.

'Don't Stop Believing' played on the jukebox. The crowd roared at the first note. The two cooks quickly snatched up a pair of giggling girls from the bar and pushed into the dance floor crowd.

With a growing smile, Ellen watched as the drunk dancers waved their arms high above their heads as they sang along with Steve Perry. Martinez slid Ellen a fresh drink.

"Oh thank you but I don't know... these are really strong," she said over the roar. "I should wait a bit... but they're so good though... I guess one more..."

Martinez interrupted. "Hey, drink the drink, dance the dance and relax. We're all just here to have fun."

Ellen smiled and took the icy cocktail. Martinez nodded knowingly as he went back to the long line. Relaxing, she cozied up in the corner of the bar. Scanning the crowd, she watched as Franco twisted his two ladies of the night into a writhing ménage à trios on the dance floor. Each girl took turns kissing him, one from the front, one from behind. The girl behind him stroked his back and neck, running her fingers through his hair. The other girl rubbed his manhood through his pants then slid her fingers up his stomach and chest. The three lovers pulled close as they swayed sexily to the music. It looked so sinful, so dirty, yet so stirring to Ellen.

She sat watching the crowd, laughing to herself at the scene with a mix of disgust, curiosity, amazement and almost a hint of envy.

With surprised eyes, Ellen watched Jules and Miguel dance close. He cupped her butt with both hands as they slow danced. Her head rested on his shoulder. She watched them in wonder, knowing Jules wasn't even particularly attracted to Miguel. Miguel's eyes met Ellen's from across the crowded room. He winked as he shot up a two-fingered devil's horns sign above his head with a sly smile. Ellen laughed as she sipped her drink, silently intrigued by the bohemian band of drunken drug addled misfits. Suddenly she saw him.

Rob's silhouette was now seated plainly in a front window booth, across from Sandra. A flood of unexpected emotions came washing through her like waves crashing onto a rocky beach. She dared not go over to the table. It was her first instinct but she refrained, out of fear of rejection and respect for Sandra, not to mention a serious lack of self-confidence.

Racked with indecision, Ellen felt strangely nervous amongst the laughing crowd. If she walked over to Rob and were rejected, she would feel like a desperate fat girl with an embarrassing crush. That would be humiliating, and in front of Sandra, even worse. Then again, if she showed no interest, Rob may feel awkward about the impromptu kiss from earlier and dismiss the whole thing.

Sighing deeply, Ellen slumped against the high back bar stool, sliding down on an elbow, hanging her head on a propped palm. Deep in nervous anxiety, Ellen sat still. The buzz of the Pub didn't last long. With one notice of Rob, she was back in her same old situation, longing for his kind handsome soul in painful silence. The night rushed by fast and furious all around her, yet she stayed still.

"Every night all these people have fun. But day after day, I'm just the same. Only lonelier.... older and fatter," she thought as she watched Rob through the crowd of dancers.

Tonight was the worst situation so far. Earlier, she had unexpectedly come so close to her dream guy, but he was so far away at the same time. And of course there was Sandra. Ellen guessed Sandra was likely pushing forty. In spite of her numbers in birthdays, her numbers in body sizes were enviable by women half her age. With full round D cup breasts, a tight belly, full hips that curved gracefully into shapely legs, and toned calves that tapered to petite ankles, she was still very attractive. Her toenails were pedicured to perfection. She had dark chocolate eyes, naturally tan skin, voluptuous lips and a pretty face framed by modern styled silky black hair. She was smart, capable and made a good living. From what Ellen imagined, Sandra was also seductive and sexually free. That was the real thing that made Ellen feel inferior.

By contrast, reluctance and embarrassment were Ellen's only emotions associated with sex. Sandra was just the opposite. Sandra could seduce her men if she chose to. Ellen merely longed for them in sad silence. Ellen never hated Sandra. She didn't even think of her in an ill way. If they were not interested in the same man, Ellen would have considered her a friend, or the closest thing to one she had at work. Yet, Sandra was the very woman that had designs for the one man Ellen truly wanted. How could she ever compete or compare? If Rob whisked her home tonight, threw her on a bed and started undressing her... what would she do?

"Oh God, I would be terrified," was all she could think. "He can't see me naked, I'm so fat... This is so hopeless." With those thoughts, the sobs came back again.

Though surrounded by over a hundred people, not one noticed her hot tears. The music played loud, the crowd danced, the bottles clanked and the liquor poured. No one stopped to notice Ellen's daunting pain. Then, through the crushed crowd, one pair of eyes stood out, looking dead at her own. Through the faces, Ellen noticed his dark stare fixed deep into hers. It was Franco.

Leaving his two companions, he wormed through the people straight towards her. Edging across the crowded floor, weaving his way to Ellen's corner seat, resting his drink on the bar beside her, he put an arm around her shoulder. Leaning in, he spoke calmly.

"Hey hey now. What has you so sad? Tomorrow there will be plenty of time for sadness, tonight there is only time for fun."

Ellen smiled through hers tears and laughed.

"I don't know... it's nothing... don't worry about it... Are you a friend of Jules? I think I saw you on The Ship a couple times," she asked, wiping her eyes.

"I'm Francisco, my friends call me Franco," he replied, holding his hand out.

As she shook it, he pulled her closer, whispering in her ear. "I can't fix your problem. But I can make you think it's unimportant, for a while anyway, long enough to forget about it and relax."

Ellen looked at him in semi-fear.

"It's okay really," she said.

"I have the best medicine," he whispered. "Just what you need."

Holding his hand out, he showed her a single iridescent pink capsule.

Ellen sat staring silently, not knowing how to respond.

"Here," he said handing her the pill. "This is my very best, from me to you. But don't drive!" he exclaimed seriously. "No way can you drive, but you'll feel like new again in a half hour. You'll see, we all need it sometimes. It's a good thing, you'll see."

Smiling at her with a wink, he walked back to the mini skirt girls, looking back and nodding to Ellen before disappearing into the sea of dancers.

Not daring to take the pill, Ellen looked at it in wonder. "What is it even?" she thought. "Who in their right mind would swallow a drug with no idea what it was?"

Ellen had never done a drug before in her life and didn't want to start now, especially not tonight during all this stress and terrible emotion. She nervously held onto the capsule. She didn't even know why, it just felt to her as if it had some value and would be a waste to toss it out. Before she could find a proper place to put it, Jules walked up, bumping into her, she started laughing.

"Elle'... what's up!"

Looking at Ellen's fingers, she saw the tablet.

"Oh my god Ellen what did you have there? Let me see!"

Ellen held out the pill in her hand.

"Wow! That's Franco's good shit. You're gonna' love that. I mean Love it," Jules laughed. With a wink she turned to order more drinks.

Hearing Jules's approval, Ellen was really curious now.

"Jules!" Ellen said, tugging at her sleeve. "Jules, what is this?"

Jules turned to her with eyes wide. "You mean you don't know?"

Ellen felt embarrassed. "No, someone gave it to me."

Jules smiled. "That's X Ellen."

Ellen stared at the pill. "What does it do?" she asked nervously.

Jules put a hand on her shoulder. "What does it do? It makes you feel like you're in perfect love on your honeymoon. It's like riding a roller coaster just after you won the lottery. It's pure happy, pure heaven."

Ellen was intrigued. "Will I freak out if I take it?" she asked.

"You might if you see a guy you like!" Jules replied, laughing. "You'll be all over him and ready to make a baby on the dance floor. Its X Ellen... It's a sex drug. It takes away inhibitions and stirs up sexual feeling like you've never felt."

Now Ellen was even more intrigued. "Could this little pill be the answer?" she wondered. Could the pink capsule in her hand fill her with the confidence she lacked but so desperately needed right now?

"Maybe this is just what I need to get up the nerve to talk to Rob," she thought. With no other option, she liked the idea.

"Are you sure I'm not going to end up in the hospital Jules? Are you sure?" Ellen asked.

Jules sipped her drink and shook her head.

"I've never heard of anyone fucked up on Fran's shit. He has really pure stuff. I've taken it a hundred times, we all have. Try it Ellen, you're not driving right?" Jules asked as she waved to the bartender.

"No I don't have a car. Carl always drives me and dad around," Ellen replied.

"Well Elle' all I can say is take it and hang on to your panties. Or not take it and give it to me."

Jules laughed again, watching as Ellen pondered. After a second of thought, with no hesitation whatsoever, Ellen put the pill in her mouth and took a big swig off her Long Island.

"Whew Girl!" Jules exclaimed. "We are going to have fun tonight! Where is Franny, I want to take one right now with you, we can peak at the same time."

With those words, Jules dashed off into the crowd looking for Francisco. Ellen sat back, her heart beating fast, nervousness tingling through her. She had stopped crying and feeling sad. She had just noticed that.

"Would this drug be just what I needed? What would this mysterious X do to me?" she wondered. She couldn't even imagine. She could only wonder, wait and see.

After a few short minutes Jules returned, arms waving high. "I got it! Now, you and I are on the same sweet train. We will be feeling the same vibes at the same time until morning," Jules said with a huge smile.

"Morning!" Ellen replied with a horrified scowl. "I can't be all messed up in the morning. My dad has dialysis at seven a.m. He needs to be up by six to make it on time. I have to wake him up, get him ready and wait outside until his ride comes and then I have to go to..."

In a near panic, Ellen ranted on about her early morning duties. Jules interrupted with a single finger over Ellen's lips.

"Shhhh, with any luck you will be waking up in a strange bed with a hot guy by six am." Jules said with a laugh. "Jesus, relax Ellen. I know you're not used to the nightlife but this is our usual routine. Just go with the flow, I won't leave you. Just remember whatever you're feeling, I feel the same thing. It makes it easier when you have a co-pilot."

Standing silently, Ellen thought what Jules said. "True, her co-workers did do this kind of stuff nightly. True, they often looked haggard and were sometimes late, but they are always at work. No one had disappeared or died after an all night bar romp." Ellen realized her handicap was her inexperience. She decided to let go and indulge in this strange new world.

"Martinez! One more of these please," Ellen yelled with a wave over the rowdy bar crowd. From behind the register, Martinez glanced over at her with nod.

Ellen was beginning to get it now. Things were looking excitingly up. Sipping her fresh cocktail, she listened intently. Jules was talking to the Hooters girls again as Miguel, Armando and Micah surrounded them. Ellen was soothed by feelings of warmth, acceptance and safety. She was nestled deep amongst her co-workers, far from Rob's view. She listened to several conversations around her simultaneously.

Miguel and Micah were engaged in deciding which girl among the Hooter's servers they wanted to take home for the night. Micah was eyeing Anne Maria, arguing something about "Never having a Latina before but always wanting one." Miguel was arguing Anne Maria was Mexican, as was he. Therefore he had the best shot. Not to mention, she was the hottest and therefore fair game.

Their voices faded as Ellen honed in on Jules. She covered her mouth, talking with a hushed voice to Anne Marie, shooting furtive glances Miguel and Micah's way. Ellen could see they were going to pair up tonight.

"Was it that easy?" Ellen wondered. "Did people just whack up the players and divvy off who has sex with whom for tonight?"

It seemed there could be no other explanation. "What about Jules? She was dancing with Miguel very intimately earlier. Why was she helping Anne Maria choose her one night stand?" Ellen was appalled, and yet thrilled at the same time. The rampant promotion of promiscuous sex, strong alcohol drinks and drug use her co-workers shared was shocking to her. The casualness of the whole affair was hard for Ellen to grasp.
Chapter 12

Almost twenty minutes had passed since taking the tablet, yet Ellen felt no discernable effect. She was sipping on her drink when she noticed the dance floor lights trail off across the room. Big streaks of neon clouded her vision of the crowd.

"Oh my god! Jules... The lights are crazy looking!" Ellen said pointing.

Jules laughed. Then she explained to the Hooter's girls about Ellen's first X experience. They all beamed a smile with a laugh as they raised their glasses with a 'Cheers.' Ellen feigned a smile but wasn't a bit less nervous than she had been.

"Elle' Baby! You seeing tracers?" Anne Marie cried out, sloshing her drink as she spoke.

Jules smiled at her. "Ellen, 'tracers' are when the lights drag out and make long streaks, it's a good thing. It means our buzz is coming on," she said reassuringly.

Ellen listened but felt no comfort in her words. Suddenly she felt a hot glow flush her skin, tingling heat rushed through her. She realized she could see people's mouths move but couldn't make out the words anymore. Their voices turned into a mish-mash of 'Wah wump ah wamp wah....' She thought of Charlie Brown's parents, they talked like that. "Was that cartoon secretly referencing drug use all these years?" she wondered.

Her mind was racing. Her skin was nearly burning. Her eyes were foggy. Lights illuminated brilliant colors and twisted into dreamy shapes. The cold against her hot fingers made her realize she still had a drink in her hand. She took a sip, then pushed it across the bar, still half full. This drug was more than enough to handle, adding the extra alcohol would simply be too much.

Jules noticed her push the drink away.

"Elle', are you feeling okay? Are you sick?"

Ellen replied slowly, "It's too strong. I'm feeling hot... I don't want anymore alcohol. I think I need..."

Jules interrupted. "Girl, you need beer now. Beer will smooth you out without making you drunk sick."

Jules took the Long Island and called out to the bartender.

"Martinez! Mich Ultra!"

Martinez slid Jules a cold brown bottle.

"Here Elle', switch to this and all will be well," Jules assured her.

Ellen had always hated beer, hated it. But Jules had ordered too fast for Ellen to stop her. She took a sip of the beer and made a foul face.

"Give it a chance Elle', it's a great background drink. It barely has any alcohol."

Ellen took bigger swigs. She found after the first few, it wasn't as bad as she expected. In fact, it was becoming refreshing to her.

Miguel pushed into the middle of the circle of friends. Holding his hand up high, he pointed to each person, counting their heads.

"Seven, eight, nine, ten... Martinez! Ten Jager-bombs!" he said as he tossed a wad of crumpled bills on the bar.

Jules threw another $5 bill on top of it. The other friends in the crowd also tossed fives and singles on the growing pile of wet money. Ellen looked at the pile of cash and realized it was at least a 100% tip, or more.

"My God Jules..." Ellen said with surprise.

Jules stopped her there with a serious look.

"Elle', this what we do. We want to roll, we roll. We want to drink, we drink. We don't wait in lines at the bar like the nine-to-fiver's. Martinez takes care of us. We take care of him. Why do you think he just stops waiting on the line every time we call out a drink? Why do you think we never pay a cover? He's one of us. Screw the dollar bill tips, we tip the most, we get the most. Martinez will walk with a couple hundred just from us tonight. We're safe here. Trust me, it's worth it"

Laughing, Jules leaned on Anne Marie, "It's a service industry thing Elle'... forget about it." She cooed through her laughter, nearly falling off her seat.

"I think this X is coming on strong Elle' Better get ready!" Jules said smiling.

Ellen looked at her in horror.

"Ready? Coming on? What does that mean?" Ellen asked with worry across her face.

She watched their faces strangely begin to contort as they laughed. Miguel, Armando, Jules, Anne Marie, Lexus, Katelyn, and the Latino prep crew Ellen couldn't remember the names of. It was suddenly scary. The crowd yelled, spitting with every word. Drunken souls spewing gibberish Ellen couldn't understand, all the while laughing. Was this feeling a bad thing? What was this drug? She began to feel a fear.

Just as the panic began to set in, Miguel tapped Ellen's hand with a rocks glass full of liquor, coal black.

"Eets a Jager-bomb... Eets good! Here, eets for you." Miguel stood smiling, holding out the shot for Ellen.

Everyone else took their drink in hand, holding each to the center of the crowd instinctively. Ellen quickly grabbed hers and held it out with theirs just as Miguel started toasting, shouting loudly over the music.

"Our brains are gone, our livers shot, but the liquor, we still got!"

A circle of cheers and laughter rang out. Everyone threw back their shots with one drink. Ellen couldn't drink it all at once, but did manage to get it down in three big swallows.

Last to finish, all eyes watched as Ellen drained the last inch of black liquor from her glass. With a loud crash, the crowd erupted in applause.

"Yeeaaahh! There you go Ellen! Hell yeah!" They cheered Ellen as she swallowed the last drop of her giant shot with a disgusted grimace across her face.

Feeling her skin grow hotter, Ellen wiped her brow. She was sweating badly now. Wiping her forehead and cheeks, she paused, leaning dizzily on the bar top. Martinez threw her a cold towel with ice in the center. She smiled towards him as she held it against her neck.

Her pulse bumped rapidly against the ice, cooling the blood to her brain, calming her racing emotions with each slowing pulse. Wiping her face, slowly she rubbed her eyes with the cool towel. Her blurred vision smeared the sights before her more with each blink.

Beginning to see an out of focus solitary silhouette standing close in front her, Ellen stood squinting as she tried to make out the face. The figure leaned closer, shadowing out the dance floor lights. With several more fast blinks she batted her eyes, desperately trying to focus on the blurry figure. Coming into soft focus, she could just make out the person's identity, it was... Rob. Instantly she was horrified.

"Ellen!" Rob yelled as he shook her arms.

With Rob's sudden shaking, Ellen lost her center. She lapsed back against the barstool. Falling back slowly, smiling as she slid down the seat. She managed to stay in the stool, thanks to Rob's quick grasp.

"Jesus Ellen! What did the hell you drink?" Rob yelled over the music.

Ellen laughed, "I had two of those," she said pointing to an empty bar top. "And one of these," she said holding out her beer... "A horrible shot... and something special!" she replied, nodding her head.

"What do you mean, something special?" Rob asked angrily, shaking her harder.

"Something that will help me do.... What I really want to do but can't..." she replied nodding off, hanging her head on her limp arm, pointing at the floor and murmuring.

"Jules, what the fuck!" Rob yelled, turning to the blonde bartender.

"She's fine Rob. She's just a newbie. Relax already, she's drinking Mich Ultra for Christ's Sake. I have her, okay?"

Rob glared at Jules, then looked back, still concerned with Ellen. He watched as Ellen jabbered on with some indecipherable explanation of her current state.

Realizing Sandra would be wondering where he was, he looked over at their booth. She was still seated by the window. He knew that soon she would be growing impatient. It was as if she was his new jealous girlfriend.

"Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?" he wondered. Obviously there was an implied relationship. Otherwise, he wouldn't be concerned with her this very moment.

"Does she see this as the beginning of a ongoing relationship?" He thought about it briefly then re-focused on the unnerving situation in front of him. Ellen, seemingly wasted, was now laughing as she held her empty bottle up for another beer. He had never seen her really laugh before. She was hanging with Jules and the other crewmembers like long time best friends, which was a new thing for her. Plus, she was drinking, that was also a first. Ellen's staggering posture caused him serious concern. But then there was Sandra.

The night spent with Sandra rolling in the bed was a fond memory. It was a convenient release at the time. But now, that indiscretion had revealed unforeseen consequences. It was a tough topic he could discuss with no one, for many reasons, especially Sandra. For one, she was the manager of The Good Ship. She had the authority to fire anyone she wanted, including Rob or Ellen.

Even though Sandra had always shown favoritism towards Ellen, Rob knew it was purely professional. Now, with the kiss she might have witnessed, it may become personal. Sandra may not have seen the kiss when she came into the office, but still he wondered...

"If she sees me here with Ellen, what then?" The very thought made him nervous.

If Rob's attention towards Ellen angered Sandra, she may toss her off the ship. No doubt about that. Servers are plentiful, and The Good Ship was a hot commodity on the Cincinnati Riverfront. Ellen would be better than her replacement for certain, but it wouldn't make the slightest difference, Sandra would boot her anyway. Sure Ellen could get a new job, but not likely one this profitable. She had her ailing father, their bills and her hard life. A delay in income could crush her. Rob knew that well.

During his last semester of culinary school, Rob's parents had died in a car accident. An only child, with no other relatives, he decided to stay in New York with his schoolmates and work. After several temporary positions, he joined on at a well-respected New York eatery. Bad luck and unfair politics ended that position unexpectedly when an owner's unqualified son decided he wanted Rob's job.

After losing the job, things snowballed from bad to worse. In just weeks, he also lost his apartment, girlfriend, car and all of his furniture over that unfortunate incident. It was a bad memory. A long story, one best not told. Luckily, a Career Builder resume landed him the head chef job on The Good Ship. It was a big step up for Rob and Ralph was excited to have a New York Chef running his line. Moving to Ohio by bus with his meager belongings in a bag, Rob found himself starting over with next to nothing. It had been a long hard struggle to get back on his feet.

Knowing firsthand the hardship of losing an income with no notice, he felt he had to protect Ellen's job from Sandra's jealous wrath, if there was one. But to what extent? Hide his growing feelings for Ellen from Sandra? He found himself longing to know Ellen more and discover the secrets she kept to herself. Of all the girls he knew, Ellen suddenly became the one he would like to spend his precious free time with, if only she would open up to him.

"Why now?" he wondered. He had worked with her for two years. Was it her moment of weakness earlier tonight? Her loss of control had landed her in his arms. Somehow, it was all so intriguing. Rob's interests in Ellen where growing to an unexpected level. He had not intended to become attracted to her, it simply just happened. Unlike the flirty servers he had casually dated, he saw in Ellen the measure of a truly kind person. He realized now, Ellen was the type of person he had been longing for since his mother died. Ellen's subtle grace and honest kindness reminded him of her. It brought back deep feelings he had locked away for years. Being near Ellen tonight, he could see and feel her pure soul. It moved him more than he had never experienced with anyone else before.

Contemplating his next move, the tension inside him was splitting. Sandra was just a few yards away, still waiting for him to return with her drink. Ellen was sitting a few feet away, smiling with laughing dilated eyes, looking dead into his own. Something in those eyes drew him to her so strongly. She felt so real while everyone else felt so false. Watching her smile, he knew he wanted her in his life.

Sitting in her vinyl-covered booth, Sandra avoided the black sticky edge of frayed duct tape on her seat. She fidgeted as she thumbed through her phone. She scanned the crowd impatiently, growing more anxious with each passing minute. Where was Rob? She wasn't concerned with the slobbering sluts, they didn't appeal to him. She was thinking back about Ellen. She couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw Rob quickly break a kiss with her. Whatever happened, she knew the two of them were in the middle of a moment in the office.

"What would have happened if I had not interrupted?" she wondered with a scowl.

Even though Ellen could hear Rob speaking to her, his words were indecipherable. She watched as his eyes focused fiercely into her own. She felt soothingly warm, carelessly calm. Yet all the while, she was feeling a great tingling that saturated her through and through with strange vibrations. She watched Rob's lips move. Rather than listening to the words, she found herself addicted to the movement and motion of his mouth. Her eyes were intensely focused now. Every nuance of his lip lines was magnified. The shape, color and glisten of his lips became more enticing with every motion. Just then the music changed, the crowd cheered, waving arms high. She could feel the crowd's enthusiasm rushing through her.

The dance floor lights shot super bright white light in all directions. Washing out the colors, everything seemed shadowy black or blinding white. Wordlessly, Ellen looked at Rob. He was waiting with great anticipation for her answer to a question she had never even heard him ask. She was caught up in the grip of the intense feeling, the rush of emotion and excitement.

In that moment, staring at Rob's lips, Ellen jumped off her stool. Wrapping both arms around him, she kissed him hard. Eyes wide, she looked square into his eyes as she crushed her lips onto his. Her self-control was out of control. She was reacting to a fire building inside her. All her thoughts were consumed with Rob's eyes. With this new wonderful feeling fueling her desire, she could see everything she needed to know in those eyes. Without a word, in the midst of the kiss, she saw... relief and longing.

The kiss slowly broke. Ellen clung to Rob. His arms slowly slid around her waist, up her back, to her shoulders. His warm hands slid down her arms to her elbows. Slowly he grasped her arms and pushed her away. His face looked troubled as he glanced at the floor. As he looked back up, for an instant, in his eyes.... Ellen could see longing in those eyes.

Standing back, she sat back down, smiling as he spoke. Whatever he was saying was irrelevant to her now. She had just caught a glimpse into his true soul. He could say anything he wanted, but she had felt his acceptance of her kiss. Soothed, she relaxed in the moment, unable and unwilling to be distracted by any other thought.

"Ellen! I really want to talk to you but I didn't know you would be here. I came with Sandra, I uh... I need to talk to her," Rob yelled over the music.

The words suddenly rang clear into her ears. Ellen pressed a single finger against his lips.

"Shhh, come here."

With bright eyes, she took his wrist, tugging him into the sea of sweaty bodies.

Pushing her way through the crowd she turned, walking backwards, smiling back at Rob as she pulled his hand. Backing up against the ladies room door, she paused, looking deeply at Rob again. He stood in silent wonder. She backed into the door, dragging him in with a fast yank. He looked at her face. It was positively beaming with happiness. Her once blue eyes were now nearly solid black; her pupils dilated 100%, her smile never fading, her skin flushed, red and glistening.

He knew that look; Ellen was deep in an X trip.

"Ellen!" he said shaking her, "What are you doing? We have to go back outside..."

She smiled, staring at him silently as her fingers fumbled with his zipper, tugging relentlessly at his pants.

"Jesus! Ellen... We can't... C'mon Ellen you have to stop..."

She saw a flash of panic on his face, causing her to pause and step back.

"You don't want me to... I mean I thought you..." she whispered.

Just then, the room seemed to swell with a beating pulse. The walls moved in and out as if they were breathing deeply. Rob's face blurred. Ellen felt weak. Looking down at her feet, the floor moved under her, rocking from side to side like a playground swing building momentum. It suddenly shot up from below, pulling her down with its sway. Thrusting out an arm, she caught herself on the counter, almost falling. Rob grabbed her quickly, pulling her upright again.

"Ellen you really need to..." she heard him say.

His words drifted into a dull drone. Her eyes watered, her stomach started wrenching. Throat too dry to speak, she lurched to the nearby sink, suddenly spewing violently into the bowl. Rob put his arm around her tenderly as she stood hanging her head over the sink, trying to catch her breath. Eyes too teary to see now, weakness stole her stance. Sinking down to her knees, she slumped against the graffiti covered bathroom wall.

Resting there, on her knees in front of Rob, she could only see enough through her watering eyes to make out his unbuttoned zipper. Just seconds ago, that zipper held the promise of excitement. Now it was a slap in the face reminder of her foolishness.

"I'm so ridiculous, it's all the fault of this crazy drug," she thought to herself as she sighed and rested against Rob's legs. He rubbed her head, brushing her hair away from her sweating face. Kneeling beside her, he held her in a calming silence.

Crashing their comfortable calm, the door swung open loudly as two girls stumbled in.

"Hey man!" one of them cried out. "This is the girls room.... Oh... Oh never mind..." she said, seeing Ellen on her knees in front of Rob.

"Hey! Don't mind us, we just have to pee!" she squealed with a giggle as she closed the stall door.

The other girl looked at Rob laughing as she went into the adjacent stall.

Pulling Ellen up off the floor, motioning her to the door in silence, Rob tried to get her back out before she passed out. Ellen sunk back down, unable to stand. Sitting on the cold floor, she hung her head in her hands. Rob looked around nervously, deciding to peek out the door to see who would notice his departure from the ladies restroom. If he could manage to go out unnoticed, he was ready to carry Ellen out of the bathroom with him. Peeking out the door, he watched as people passed, no one noticed, no one saw him watching. No one except... Sandra.

Walking to the bathroom, Sandra almost opened the door in Rob's face. He panicked and ducked back, realizing there was no way to avoid her he quickly opened the door again. He knew he had to go out to her or she would walk in and see Ellen. With intentional calm and casualness, he stepped out the door in a trot, walking past Sandra as if he didn't notice she was there.

"What the hell Rob!" she yelled, grabbing his arm. "Who were those two girls you were in there with?" she asked with a scowl.

Rob looked at her with eyebrows raised high.

"What two girls? I walked into the wrong bathroom. I guess I wasn't looking."

Sandra stood back, taking her hand off his arm and propping it on her hip.

"I just watched two drunk girls go in there."

Standing with no reply, Rob shook his head. Before he could speak, she questioned him again.

"That's what you're over here doing all this time. That's what you left me sitting alone for? Drunk bar girls? And silly me thought you were getting me a drink." Sandra said, shaking in anger.

Rob stammered something but Sandra was too livid to listen.

"Maybe I should see what these girls have to say about it."

Slowly walking towards the door, Sandra glared back at him with angry eyes. Rob walked closer to her, arms out, trying to explain. Sandra brushed past his reach, rushing into the restroom to confront the girls. Rob grabbed her arm, stopping her briefly. She shot him a steely stare and yanked her arm away. What could he do? Nothing... he simply watched.

Pushing the door open, Sandra saw only one girl, sitting in a heap on the floor. It was Ellen. Her heart dropped, skipping a beat for an instant. Ellen never even looked up, she didn't care who was watching anymore. Sandra said nothing. She turned back out the door, striding right past Rob without even a glance.

Rob felt a sickening sinking feeling of dread sour his stomach. This was beyond any relationship between Sandra and himself. Sandra was the boss of The Good Ship. This could mean both Rob and Ellen getting fired, certainly Ellen. She was a server, a great server, but expendable for sure. Bad scenes unfolded instantly in his mind.

He stood in silence, wondering what to do or say next. "Shit! What about Ellen!" he thought he watched Sandra disappear into the crowd. He remembered Ellen's drugged state and turned back to the restroom. He had to help her, Sandra be damned. Opening the door, he called out loud. "Ellen!" She wasn't on the floor anymore. Pushing the doors open on the stalls, he looked in every one. She wasn't there either. She was gone.

"Fuck!" he yelled as he yanked the door open.

Stomping out, he franticly scanned the faces of the crowd for hers.

Helplessly, Ellen had sat on the cold wet floor of the bathroom for what seemed to her an eternity. As a wave of sudden relief washed through her, she had managed to stand up and slip out into the crowd with no one noticing.

Standing in the alley behind The Pub, she caught her breath as she leaned back against the cool brick wall. The muffled sounds of music, cheering, and bottles clanking into the trash sang out against the blackness. The stink of a nearby dumpster lofting through the night air made her feel sick to her stomach again. After a brief moment of doubt, she thought about going back inside. Then she thought about her dad. He must be panicked by now, wondering where she was.

Conflicting thoughts whirred around her head, then the heaving hit again. Leaning on the brick wall, she coughed up the last of the Long Islands onto the sidewalk. Instantly a cool wave of relief washed over her. The night air breeze blew across her face.

"I gotta' go home," she thought. "Yes, home, to my home, to my bed."

Her mind made up, she walked to the front door. Carl the Cabbie would take her home. Standing under the neon light, she scanned the streets. Fumbling with her phone, she tried to find Carl's number. Her vision was still blurred and doubled. She tried her best, but after repeated attempts, her sweating fingers simply couldn't make the phone function.
Chapter 13

Feeling the refreshing cool breeze rush past her, Ellen felt awake again. She breathed in the night air as she looked up at the stars. A sliver of moon was shining bright, she realized she rarely ever looked up and noticed the sky lately.

"It's a nice night, no rain, I can just walk from here. It will do me good."

With that thought, she took a confident step towards home as she walked down the sidewalk. It was ten blocks to her apartment, but she was comfortable with the task.

"Time to think... a chance to walk off this crazy pill... I will feel better by the time I get home."

Ellen convinced herself this was just what she needed. "A good walk home in the breeze to clear my head."

Walking past the Levy, Ellen could smell the kitchen exhaust from the Riverfront pubs and hear the music cutting across the night. Passing through the parking lot of the corner liquor store, she looked up a throng of drug dealers and thugs. Past this block, she would be in another world entirely. It was a stretch of the city she never ventured into alone. It was the Dark Side of Newport, avoided by all but the lost.

As she passed under each empty stoplight, heading deeper into the dark, the city scene took a darker tone. Just past the old 1940's mafia owned club, The Syndicate Ball Room, three junkies were wrestling a elderly drunk for his forty ounce beer bottle. Grabbing his paper-bagged beverage, they shoved him into a chain link fence, searching his pockets with quick fingers. Snatching a few crumpled bills from his pants, they kicked him hard as he slumped to the gravel.

A short Greek storeowner stood smoking a cigar at a side door of the greasy Gramma's Pizza parlor. He watched unconcerned as the punks fumbled the grey bearded man around, laughing as they kicked his ribs. People passed by on the sidewalk, no one looked over. No one bothered.

Heading on, past the Pepper Pod diner, past the Dixie Chili and along the strip bar row, Ellen looked into the passing faces, hollow eyes sunk deep in shadows. She heard rap music coming out of the Brass Ass, an ancient rundown redneck strip bar that had endured against Newport's will for ages.

Two cops, parked side-by-side blocked an alley entrance. Furtively looking over without breaking stride, Ellen spied the policemen standing around a twisted motionless body on the street. One cop was taking photos, his camera flash lit up the alley in quick succession, blink blink blink it flashed like lightning. Speeding up her pace, she passed by nervously.

The lights on the streets began to drag out into long tracers. Her focus had sharpened since leaving The Pub. But her over dilated eyes were still over run when faced with light of any kind. She could see and smell and feel her surroundings more than she ever could remember.

"How long does this crazy thing last?" she wondered.

The tracers assured her that the wicked drug was still active. Confident in her thoughts, she felt fine now. But the unexpected side effects caught her off guard, reminding her she was still solidly under the drug's influence.

Sirens wailed several streets over. Dirty homeless figures scurried out of the alleys from dark corners to see what drama was unfolding. Ellen had usually passed these streets peering carelessly through the window of a locked cab. Carl always took her home, drove her and her dad to stores and medical appointments. Carl was street wise and capable. A Vietnam veteran like her dad, he possessed a natural instinct and aura that seemed to shield him from the vile nature of the city's underbelly. He wasn't aggressive, but calmingly confident. Ellen had always looked forward to riding with him. She had grown to consider him a friend, nearly family.

Carl was nowhere around tonight. This strange Saturday night had darkened into a whirlwind of adventure, excitement, and heartache for Ellen. "A crazy night to follow a crazy day," she thought as she continued her stride. She thought about how good it would feel to slip under the blankets into her own cozy bed. Hug her dad with a goodnight kiss and doze off watching an old black & white movie... Sleep this terrible drug away and wake up tomorrow refreshed.

As Ellen stepped into her apartment, her dad was asleep on the sofa. 'Somewhere over the Rainbow' was quietly coming from the TV as The Wizard of Oz played on the screen. By the flickering television light she could see the room. It was a total wreck. Empty beer bottles, a pizza box and snack wrappers were strewn across the table and floor. Unconcerned, she stepped through the trash, shuffling down the hall.

Standing in the bathroom, she washed her face. Running the shower, she sat on the toilet with her head in her hands waiting for it to warm. Stepping into the hot water, she closed her eyes. She stood still as the water ran over her face, filling her ears, drowning out all sound for minutes without moving. Turning off the faucet, she stepped out, dried off, and walked to her room in a robe.

Opening her bedroom door, her bed looked like a long lost friend. Warm, safe and soft, Ellen looked at it for a moment before reaching into the cedar pine chest at the foot of bed. Taking out a big quilt her grandmother made. Lovingly, Ellen spread it across the covers. Sliding under it, she tucked her head into folds of the quilt. Even through the aroma of cedar, she could still smell her grandmother's house. She never used this quilt; for fear that washing it would take away the scent. Now, for the first time in years, she wrapped up in it, clung to it, inhaling it deeply with every breath, drifting into a calm deep sleep.

Ellen didn't wake in time to help her dad onto the bus. He waited for her, and even called her name several times but there was no reply. Peeking in the door, he saw see her sleeping, totally covered in his mother's quilt. He could see her breathing, but dared not wake her. "Was she sick?" he wondered. She had always been awake and prepared early. Knowing she came home especially late, he decided not to disturb her.

Fumbling out the door to the elevator, he bumped his wheelchair to the curb. As his bus slowly took off, he became intensely worried about her mysterious state. He had never seen her like this before. He knew he couldn't do much for her, but he felt a burning desire to talk to her about his feelings, his appreciation for all her efforts and how much he loved her. He had never really told her how he felt and what wonderful things he wanted for her. He thought about this with overwhelming regret. Tears filled his eyes as the bus rolled on down the bumpy broken streets.

At the dialysis clinic, Sgt. Marco took his place beside the all too familiar life-saving machine. His regular nurse noticed his somber look.

"You feel alright today? You look a little down," she asked with genuine concern.

He nodded silently, staring at the floor as she inserted the needle into his arm. As the fluid flowed through the plastic tubes, he began to feel a pain. Dialysis always made him feel sick. He had come to expect that over the past year. This time he felt a pain unlike the usual. His side suddenly started splitting, intense pain searing through his belly and back.

"Ah! Oh God... Oh my God!" he cried out.

The nurse rushed in looking horrified.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly.

Quickly disconnecting the machine, she gently propped him back, checking his vital signs.

"Your pulse is racing," she said. "You need to try to calm down. Take it easy. Slow deep breathes. Just sit back. I will get you help. Just stay still and calm down."

Jogging out the door, she called out for the doctor. As the doctor walked in, Marco was nearly passed out from the intense pain. His eyes were blinded by the doctor's bright flashlight. He felt the tight clamp of a blood pressure tester squeezing his arm. The doctor examined him silently. Quietly he called to the nurse.

"Call for an EMT to transport him to U.C. Tell them we have a patient with acute kidney failure, possibly a kidney shutdown. Have the ER standing by."

Marco heard every word but could not respond. He knew this was bad. In Vietnam he had seen strong young men die in less than 30 minutes from ruptured livers and kidneys. He knew once the toxins they contained entered the blood there was little anyone could do.

"Mary, call my house, call my neighbor if there is no answer!" he cried out.

"Don't worry, we will inform you daughter," the nurse replied.

"No! Please God call her now! Have her meet me there. I may not have another chance to tell her what I must tell her! Please, please just call her..."

He faded with a grimace as the pain took over. Nearly passing out, she could see in in his face this was a desperate dying wish. The searing pain silenced his cries, but the need to talk to Ellen one last time was screaming out through his terrified gaze. Sitting in his wheel chair, staring at her with tearing pleading eyes, she understood.

The nurse leaned over patting his hand.

"Okay, I will call. Don't worry, now just relax."

He nodded kindly. Mustering all his effort, he whispered a heartfelt reply.

"Thank you Mary, you have always been a great comfort to me. I thank you so..."

She heard the tone of a goodbye in his words and felt tears welling in her own eyes.

"Let's not get in a panic now Sergeant," she said firmly, trying to mask her sinking feeling. "You're going straight into the ER. They have machines that can replace your kidney function. Let's just relax now and let's get you there safely, you will be fine I'm sure."

He felt comfort in her words but the knowing look in her watering eyes gave away her true fears. He was neither naive nor a fool. He knew his fate was dire. As his eyes closed, vivid colored scenes flooded his mind. Fast images of a newborn baby Ellen in his hands and quick bits of her growing up flashed before his eyes. His long lost wife smiled to him, her hair dancing in the breeze as she stood waving from the shore of a beautiful ocean. The vicious bright yellow streak of tracer fire whizzing past his ear deep in jungle of Vietnam. The wide-eyed look of horror on the face of the unlucky Viet Cong teenager he had killed with a sudden shot. A smiling Mai Lee, waving goodbye as he bumped away on a sunny day in the back of Jeep. The freezing ride home in the back of a Marine cargo plane... The sounds, smells, faces and memories of the past took over his reality as his body was hoisted into the ambulance.

Ellen's phone lay resting in her purse on the floor. It buzzed a muffled ring many times but wasn't loud enough to wake her deep sleep. She was still dreaming, wrapped in warm wonderfulness snuggled in her bed as the nurse continued to try to get through to her. Leaving a fourth message, the frustrated nurse hung up.

As he lay strapped in the ambulance, Sgt. Marco saw the images fade to black as he began to slip into a numb sleep. Sirens screaming, he was speeding across the city at full bore. "Did they call Ellen? Would she be there when he arrived?" he worried he may never see her again.

As the last conscious thought ran through his brain, he prayed he could see her just one more time, before it was too late. He didn't even care about dying any longer. He only cared about seeing Ellen again.

"Just one more time... please just give me one last time..." he whispered, as his world went dark.
Chapter 14

Waking early, Rob's sleep had been disturbed all night by his worry over Ellen. He wondered how and why she disappeared after he walked away from the restroom. Did she think he abandoned her there alone, not to return? She couldn't have realized he was only trying to keep Sandra at bay and avoid a bad confrontation.

His feelings were becoming overwhelming. He found himself nervously jittering. His clouded mind lacked the focus to even make his morning coffee. Twice he tried. The first time he forgot the coffee beans, ending up with a pot of hot clear water. The second time he forgot to turn the coffee maker back on. Shooting it an angry stare every few minutes, wondering why it was so slow. Abandoning the effort altogether, he dressed hastily and jogged to the street in pursuit of a cup from the corner Sunoco.

The Indian Sunoco station owners always treated Rob with special courtesy. They brewed good fresh coffee too. After filling a large cup, he stood at the counter, searching his pockets for money.

"Hello, Rob!" the dark haired clerk said, rolling the R, as she watched him fumble for change. "You doing okay today? You're looking like you had a big time last night."

She giggled and smiled as Rob handed her a five-dollar bill.

"I'm fine. I just can't think straight this morning," he replied, not looking up.

"Oh Rob... I am thinking you have a lady on your mind today."

His eyes shot to her quickly as she said the words.

"I guess I do. I guess I didn't do it the way I should have..." he mumbled under his breath.

"You're such a handsome man, and you're the big cook at the fancy boat. Any girl should like to marry you Rob. You're a good catch," she said, laughing with sly eyes.

"I don't think she knows how I feel. I guess I need to... Hell, I don't even know how I feel," he said sheepishly.

"Oh Rob. You do know or you wouldn't be so worried," she said as she counted his change.

Handing him the change, her grasp held firm to the bills as Rob tugged to pull them away.

"Listen... You go to her now and tell her. A girl never knows for sure unless the man tells her. If you want this girl, you must go explain to her with no delay... or she will think you have no interest." She looked at him stern.

Letting loose of the bill, she waved him on. "Go, you go now and tell her. Good Luck Rob! Come back again."

He walked away feeling like he had just been scolded by his mother, or given a crash course therapy session, or both. Her advice was true... He could go to Ellen and explain. Why not? Carl knew exactly where she lived. Rob could call Carl and tell him he needed to see Ellen, to take him to her where they could talk, alone, with no conflicts or outside interference. Looking up Carl's number, Rob called him quickly.

A sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Carl, this is Rob, I work with Ellen Addison. I am really worried about her. You know where she lives and I would appreciate you picking me up at my apartment, across from the Second Street Pub and driving me to her house so I..."

Before he could go on, Carl interrupted, "Sit tight. I will be there in five."

With a sigh of relief, he hung up. Rob paced as he waited anxiously. Sipping his coffee, he watched up and down the block for the first glimpse of Carl's cab. Constantly scanning the streets, certain he would be appearing any second.

It seemed like forever before the Crown Vic rolled up to a halt in front. Carl didn't even turn on the meter as they sped away. He asked about Ellen as they drove to her apartment. Rob explained how she had drank too much the night before and disappeared before he could help her.

Carl nodded in the mirror. "I've known her and her dad a long time. Good man, and a fine young woman. I remember her as a girl. They moved to the city when her mother passed, she must have been around five. Great girl. Always a good person, but she seems so lonely. I've never seen her drink or go to a bar before last night. I bet it was to see you young man. I hope you have the best intentions."

Rob nodded. "I do sir. I certainly do," he said as they stopped at Ellen's building. Anxiously pressing the doorbell marked "Addison" he waited. After many minutes there was still no answer. He rang it again and waited, still no reply. Frustrated, he began to scan the building windows, trying to figure out which unit was Ellen's.

Her doorbell was marked unit #6. "That has to be the third floor," Rob thought as walked around the building. "No fire escapes, no stairs outside, only balconies. There were two units it could be. One had a balcony with a gas grill and several outdoor chairs around a table littered with beer cans. The other was nearly empty, except for a row of blooming potted plants. After a bit of blind deducing, he decided the one with flowers had to be hers.

Desperate, worried, yet full of confidence, Rob started climbing the big pipe that ran up the building right beside the flowered patio. Grabbing the cast iron pipe with both hands, he pulled himself up, using the mortar joints in the brick as a foothold. It was slow going, and his feet kept slipping, but determined, he inched his way up.

About thirty feet above the street, he looked down, feeling nervous. It had been more than two decades since he climbed anything. He mentally laughed at himself over his struggle. "Jesus! I'm barely off the ground but it looks like if I fall to the sidewalk from here I will be in some serious pain." His fear was stalling his progress.

Holding firm to a good spot, Rob stretched his toe atop a pipe bracket. Pausing for a moment, he contemplated his next step. He looked up the pipe for more footholds. The next one was at least five feet over his head, dead even with the deck.

Feeling his strength slowly slipping, he considered going back down while he still could. Then the image of Ellen's sudden disappearance fueled his fire again.

Mustering one more jolt of energy and courage, Rob reached high on the pipe and pulled his feet off their safe perch. Skidding his shoes on the brick face, he strained with all his strength and pulled up even with the balcony.

"God I hope this old ass pipe doesn't come loose," he thought as he moved up higher towards the deck.

His fears were focused on the creaking pipe as he worked his way up inch by inch. His eyes were even with the deck. But now what? He would have to let go of the pipe with one arm to grab the deck. Testing his strength to see if he could even hold on with just one hand, he let loose of the pipe. Just then, his shoe slipped off the brick. Quickly gripping the deck with four fingers, he was now hanging off the deck by one straining hand.

Legs dangling in mid-air, he felt the hot flush of panic as he swung above the hard concrete. With no foothold and a strained grip that was quickly fading, he reached with his shoe tip, feeling for any tiny bump or crevice to get a step. He found none. After nearly a minute of this, he felt true panic coming on. In mere seconds, he would lose his grip and fall for certain.

"Help!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Ellen!" he cried again louder. "Ellen help!"

After repeated attempts, Rob realized it was too much to pull himself up. With a deep breath, he pulled up hard with all his might. It was then he knew he couldn't do it. He simply lacked the strength to get an elbow on the deck floor. It was over. In a moment he would fall. In sheer desperation, he cried out again, louder than before.

"Ellen! Help! Please someone help me!"

But there was no response. His fingers failing, he shifted his weight from one hand to the other, giving each hand a brief seconds rest, scratching for a better grip. It was to no avail. Hanging his head he looked at the concrete below. In a moment he would die, or be broken to pieces to live on in a wheelchair, or bed-ridden in a coma.

Thinking about a life wasted as he hung from his fingertips, Rob didn't care anymore about The Ship, he couldn't even cry. He wasn't ready to die but his time was running out faster than he ever imagined. He knew he had a short minute, or less before his drop would come. With one last breath he cried out again.

"Ellen! Help! Ellen if you're in there... If you can hear me... Please!"

His voice faded as he felt his grip slipping. As he was losing his last bit of grip, the patio door slid open.

"Who the hell is yelling out here?" a voice called out.

Rob shot his head up. It was an old man, poking his head out the sliding door.

"Help! Please help me!" Rob cried out to him.

The old man looked around but didn't notice Rob hanging from the deck floor. Walking out onto the patio, he rested his arms on the deck railing, looking around for the voice. Rob could see his face now.

"Down here! Help I'm falling!"

The old man looked down and saw Rob hanging off his balcony.

"Well, shit my britches! What the hell are you doing?" he asked, looking down at Rob.

"I'm falling! Hurry!" Rob called out.

The old man scurried over the edge, getting down on his knees, he reached his arms through the railing, grabbing Rob's wrists.

"Oh God, thank you. Please pull me up."

The man pulled with all his strength, but he couldn't budge Rob's hanging weight.

"I can't! You're' too heavy, and I'm too old."

He was trying hard, but his old age had left him without the strength to pull Rob up.

"Oh God!" Rob cried. "I'm going to fall!"

The old man tried to calm him. "Now don't get all panicked, just hold on a second. I am going to let go and get a rope."

With those words he let loose of Rob and went back into the apartment.

"A rope?" Rob thought. "How can I grab a rope? I can't let go!"

The old man came back out, expertly tying a loop on one end of the rope. Lowering it down even with Rob's feet, he tied the other end off on the railing.

"Now get your foot in that loop, you can use it as a step to push up."

Rob looked down at the rope and touched it with his toe. Pushing his shoe tip into the loop, he managed to get it under his foot. Testing it with his weight, he found it was strong enough to hold him.

"I got it!" he said with relief as he stood up on the rope, taking the strain off his hands. Using the rope as a foothold, he pushed himself a foot higher towards the deck, wrestling an elbow on the platform.

"There you go," the old man said. "Now reach up and grab that railing with your other hand, you can do it."

Nervously, Rob reached up to the iron railing and grasped onto it for dear life.

"Hold on tight. I'm going to shorten up the rope," the old man said.

"Okay, hurry," Rob replied, nearly out of breath.

The old man pulled the rope up and slipped the knot tight.

"Now stand up on the rope again."

Rob did and found he was able to swing one knee onto the deck's edge. Pausing, he caught his breath. "I'm okay, I can do it now, I just need to..."

The old man shot back "C'mon there! Grab that railing higher and pull yourself up!"

Rob did as he said and got a leg onto the deck. Pulling himself up and over the railing, he fell to the floor of the balcony.

"I'll be damned if ever saw such a sight. What the hell were you trying to do? Do you think you are Spider Man or something? Climbing up the building, hanging off my deck, you're some kind of crazy aren't you young man? If you were trying to rob me, I will tell you now I have a gun, not afraid to use it either," the old man said.

Rob lay silent and still, his heart beating so hard he felt it would burst if he moved another inch. "I was... trying to... get to... Ellen," he said through hard breaths.

"Ellen? You mean Sgt. Addison's girl? They live across the hall."

Rising to his knees, Rob was too relieved to be embarrassed about climbing onto the wrong patio. He relaxed just knowing that Ellen was next door.

"Thank you," he said, embracing the old man. "You saved my life, you really did. Thank you." Rob patted him, hugging him hard.

The old man patted him back. "I saved a lot of people's lives... back in the Korea. Had my own saved a few times too. Many good men died back there. Could have just as easily been me," the old man said shaking his head.

Rob smiled at him with gratitude. "I came here to see Ellen. I am terribly worried about her."

The old man slid the patio door open and walked Rob through the apartment to his front door.

"Just go to the door across the hall, Ellen lives there with her dad Sgt. Marco. He plays cards with me sometimes but lately he doesn't come over much, tell him I said hello," the old man said with a wave as he closed the door.

Rob slowly stumbled to Ellen's apartment, fingers numb, his arms shivering from the strain. Walking across the hall, he found her apartment and stood at the door in worry. "Would she be home? Was she okay?" He knocked on the door with great anticipation but there was no answer.
Chapter 15

Standing at the door, he leaned his head against the wall.

"C'mon Ellen! Open the door!"

There was no reply. He knocked harder, banging with his fist.

"Ellen! Ellen its Rob!"

Still, no reply. He sunk to the hall carpet leaning his back against the wall. "Is she here? Did she even make it home?" he wondered in intense worry. As he waited, part of him felt silly and wanted to leave, another part urged him to sit and wait. The thoughts of finding her safe, being in front of her and finally telling her out loud how he felt was burning hot inside him. As silent moments passed, Rob became more concerned.

"Ellen was really messed up last night. Her first experience drinking... and taking ecstasy too... What if she didn't make it home safe? What if something bad..."

Deciding he must see if she was okay, he tried the doorknob. It was locked. Fumbling through his wallet, he took out a credit card. Sliding it in the door jam, he fished it up into the latch. He had done this many times before to his own door after accidentally locking himself out. If this old lock was like his, he could push the card into the latch and get the door open.

With shaking fingers it was hard to do. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus. Pulling on the door, he managed to slide the card in. Pushing the card tight into the crack, he wormed it up and down, sliding it in deeper. Feeling it hit the latch; he pulled hard on the door. Pushing the card in further, he felt it split. Suddenly, the door popped open.

Walking in the silent apartment, he felt embarrassed. "God I hope her dad doesn't shoot me if he is here," he thought. "Why did Ellen not respond though? She could be hurt, or sick from the drug she took, if she even made it home." He had to find out.

Stepping into the living room, he was surprised at the meager accommodations. The coffee table was littered with dozens of beer cans and food stained paper plates. An end table beside the worn couch was covered with prescription bottles and an empty pizza box. This didn't look like Ellen's apartment, as he would have imagined it.

"Was this Ellen's apartment?" he wondered. The old man said 'The door across the hall.' The door is marked #6. This has to be her place."

Speaking loudly, he called out for her as he cautiously moved deeper inside.

"Ellen? Are you home? Ellen... It's Rob," he called out.

Quietly walking down the hall, Rob went to the first bedroom.

"Ellen?" he asked with a hushed voice. "Ellen are you here?"

With no reply, he turned the knob on the first bedroom door and looked inside. The room was littered with clothes, more beer cans, empty snack bags and food wrappers. A small bed by the window was un-made. A nightstand nearby stood covered in more pill bottles and old photos, but there was no one there.

Closing the door back, he tiptoed to the door at the end of the hall. Gently turning the knob, he opened it. He saw a big bed, and the shape of a person covered with a patchwork quilt.

"Ellen," he said softly. "Ellen, it's Rob," he repeated.

Still with no reply, he began to really worry as he nervously approached the bed. The figure was covered from head to toe, lying motionless. Carefully lifting the corner of the quilt, Rob slowly pulled back a few inches, revealing Ellen's sleeping face under her tangled hair.

A sweet sigh of relief washed over him. She was here, and she was breathing. For some reason, he dared not disturb her. Sitting on a nearby chair, he waited silently as she slept. As he sat quietly, he looked over his surroundings. A large TV hung on the wall above the dresser. Photos of Ellen and her dad hung as a collage on another wall. Small-framed photos of a woman sat on top of an antique chest of drawers.

"Ellen's mother," he thought. She never mentioned her that he was aware of. Then again, she never spoke of her life to anyone. Carl mentioned her mother had died when Ellen was a child. He thought about how his parents had also died when he was in college. He wondered how life would have been if they had been spared as he stared at the black and white photos.

Ellen's room was clean and tidy, totally unlike the rest of the apartment. Scanning the room, he noticed folded laundry stacked neatly, waiting to be put away. Suddenly, he saw her stir. Not wanting to alarm her by the unexpected site of him, he called out to her quietly.

"Ellen, hey it's me Rob."

Uncovering her head, she squinted at him.

"Who is that? Rob? What the hell..."

Ellen shot up. Rob quickly leaned towards her.

"Are you okay? What the hell is going on Ellen... you disappeared from The Pub, Jules told me about the ecstasy. I called all night, and again all morning, but you wouldn't answer your phone. I was so worried."

Her surprise turned to sullenness. Rob knew she was in pain.

"I feel so sick... Just go on Rob and lock the door back."

She slumped back into her pillow, covering her head again.

Shaking her, Rob pleaded with her. "Ellen... I have to talk to you. I mean I really need to tell you... To explain why..."

He could see she wasn't up for responding. Suddenly he felt like a fool. "Did she even want to talk to him? Maybe she really did want to be just left alone." Awkwardly, he sat beside her on the bed as she ignored him under her covers.

The awkward silence was unbearable. Rob was deflated. What could he do? As he considered leaving, he heard a sound in the living room. Bump bump bump, someone knocked at the door. Rob shot a look at Ellen. She stayed silent and still. He headed to the door just as it opened.

"Ellen!" the old man from across the hall called out.

Rob walked up to him, "Hey there, what's up?" he asked.

"I don't know, but a nurse called me just now... Says Marco wants Ellen to come to the hospital. Says for her to get there as fast as she can. She didn't sound good, sorta' desperate."

Looking at him with worry, Rob asked where he had gone.

"Which hospital?" he asked.

"The University," the old man replied.

Rob rushed into Ellen's room nearly yelling.

"Ellen! Wake up, your dad is in the hospital, a nurse has been calling you but got no answer. They called the old guy across the hall and told him to tell you to come down ASAP!"

Springing up, dressed only in panties and a T-shirt, she felt embarrassed for Rob to see her as she dashed out from under the covers. Tugging a sheet off the bed to cover herself, she scrambled to dress quickly in the bathroom.

"My dad would never call from the hospital unless it was something really bad," she said through the door. "He's not even supposed to be at the hospital, he should be in dialysis today. Something must really be wrong...."

Walking out, she sat on the bed to tie her shoes. In mid sentence, she started to cry. Rob rushed to her side. Her arms shot out around him as she sobbed.

"I will call Carl. We will get you there in just a few minutes," Rob said reassuringly as he rocked her in a warm hug.

Calling Carl while Ellen gathered her things, Rob hoped he would answer again.

"Carl, Rob here, Ellen just got a message from the hospital. Her dad wants her to come there to see him. I think something bad has happened. We need a ride right away! Can you come by and get us?"

"Oh shit! I hope he's okay," Carl replied. "I will be right over. Give me three minutes."

Ellen came into the living room in a hurry to leave. Rob could see by her tears she was distraught. Not saying a word, he walked her out to the sidewalk.

"Something bad has happened. I just know it. I should have been up this morning to help him. But I was so sick and dizzy... I feel so bad..." Ellen said as she paced in tears.

Carl's cab screeched to a halt in front and they jumped in.

"Which hospital?" Carl asked.

"UC," Rob replied.

"UC?" Ellen asked, looking scared. "He doesn't even go to UC. His doctor is at the VA hospital. Oh my God! Oh my God... something is wrong, something bad has happened I just know it."

Pulling her head into his shoulder, Rob held her tightly.

"Shhh, settle down, we're on our way, just calm down, we will be there in a few minutes," he whispered into her ear.

She leaned on him sobbing. Even with the intense stress, she felt a calming warmth surround her as she sat locked in Rob's embrace. In the midst of a pending tragedy, she felt truly comforted, like she had never felt before.
Chapter 16

Arriving at the emergency entrance, Ellen and Rob dashed out of the cab into the hospital. Ellen leaned on the front desk asking about her dad.

"He's in the ER. Just follow the yellow line and ask the ER desk there," the woman said, pointing down the hallway.

They jogged fast down the hall to the ER. The desk nurse told Ellen her dad was in bed number 259, explaining it was for family visiting only. Rob hugged Ellen as she turned to leave. Watching as she trotted down the hallway, returning to the waiting room, he nervously paced as he waited.

In the room, the sight before Ellen's eyes was terrifying. Her dad lay motionless, covered in tubes and wires. His eyes closed, his mouth open, barely breathing, he looked nearly dead. Feeling her touch his arm, he opened his eyes. Struggling to raise his hand, he motioned her to come nearer. Pushing a chair beside his bed, she sat down, running her fingers through his hair.

"Oh my god dad... What is going on? Are you okay?"

He shook his head, "Ellen, don't worry about that. Ellen, I love you so much. I have always loved you more than you could know. When your mother died I thought I would never be happy again but you... having you has made me the happiest man in the world," he said with great effort.

Ellen was worried over the strain it took for him to speak, telling him just to stay quiet and rest.

"No... Ellen, I have wanted to tell you these things. I feared I may never see you again. I am so very proud of you. You are such a smart girl, such a hard worker. I realize you take care of me well beyond your patience and tolerance. I think of you in sadness every time I wake up and look at the terrible mess I made the night before. I feel so sorry you have been stuck with me these past few years."

Tearing hard now, Ellen began to cry.

"No dad. I love you too. I know you can't do much for yourself anymore. I just want you to be comfortable and happy."

"Shh... Let me speak Ellen. I have waited way too long to tell you how much I care. Now may be my last chance..."

She paused as he continued. "I loved your mother... such an angel. She was the most wonderful person. I was so young when we met... I didn't appreciate her like I should have. I never told her how much she meant, how much I loved her," he said. Coughing, he was nearly unable to speak.

Coughing harder, he stopped speaking, breathing as deep as he could. Ellen watched quietly as his breath strained and gasped. She feared he would slip away before her eyes. She cried uncontrollably, reaching out to hold him as best she could without interfering with the wires and tubes.

"Ellen, I have a secret, something I have kept to myself for so many years," he said with intense eyes. "Something I have never spoke a word of to anyone. Now, I need you to know."

Ellen looked at him intently. He had always been so open about his past, he told her stories until late into the night about his youth, his adventures, her mother, their lives and the war. She couldn't imagine what he had to tell her.

Holding his arm, she sat silent as he spoke. "Ellen, in Vietnam, not far from Saigon. I met a girl there. Many soldiers had girls then, but this was different. I met someone so wonderful... I fell in love... I loved her just as much as... She was a beautiful woman alone in a land of terrible things. She loved me too. If not for her, I would have been a different man in those times. Savage, drunk, and probably drug addicted like my friends. I spent every moment with her I could. She gave me reason to hold on and I loved her for it."

Ellen was surprised but not shocked. Many soldiers had Vietnamese girlfriends in the war. He was young and good-looking, why should he be so different?

"Ellen, we were going to be married, I wanted her to come back with me, or even stay there with her. Vietnam is a magical, beautiful place. I could have lived there happily for a lifetime. I was so confused... and so alone."

Ellen interrupted him. "I understand dad, I'm sure many guys did the same thing back then."

"No!" he tried to shout.

Coughing from the strain, he choked as Ellen wiped his lips with a towel.

"Ellen, listen to me, I truly loved her. I was with her as often as possible for two years. We were making plans for her to come with me to the U.S. I didn't know I was being leaving until the night they announced Operation Frequent Wind. It was a citywide evac of all U.S. personnel. I will never forget that horrible night. April 27th 1975, it was raining so hard you couldn't hear the person next to you scream. I slipped away to explain my plans to return to her. I was taking a short cut through the jungle when I stepped on the mine that stole my legs from me. Lying alone, bleeding in the mud, I was sure I was going to die without even saying goodbye. Hours later I was rushed away by the medics... and lost my beautiful Mai Lee forever.

They put me in a helicopter and whisked us away just before the Viet Cong took over the city. I was torn away forever from that time and place so quickly... I never got to... I never even had a chance to see her one last time. I was a broken man in a sea of tears the night I flew away on that cold ride home, never to see her again. The last week I was there we were so happy, we were making plans for her to come to the states. I didn't know your mother then. Mai Lee and I, we wanted to get married right away, before..."

He paused, looking at Ellen with pleadingly eyes in tears.

"Before our... before our, baby was born," he whispered as tears ran down his cheeks.

Feeling a shock run through her body. Ellen looked at him with a confused scowl.

"Baby? But dad I thought... I was your only..."

"No!" he said, grabbing her arm. "Ellen you are my second child, I have another daughter, you have a sister... in Vietnam. You have a big sister Ellen. I always wanted to tell you but..."

Ellen's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and confusion. She couldn't think of anything to say, she watched silently as he spoke.

"We planned to name her Maria, after my mother. I have never even seen her... I don't know if she is even alive."

He paused, watching Ellen's face. Desperately looking for any sign of forgiveness or compassion. The shock stopped her crying but now she was tearing again.

"Ellen, your sister is Maria Mai Lee. Her mother's name is Mai Sun Lee. She lived outside Saigon, now called Ho Chi Minh. The town was so beautiful. It's called Can Tho, The Floating City. She may still be there. Her family had a large grocery store, the biggest in the city. They were well known and respected by the local..."

Stopping him, Ellen asked why. "Dad, why are you telling me this now?"

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her closer.

"I am dying Ellen. You must find her! Computers these days... people can find anyone, anywhere. Without me you will have no family... But I want you to know you have a big sister in Vietnam. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that you had a sister.... I wanted you to find her... To have family again... You two can finally be together. I love you so much Ellen... I have always hoped that someday you would find her and..." With a gasp, he trailed off as his eyes closed.

The machine squealed a high-pitched alarm. Ellen jolted with a shock. Nurses came running in. They looked at the display then pulled Ellen from her seat.

"You need to wait outside now mam', the doctor will be here in a few seconds, please just wait outside."

Ellen stood up, a terrible fear filled her as she watched her dad lying there, mouth open, eyes closed, motionless as the alarm repeated its squealing howl. Ellen stood dead still, barely breathing, hands over her mouth as she watched. Nearly pushing her, the nurse repeated more forcefully.

"You need to wait outside now... Please, just wait outside. We are doing everything we can here, he's in good hands, just take a seat in the hall."

Straining to watch from the hall as the doctor worked, Ellen tried to look into the room. The nurse noticed and promptly shut the door. Ellen had a sinking feeling this would be the last time she ever saw her dad alive again. She couldn't bear the pain. She needed him now more than ever. He had been a nightmare to deal with since his health deteriorated, but she never realized how much she needed his calming advice and wisdom in her life until now.

She could feel he was slipping away from her for good. He had always advised Ellen with compassion and wisdom. Through every day of her silent pain and heartbreak, he was always on her side, her best friend, and loyal companion. When all other men rejected her, her dad was always there, waiting at home, delighted to see her. No matter how distraught her feelings were, he was the only soul that could make her laugh and feel good about life for one more day.

Even though he couldn't even walk, he still made her feel safe. She thought about all the times she had complained about the mess he would make, the cost of the food and beer he consumed, the trouble it was to deal with his doctors, prescriptions and appointments.

Replaying their angry arguments in her mind, she held her head in her hands and cried, thinking about how easy it would have been to treat him more lovingly, to tell him how much she loved him and appreciated him, but never did. Sitting in a hard plastic chair, she cried in her arms, she had never felt more sad and alone.

After an anxious wait, the doctor came out.

"Ellen Addison?" he asked.

Through her tears she shot her eyes up.

"You're father came in suffering from complications at the dialysis office. We administered treatment and he stabilized. Around 9:05 he suffered a complete failure of his kidneys and his body went into toxic shock. We have him on an external blood filter now. He is alive, but requires a breathing tube. He won't be able to speak but I think he can hear you. We will keep him monitored closely and let you know of any change. You can go in and see him for a few minutes if you like."

Walking into the room. Ellen sobbed as she saw her father. The sight of him lying there motionless was too sad for her. His eyes closed, he looked asleep. She sat at his side and rested her head on his shoulder in silence, just as she had done hundreds of times before. The difference was, she was the one in pain all those times, and he was her comfort. Now, they were both in pain and there was no comfort. So many nights, she had come home distraught or crying over an emotional episode. His words and his kind eyes soothed her time and time again. Now, she was powerless to ease his pain.

Her growing weight over the years had caused her not just insecurity, but rejection. On more than one occasion, even ridicule. The only man in her life that really cared was Sgt. Marco Addison, her father and life long friend. Now, he was silent, helpless and likely dying. He had been so strong. He served in Vietnam for years, yet against the odds, lived to return home. He helped save many lives and made many friends in the process. She remembered a few of them from years past. They would track him down, stopping by to talk, drinking into the night. Slowly they had all died off, or just quit coming, leaving him all alone, with Ellen as his only friend.

On this tragic sunny summer day, Ellen wanted nothing more than to be home with him again. Playing one more game of cards or sitting beside him on the sofa watching just one more of the boring documentaries he was so fascinated with. In her heart, she felt it was never going to happen again. He wasn't a perfect father, but he was her father. And she loved him with all the love she possessed.

Squirming in the hard seat, she couldn't even muster a moment of clarity to process the revelation of her unknown sister. Her mind was running rampant with memories from the past, the smiles and laughs they had shared, the life they lived together. The best and the worst, it seemed to have all gone by so fast. All she could do now was just lay her head on him once more, and be still. Still and quiet, silent and hopeful, and cry.

Rob had not seen or heard from Ellen for two hours. He glanced at the clock, 11:17.

"Oh shit," he said to himself. "The kitchen has been running without me."

Wondering what was going on in The Good Ship's galley, he looked at his phone. No missed calls.

"That's odd," he thought. "Maybe they think I'm late from sleeping one off."

He knew he had to get to work quickly, but he couldn't leave Ellen now. Could he? He had made such an effort to see her and never even had the chance to tell her why. Her dad's emergency had whisked her away, never giving him a chance to explain how he felt, or why he was even there. In the midst of this trauma, he couldn't bring that up, could he?

"What should I do?" he wondered.

The Ship was still Rob's responsibility, and he needed his job. Could he explain to Ellen and go on to work? Would she understand if he left, would she even care? He became increasingly confused. Finding no solution, he checked his phone again.

"No calls or texts, from anyone," he thought.

He started to text Sandra, but stopped midway through. Deleting it, he texted Miguel instead.

"Hung up at hospital, be there at lunch service, keep the crew running."

Rob knew that would buy him some time, but how long?

While Rob was pacing the waiting room floor, Ellen was sitting in quiet tears next to Sgt. Marco. She held his hand, talking to him in a whisper. Not expecting any reply, she told him about her life long emotional struggles, her weight issues and all the pain and rejection that came with it. She told him about the few guys that she had liked in the past, and the people that made fun of her, shattering her self esteem with harsh laughing words. She whispered to him her dreams of tomorrow... and finally about Rob. She doubted he could even hear her, but she could have never told him these things in any other situation. She found some comfort in getting her secret pain out to him after all these years.

As she told him about Rob and her fears that he would never share her feelings, she noticed a tear running down Marco's cheek. Was he listening? Did he really hear her? Just then, the hand she was holding clenched her own. He reached his free hand up off the bed, motioning as if he was writing. Ellen sat up as he did it again. Quickly, she grabbed a paper and pen off a nearby table and put them in his hands. Without even looking, he scribbled a barely legible scrawl. Dropping the pen, his arms fell limp. She took the paper from his shaking hand and read it.

"You are beautiful... you will find love."

Instantly her eyes flooded. She silently cried hot tears as she read the scribbled words over and over. Ignoring the tubes and hoses, she hugged him hard. Her head on his shoulder, she saw a faint smile cross his lips as she felt him pat her on her head. Suddenly, as if he had made peace, she felt the life leave his aged and broken body. Slowly, his fingers slid lifelessly off her head as he slipped away under her clutching grasp.

The machine squealed its screaming alarm again. Ellen knew there was no turning the clock back this time. Sgt. Marco Addison had left this earth forever. Jumping off her seat as the nurses ran in, she watched in horror as they began resuscitation. The sight was more than she could bear. Running out of the room, she could hear the speakers calling the doctor.

"Code Blue Code Blue Room 259."

Running down the hall blindly, she didn't stop, nor even look back. She knew her father had passed away in her arms. He was gone forever now.

Clutching his final goodbye note, her eyes too blurry to see, Ellen ran towards the bright light of the glass emergency exit doors. Sprinting through the waiting room, Rob looked up from his phone as he saw her running out past him. With haste, he followed, calling her name.

"Ellen! Ellen! Wait!"

She heard his call but couldn't stop running. She ran past the parking area, down into the grass where she tripped on the curb and fell into the landscaping. Turning on her side, she laid there in the mulch, curling up crying, holding the note against her heart.

Dashing to her side, Rob tried to comfort her, asking her what had happened.

"Ellen, what's going on?"

Receiving no answer, he sat with her, rubbing her shoulders quietly.

"He died," was all she spoke.

Rob sat quietly as she sobbed. After a nervous minute he spoke up.

"Ellen, let's get you home. This is no place to be right now. There's a taxi out front. C'mon, let's get up and go home now."

Rising to her feet slowly, she stumbled to the cab, her head down, crying into her hands. As they drove away, Rob could only sympathize and continue holding her, rubbing her softly. The cabbie's eyes glanced back at them, and then quickly looked away. Not a word was spoken along the ride, only the hum of tires and sobs broke the uncomfortable silence.

Still holding the note in her hands, Ellen watched with blurred eyes as they passed through the streets. Cars rushing people to work honked as they wormed through the traffic. Homeless silhouettes stirred awake out of the trash from back alleys. Cracked sidewalks and broken windows passed by as she stared silently. Reading the note again, she didn't care anymore. She didn't care about love, the people, the city or even tomorrow.

She rode on, her head resting against the door glass, watching the ugly pass by, brick by brick, block by block. Never noticing before now how decrepit and dilapidated the city really was in the harsh light of day, she forgot Rob was even there. She didn't even care anymore. All was lost to her.

Sitting in silence at her side, Rob could feel her pain radiate into him. He dared not even speak. As the cab pulled up to the curb in front of her building, he turned to her, ready to offer a heart felt condolence. But Ellen simply swung the door open, shuffling off to the door. Without saying a word she walked away. He closed the car door. Turning to the cabbie, he asked him to take him to work.

"Run me over to Riverboat Way."

He would have to skip a quick shower at home. It was now almost noon, the kitchen line would be getting hit hard with the lunch rush at this very moment. There was no time to stop by the house to clean up or even change. Whatever had just transpired, The Good Ship didn't wait for anyone, the show must go on. Rob was Captain of the crew and he was needed there to steer the crew into safe waters.

Ellen's situation weighed heavily on his mind and heart, but the restaurant took precedence over all. As the yellow cab drove back across the river, Rob felt a sinking feeling that things would never be the same with Ellen again. Something had been lost, left behind back at that hospital. Something irreplaceable had been stolen, ripped away against her will in those sterile smelling hallways.
Chapter 17

Walking around to the back door of The Good Ship, Rob headed straight to the office. Changing into some left over whites, he swapped his shoes for his greasy clogs. Casually walking behind the line, Miguel could read his face with a glance. With one look, he saw Rob was in no mood to be tested, nor disappointed.

"The line ees fine amigo," Miguel said as Rob scanned the stocks. Nodding in approval, he silently took his place at the pass. Within seconds, the printer spewed out orders, Rob jumped into action. He called out the orders confidently, but his mind was far from the line today. Something somber had sunk deep into him. His thoughts kept straying back to Ellen. He knew he needed to be with her now. She was totally alone in her darkest hour.

Fighting through the distracting thoughts was difficult. Though trying his best, he just couldn't find his groove. As the crew worked around him, they all noticed. No one said a word. They simply took their tasks at hand in full focus and kept their eyes off him altogether.

In the dining room Sandra was at the hostess desk.

"Ellen should have been here by now," she said to herself. "Where the hell is she? She has never once been late in two years, let alone missed a shift." She knew she had to come up with a fast strategy that would get The Ship through the lunch rush without Ellen's valued expertise. Studying the server roster, she felt a fear. Quickly, she rearranged the floor chart in an effort to make for Ellen's unexpected absence.

"Amelia, give the whole patio to Charley. Move half of Ellen's tables to Heather's section and I will take the other half myself."

Amelia erased Ellen's name off the floor chart with her grease pen. She was inexperienced but even still, she realized something was off. Sandra never took tables of her own and Ellen had always been assigned the largest section.

Walking to the tables, Sandra rearranged the silver and linen to perfection as best she could in a hurry. Walking up to Sandra's side, Charley blurted out something about having to wait on the whole patio.

"Amelia has me on the whole damn patio and I'm not..."

Sandra cut her off, shooting back a reply without even looking at her.

"You tried to steal the whole patio just a day ago. Now you have a problem with taking it. Guess what? That's the way it is Charley. Go make sure your tables are ready. Stop complaining and don't give me any grief. Just do your job."

Charley snarled her glossy red lips as she stomped off, mumbling something Sandra didn't bother to hear.

The hungry lunch crowd quickly filled The Ship. The kitchen printer spit out long strings of orders. Rob tore off the tickets and arranged them in order.

"One burger bloody sub slaw, one cod, one chicken, one scampi, one scampi, two scampi all day."

Miguel and Micah called the orders back as the pans sizzled and the flames shot off the grill. In minutes, finished orders were passed to Rob one by one. Wiping the edge of the plates, he placed them in the window. His instincts were spot on despite his distracted mind. Matching the orders with the tickets, he called out the table numbers to the servers.

"Table 28, one cod, one burger. Table 35 one chicken, one scampi... Charley! Hurry up!"

The servers quickly lined up, stacking plates on their arms before rushing off through the swinging doors. The Good Ship was at full steam.
Chapter 18

Across the river in Newport, Ellen was deep under her covers. Nestled under her coveted antique quilt, she had cried herself to sleep. Blinds pulled shut, her room was darkened against the bright sunshine outside. She didn't toss or stir. She was dead still in a somber sleep. The Good Ship was miles away from her life now. The thought of customer requests, rushing food orders and running credit cards had been washed out of her mind altogether.

Her concerns about food service had vanished with no warning. Now, only lucid dreams filled her mind. Vivid scenes of drive-in movie memories with her dad danced across her fluttering sleeping eyelids. In brilliant technicolor, she was subconsciously re-living fond moments of a life gone by, a father lost. Hour after hour, she slept, dreaming, never awakening once.

Among the crowd on The Good Ship, a familiar face took a seat at the bar. George had returned again. Quietly sipping an expensive red wine, he chatted with Jules between her orders.

"You have a very good crowd today," he commented as she worked her orders in front of him.

Glancing around the room, she replied as she poured a draft.

"Not bad. Things have picked up here lately. Reviews of Chef Rob's food have drawn in the real foodies in this town. Not to mention the people who know little about good food but a lot about hitting the hot spots for dates and entertaining."

Sitting sat back in his leather wrapped stool, George surveyed the scene with all-seeing eyes as the lunch rush clattered around him.

Sandra was stepping and fetching to keep The Ship running smooth without Ellen's help. Heather was beginning to feel the fear as Amelia continued seating her expanded section to full capacity. She knew Charley would be no help if she got behind and Sandra was too busy with her own tables to have time to help. Heather hadn't seen Sandra wait on tables since The Ship opened. Now, between Sandra's tables and her usual manager duties she was running hot in a near frenzy.

Even with her usual three tables in the dining room, plus the additional patio tables, Charley didn't seem as hurried as the other servers, likely due to her disregard for delivering pro service. Charley was famous for showing contempt for her customers. Today was no different. She took their orders, and delivered their food at her own pace, with zero concern for timing, organization, or politeness.

Realizing quickly she would have to sink or swim all on her own, Heather was feeling the direct pressure of running her enlarged section without Ellen on board. Ellen was the only person who could take the heat of her tables and help the servers who were falling in the weeds. Heather found it mysterious Ellen was not to be found. Waiting at the bar for her drink orders, Heather asked Jules about the missing crewmember.

"So... Jules, where is Ellen? I heard she was at The Pub last night..."

Jules made drinks with both hands, dishing ice into empty glasses with one hand while pouring liquor with the other.

"She was pretty drunk that night. Maybe she is coming in late. I don't know for sure. It's been a silent topic so far. I asked Sandra about her and she just said, 'Don't worry about Ellen. Just worry about you.' She seemed kinda' pissed that I asked."

As the last cocktail was placed on her tray, Heather curiously continued.

"I wish I knew. I mean if Sandra fired Ellen that's some shit! Ellen could do her job and Sandra's put together. Have you seen Sandra struggling to handle just half of Ellen's section alone? She's stressing hard."

Jules smiled as she looked over at Sandra taking orders.

"Yeah she's working for that money today. Does her good to remember what we go through. Besides, every crewmember has been late from a rough night before. Of all people, Ellen deserves a break the most. Serves Sandra right if she really fired Ellen. "

Charley walked up to the bar. Standing beside Heather, who was turning to leave with her orders, Charley overheard the last couple of words Jules said.

"So, Ellen was fired?" Charley asked, staring, waiting for a reply.

Ignoring her, Heather took her tray, walking off silently. Jules quickly stacked three drinks on Charley's tray then disappeared to the end of the bar without saying a word. Silently spying on the scene, George turned to Charley as she passed by.

"Miss Charley, when you get a minute, I have a couple things I'd like to know your thoughts on. Come back by the bar and have a quick chat with me when you have a moment."

Charley's pouting face twisted into a sly smile as she nodded, taking her drinks to the patio.

"Who do they think they are to just ignore me... Screw those bitches," she mumbled under her breath.

She was excited George had singled her out. She knew little about him. What she did know was that he was well dressed, handsome, and rich. The fact that he wanted to talk to her alone put a spring in her usual stomping step.

Far away from the server drama, Rob was working fast and furious to keep up with the onslaught of orders. Even Miguel was showing signs of pressure as he manned the grill.

"Amigo! I only have four chicken and one rib. Why you taking that chicken for table 21? We need four chicken for 42. You're leaving me a chicken short!"

Glancing at the tickets, Rob turned back to him.

"No Miguel! Three chicken and one rib on 42, not four. Look at the tickets!"

Miguel looked again and nodded. "Sí sí, okay okay, no reason to yell amigo. We got eet covered, it's all working," he said turning back to his grill.

Rob didn't acknowledge.

"Better still, just cook what I call out and stop second guessing me," he replied with aggravation.

Rob didn't lose his temper but he was losing his patience. The kitchen crew turned with a jolt as they heard the sound of beating metal and loud slamming from the dish room.

"Son of a bitch!... This damn bastard!" They heard Armando yell.

"What the..." Rob murmured as he stopped plating, looking back into the dish room.

"Armando! What the hell is going on back there?" he called out.

Armando peered around the corner with eyes wide.

"The dishwasher, it quit. I think it's busted, stopped up or something. I dunno', it's not working man."

Looking back at his orders, Rob tore off two new tickets, as he placed several plates in the window.

"Table 42! Get it out before it dies!" he yelled out to the servers in wait.

Jogging back to the dish room, quickly checking the machine for obvious faults, Rob rubbed his head in dismay.

"You're just going to have to hand wash from here on out today. I don't have time to deal with this right now," he said to Armando.

Armando looked sad. He started to say something when Rob cut him off.

"Not now Army. Hand wash! Comprende?"

Armando hung his head as he started pulling dirty dishes from the machine to the sinks.

Dashing back to the line, Rob saw Sandra looking as if she were ready to cry. Hastily counting on her fingers, she scanned the tickets.

"Where is table? Wait a minute! This was mine but... Rob!"

Rob looked over at her through the pass window.

"What now Sandra?"

Sandra looked painfully confused.

"I should have two chickens and a fish for 49 but I only see the damn fish and I think Miguel just gave the chickens to Charley. What the Hell! Now my food is going to drag forever and my fish is dying!"

Shaking his head, Rob corrected her. "No Sandra. That fish is for 56. 49 is still working. One minute... just wait for it."

Throwing up her arms in frustration, she pushed past Heather, storming back into the dining room.

Watching Sandra storm out, Heather turned to Rob.

"What the Hell was that about?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "She's just not used to serving. She is slipping a little I guess."

Heather watched as he placed her orders in the window.

"Did Sandra really fire Ellen?" she asked.

Rob stopped working suddenly, looking up at her in anger.

"No! Now stop worrying about other people!" Just take your food and run it to your table! This high school drama is not coming into this kitchen. Keep your server gossip out in the dining room with the other babies. This is my kitchen. We work here. We don't have time for he-said she-said bull shit."

As Rob turned his back, Heather frowned with a scowl.

"Jesus, I just asked a simple question. Why does everyone freak out whenever I mention Ellen? For... give... me!" Heather shot back loudly as she stacked the plates across her arm and trotted off into the dining room.

"Chef, where ees Miss Ellen? She coming back?" Miguel couldn't help but ask.

"C'mon Miguel, not you too. I expect rumors and drama from servers, but not from my crew!" Rob replied in a near shout.

Rob went back to his tickets but couldn't help to wonder. "Where was Ellen? How was she feeling?" In the midst of the kitchen chaos, his thoughts of her were shoved deep in the back of his mind. He knew that type of distraction could be certain death in the middle of a serious slam. He tried to re-focus on his tasks but after the questions, the thoughts kept returning, tripping up his concentration. Scanning the line, seeing no orders ready to plate, he tossed his towel on a rack.

"Man the line Miguel, I have to check on something."

Walking out into alley, the breeze off the water hit him with a refreshing calm. Pulling his phone out, he dialed Ellen's number. After a few rings it went to voicemail. "Damn!" he shouted out loud. Standing against the railing he paused, closing his eyes, breathing deep, he thought about what to do.

"After this rush... As soon as I can get out of here, I am going straight over there. Just one more hour, then I can go to her place and see her... Every time I try to talk to her something crazy happens," he said to himself.

Walking back to the line, Sandra was standing with a steak entree in her hand.

"She doesn't like it," she said, sliding the plate into the window. "She says it's not medium, it's too rare."

Miguel watched as Rob took the steak. Slicing it in two, he looked up at Sandra.

"It's as medium as medium gets!" he yelled.

"Whatever," Sandra said. Just put back on, or make another. I guess make it medium-well this time. You know people don't know medium from well," she said as she walked out.

Slinging the plate into a dishpan, Rob called out to Miguel.

"One rib eye medium well, on the fly!"

Miguel called back. "Sí, sí, medium well."

Rob's patience was wearing thin. "Just one more hour," he thought as he slid plates into the pass window. In an hour or so the show would be over. He was aching to leave more than he ever remembered. His thoughts were still consumed with concern over Ellen, twisting his concentration into a maddening mess of confusion. The minutes seemed like hours as the orders continued flooding in.

The next hour pushed the crew to their collective edge of ability. Twice the kitchen printer jammed causing delays. Still unaccustomed to Ellen's absence, the hostess was seating customers in the wrong sections. Several accidently overlooked customers were growing impatient, asking to see the manager over complaints before they paid their bill, but Sandra was too busy serving tables to attend to them promptly.

Amelia attempted to ease the pain by helping to run food, but delivered the orders to the wrong tables by mistake. Re-fires had to be cooked on the fly, backing up the kitchen further. Apologies were constantly issued across the dining room. Ship-wide, things were chaotic. It seemed Ellen's absence had caused a ripple effect across the entire Ship. Everyone knew it, but no one except Rob knew why, or where she was, or exactly what had happened.

Safe behind the bar, Jules had a birds-eye view of the terrible scene unfolding. All the while George sat in front of her, sipping one glass of twenty-dollar red after another.

"Looks like things are a bit out of control," he said to her.

"Ah, that's how it goes in this business. It's nothing we can't handle," Jules replied. "One minute things are fine, the next it's all falling to pieces," she said, laughing while washing up glasses.

George raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "I keep hearing about this Ellen situation. What is that about?"

Jules looked up, shrugging her shoulders. "I really couldn't say. She's our best server but she didn't come in today. This place would be chaos like this everyday if she weren't here. All I know is that I sure hope she is coming back, she would be really hard to replace."

As Jules went back to her washing, George tipped his glass back, emptying the last few swallows of the wine. Tossing a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the bar, he asked Jules to pour him one more drink and keep the change. Smiling, she poured him another glass. Swiping up the money, she thanked him for the gracious tip. With a smile, he winked at her. Taking his glass, he headed out to the patio.

"I think I'll have a cigar with this last glass," he said as he walked away with a casual wave.

As the last few diners' left, the staff went about their end of shift duties. Rob and his crew scrubbed the kitchen in between finishing the remaining orders. Not wanting to waste a moment, he called for a cab so he could get to Ellen as fast as possible.

Finishing up, he tossed a towel into the bin and walked outside. Walking to the street, he thought about what he was going to say and what he might expect from Ellen in the midst of her sudden loss. He was lost in thought when his phone rang. Seeing the number, he realized it was Sandra.

"What's up Sandra?" he answered.

"Rob. Where are you?" she asked.

"On the sidewalk. I already clocked out. I have something I need to do," he replied.

Sandra paused, then sighed.

"Sorry soldier. Ralph just sprung a private party on us. It's a charity luncheon today from 2-4 for his wife's latest interest. You're going to have to pull a double today, just like the rest of us."

Feeling anger flood his veins, Rob yelled in anger.

"Fuck that Sandra! A mid-shift private party with no notice? A double for me and the whole crew, are you fucking kidding? I have something I have to..."

Sandra interrupted him. "Sorry Charlie. It's double or nothing. Ralph said his wife wants to show you off to a few of her friends... Better get ready to pucker up."

Rob hung up and walked back in. As much as he wanted to walk out, leaving Ralph in the lurch, he knew he needed the job. Walking into the kitchen, he wondered about Ellen again. "Why doesn't she just answer the phone!" he yelled as he slammed the kitchen door.

Ralph arrived just as the last lunch patrons were leaving. The passing diners complimented the food to him, but he never bothered to tell the kitchen.

"Thank you... I am very proud of our Good Ship. I have worked so hard to get it into shape. I am very pleased you enjoyed your food so much," he said, preferring to take the credit for himself.

Overhearing the compliments, Sandra passed on the praise to Rob and the crew. Miguel nodded in appreciation as he re-filled a stockpot. Stacking ingredients on the prep table, Rob was in no mood for compliments. He was busy prepping for the unexpected party. The first wave of the dinner rush would be filing onboard in five hours. That meant Ralph's party would keep the kitchen running full bore until closing. With barely a five-minute break in between, there was no time to talk now. They would have to cook a quick meal and eat as they worked before the party arrived.

The party was in full swing by three o'clock. No one on the line noticed the printer had quit buzzing. Sandra came back to the pass to explain a special request. Seeing no ticket for her table, Rob looked at the printer and realized it was offline. Flipping open the lid, he pulled out a long twisted tangle of paper. Booting it back to life, it began spitting out the lost orders. To the cook's dismay, a three-foot long ribbon hung out of the machine.

The seemingly cursed afternoon went on with one mishap after another. Rob could see the frustration in Sandra's face as she leaned on the pass line waiting for a long awaited order.

"You can thank Ralph for this shit," he said, handing her a steaming plate. "Shitty worn out printers, broken dishwashers, plus a fucking double for a private party with no notice, absolutely brilliant. So this is what I came all the way here from New York to do..."

Even in her frustration and anger, Sandra dared not speak a negative word to the kitchen staff. The usual boisterousness and folly had vanished from their tone. Now, they were silent and somber. Fighting off anger as one set back after another plagued the crew. To Rob, it almost seemed as if Ellen's tragic loss had extended it's dark hand over The Ship as well.

After the private party diners left, the dinner service came on fast soon after and raged on savagely until closing. It was a long hard shift as the sun slid into the river. By ten o'clock, Rob was happy to see Armando had taken the initiative to start the closing work early. As the last order of the night left the pass, Rob found the entire kitchen already cleaned and organized. All he needed to do was take the last two dirty pans to the sink. Shaking Armando by the shoulder, Rob thanked him.

"Good job amigo. Everything looks great. You can get the hell out of here now, unless, Ralph comes back with an unexpected after-dinner party that lasts until morning."

Piping up from the walk-in door, Miguel teased Armando.

"Yeah amigo, we will be here until daylight. You can sleep here on dees flour sacks, then get ready for the lunch again in the morning!"

Armando shot Rob a terrified look. "No way! I'm leaving! I will quit right now, I'm not joking."

Rob laughed. "He's just kidding. We are all leaving right now, that's a fact. You will make last call, I guarantee that."

Finally, he could go see Ellen. Waiting outside in the damp night air, Rob watched for his cab. As the crew sped off to The Pub, he waved to them as they passed by. In the dim light, surrounded by the river fog, he suddenly heard laughing faintly coming from the Ship's deck. Knowing no one was allowed on The Ship after closing, Rob crept along a side gangplank onto the loading ramp to get a look at the trespassers. Quietly, he scanned the dark deck.

Two shadowy figures were moving between the tables. Inching closer, he saw that one was Charley. He wondered what she could be doing. Peering through the fog, he watched as she took a bottle of wine and moved to a man who was leaning on the deck railing. Her arms wrapped around behind him under his suit jacket. Turning, he embraced her with a one armed hug as she titled her head against his shoulder. Though he could barely see the shadowy figure, the man looked vaguely familiar. Standing in the corner, he continued to watch them as he waited.

The couple had not noticed Rob. In the shadows, he could just make out Charley's face as she ran her hand down the man's pants. Slowly she rested at his feet on her knees. Wondering whom this mystery man was, he moved closer. Rob could just make out the man's face... He had seen him with Ralph last week... it was George.

"Holy shit! She knows damn well she isn't allowed to hang out here after closing. Let alone be drinking after hours. Sandra could fire her on the spot for a stunt like this," Rob thought.

Ducking behind a stairwell, he wondered what to do next. The Ship was closed, no one was allowed to remain on the deck after hours, let alone have any open alcohol after closing. That was a serious liquor violation. He realized if he accused her of the misdeed, he would need proof. Charley was no stranger to lying in order to get out of trouble.

Pulling out his phone, he set it to night video mode. Now he could record the secret scene as proof of Charley's indiscretions. Stepping closer to the railing, Rob stood in the dark corner of the decking where he had a good vantage point to see the two. Within seconds of pointing his phone, he watched the screen as Charley freed George's manhood. Recording, Rob held the phone still as Charley began to slowly take him into her mouth. Inch by inch, she took him deeper. Looking up at George, she licked her lips as she continued to pleasure him in the foggy night air. Rob was shocked. He knew Sandra may have let the after-hours drinking slide with a serious scolding, but sex on the deck would certainly get Charley fired and George barred.

Setting his glass down, George wrapped both hands in Charley's luxurious black hair, coaxing her momentum. Charley's head began bobbing faster. Her speed increased gradually but steadily. George leaned his head back, mouth wide open as he began to gasp. Slowing down, she took him deeper with purpose. Rubbing with one hand between his legs while using the other to stroke him in her mouth, she urged him on.

Staring at the phone in the darkness, Rob's foot dropped off the slippery step with a bump. Suddenly Charley stopped as they both turned to look Rob's way. He held dead still in the shadow.

"Did they see me?" he wondered as he stood frozen.

Standing silent, holding dead still, still recording, Rob hid in the shadow. Charley looked around and then went back to her sucking. She stared up at George as she bobbed her head. Rubbing him expertly with her hands, slowly licking and lightly sucking. Leaning, George pulled her gently up off her knees.

Wiping her lips, she whispered something into his ear that made him smile. Turning her back to him, she bent over a deck table, reaching her arms out in front of her. George moved up from behind.

Rob could see him loosen his pants. As they fell down to his knees, he pulled Charley's skirt up high over her waist, exposing her bare bottom and naked thighs to the foggy night air. Quickly, he tugged her thin panties down with one hand, inching her legs farther apart with his feet. Bent over, with her bottom arched high, she looked back, whispering something again as George poised to enter her from behind.

Rob recorded George's face clearly as he worked his way deep into her. The bottle of wine rocked on the table beside them. There was no doubt now he could get Charley fired for this brazen stunt.

Watching his phone's screen, making certain it was recording, Rob pointed it steady as George pushed into her harder, shaking the deck table with each thrust. He could almost make out something Charley was murmuring as she took every inch he had to offer. With hard bumps, George pushed in and out of her, bouncing her bottom with a steady rhythm. Her calves strained to hold her up as she gripped the table's edge.

After a mere few minutes inside of her, George suddenly stopped. Whispering to her, Charley rolled off the table to her knees in front of him. Grasping him, she pushed her head down over his manhood. Looking up into his eyes, she tugged him, pulling him into her mouth. Holding Charley's hair, George closed his eyes as he threw his head back. She never even blinked as he slowed his motions and paused. Sucking lightly, her head bobbed slower, then held dead still. George's hands were still wrapped in her hair as he released into her mouth.

Looking up, Charley smiled seductively as she licked her lips. George picked her up off her knees, setting her on the table. Running his hands over her thighs, he stared at her naked legs smiling, whispering something to her Rob could not hear. Charley reached over for George's wine, drinking it down in one swallow. Leaning forward, she kissed him. With one hand, George reached in between her legs. She parted them wider as he began to rub her womanhood. Leaning on her elbows, her head fell back as his stokes grew faster.

The recording timer clicked the seconds by as Rob held the camera still. Opening her mouth, Charley was moaning now. Bending down, George pressed his lips to hers as she started to groan out loud. Raising her hips off the table, she began grinding into his hand. Slowing his pace, George paused briefly then suddenly sped up his rhythm. Charley almost let out a scream as she finally let loose from his intense fingering. Falling back on the table, her arms fell limp, her breasts heaving heavily from her rapid breath. George pulled his pants up, buttoning them as he stared at her body. She was breathing hard with her arms still spread across the table. As he tucked his shirt back in, George stared at her body, smiling at his beautiful conquest.

Shrouded in the darkness, Rob recorded every last second. The silent fog was suddenly shattered by an alarmingly loud "honk-honk," as a cab's horn rattled the night air. Rob turned with a shock, seeing the yellow cab parked at the end of the ramp. Both George and Charley shot up, looking straight in the cab's direction. Dashing from his hiding spot, Rob scrambled down the ramp, running in a fast sprint to the waiting cab. Quickly sliding inside, he hurriedly told the cabbie to get going. "Hit the gas man! To Newport fast!"

As they sped off, Rob looked through the back window. George was hustling down the ramp, stopping under the parking lamps, he watched as the cab disappeared into the street.
Chapter 19

It was well after midnight as the cab dropped Rob at Ellen's apartment. He rang the outside buzzer and waited with no reply. Walking around to Ellen's patio, he saw no lights in her blackened windows, nor any sign of life stirring inside. Walking to the back, he noticed the old man's patio door was lit with the blue hue of a television. Tossing stones against the glass with a clank, the old man slid the door open.

"Who the hell is out there?" the old man asked, peering into the darkness.

Looking up, Rob yelled.

"It's me. Rob! I climbed your patio yesterday!"

"Oh the Spiderman," the old man replied. "What do you want this time of night? It's after midnight you know."

Rob pleaded with him. "I apologize sir. I just got off work. I really need to see Ellen but she won't answer her phone or the door. I am really worried about her. Her dad died yesterday. I want to see if she's okay."

Leaning on the deck railing, the old man looked saddened. "Sgt. Marco? He died?" the old man asked as he hung his head. "Damn shame. He was a good man. Well, go around to the door and I will buzz you in."

Rob smiled up and thanked him. Walking to the door, he waited for the buzzer then walked into the hallway. Heading up the stairs, he saw the old man peeking out his door.

"Thanks again sir," Rob said as he climbed the stairs.

The old man shot him half a smile and held out his hand to shake.

"Name's Emmet, Corporal Emmet Elam. No use in calling me Sir, I'm not a brass man, just a workingman, now retired. So... Sgt. Addison passed you say?"

Rob nodded his hand and told him that Marco had died at the hospital and since then he had not been able to contact Ellen.

"You fancy that girl don't you boy?" The old man asked, giving him a stern look.

"I do, I really do." Rob replied.

The old man waved him near, whispering in a hushed voice.

"She's a fine woman, not like the trash running around here. She's got a bit of girth to her sure, but it's what's inside a person that counts. A good woman is hard to find. You'd do well to have a girl such as her in your corner. Behind every successful man is a good woman," he said, shooting Rob a pointed finger.

The old man nodded again. With a wave he disappeared back into his apartment.

Standing in front of Ellen's door, Rob quietly knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again louder, still, no answer. Taking out his cracked credit card, he fished it into the doorjamb. Working it up and down, he freed the lock and stepped into the black apartment. Looking around in the dark, he waited for his eyes to adjust. Heading to her bedroom, he opened the door. Seeing her figure under the covers, he knelt down to her level. Whispering, not wanting to startle her, he tried to wake her.

"Ellen, Ellen, its Rob."

Shaking her slightly, she stirred, turning around to him.

"Jesus Rob! What are you doing here?"

He looked at her face in the dim light.

"I needed to see you. I have been so worried about you. Besides, I never got the chance to talk to you. I came here to explain myself, to explain what happened at The Pub and why I left you all alone..."

She interrupted him, "I guess I should just give you a key." How do you keep getting in here? You're like a cat burglar or something."

Sitting down on the bed, he rubbed her arm. "Ellen, are you okay? I realize things keep getting interrupted by strange happenstances and tragedy. I feel so bad for you about your dad. This whole day has been plagued with problems ever since... Anyway, I just have to talk to you. I want you to know... I can be the one you look to, for whatever you need... I guess what I'm trying to say is..." Not sure how to explain himself, he paused.

She stared at him with sleepy eyes.

"You're trying to say what Rob? That you want to be my... friend? That you would be my boyfriend if... if I wasn't so fat? That if I looked like Sandra or Charley you would want to have sex with me? Don't worry, I understand."

Rob scowled. "No Ellen I don't care about... I mean, I was hoping we could..."

Ellen rubbed her squinting eyes as Rob paused.

"I wanted to come see you after lunch. But Ralph sprung us with a private party and I was stuck there until we closed. I wanted to tell you that..." He stopped mid-sentence. "Never mind... I just wanted to see you. I'm so sorry for your loss. I wanted to be here with you but I couldn't."

Ellen started to speak again but Rob stopped her. Silently, wrapping his arm around her, he kissed her softly. At first, in her surprise, she held back against his kiss. Then without warning, she felt her true feelings come to bear and she kissed him back. Rising up out of her covers, she wrapped both arms around him. Kissing passionately, embracing in a longing hug, it was just what she had always dreamed of, just what she had longed for so many nights. Unexpectedly, it was here and now, this time it was real.

Gently, Rob eased her back down to the bed. As she lay in his arms, her heart beat faster, her pulse quickened as she wondered what was to come next. She felt a burning desire to go further, but was terrified to show it. She was afraid to make the next move, but all the while wishing she could as each nervous second passed by.

Brushing her hair aside, Rob studied her eyes, looking for a clue to her feelings. She felt an electric spark across her skin as he kissed her again, lighter than before, gently grazing her lips, first her neck, then her ear. Stopping, looking up at her, he whispered.

"Ellen, you feel so good... I only came here just to talk to you, but now that we are finally alone..."

Tightly, she pulled him to her. Holding him close with her lips against his ear, she whispered back.

"I have wanted to be alone with you so badly for so long... I have been so sad today, so very sad you just can't imagine."

She began to sob again. Rob rested his head against her shoulder.

"Shh... Shh..." he whispered. "It's okay Elle', it's okay. Just relax now, just relax with me."

Pulling her tight in his arms, he kissed her forehead as she sobbed into his neck.

Wrapped in the warm feeling of Rob's embrace under her coveted quilt, Ellen felt a powerful feeling she had never felt before. Her despair faded to the back of her mind. She instantly knew what she wanted, what she needed. Pulling away from Rob's arms, she rose off the bed. In the cover of the darkness, her fears of exposing herself were hidden. Rob watched in silence as she pulled the straps off her dress, letting it fall to the floor.

Slipping back under the quilt nervously, she slid next to his warm body. He watched her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I've never been with anyone. But I want... I want to feel you... If... If you want me," she said with a nervous whisper.

Rob brushed a tangle of hair from her wet cheek.

"Of course I want you Ellen. I've been trying to tell you that for two days. You've been the only thing on mind for days now. You're so different from the girls I've..."

Cutting him off, she pressed her finger against his lips.

"I want you too. But... I don't know what to do... I feel so embarrassed and..." she whispered.

Cutting her off, Rob lightly kissed her lips again.

"You don't need to be Ellen. There is no reason in the world why you should be," he whispered between quick kisses.

Ellen fought her growing fears as Rob moved over her. She let herself be guided by his touch as he positioned himself between her legs. Sliding his fingers down between her bare thighs, he felt her heat. Sliding his pants off under the covers, he wormed between Ellen's legs. She felt his manhood harden against her naked thigh. Gasping at the notion of the sudden situation, her mind was a whirlwind of emotion.

Taking her breast in his mouth, her nipple stiffened between his lips. She held her breath as his warm fingers entered her virgin womanhood. She could feel her wetness increase as Rob gently rubbed her most sensitive spot. Her whole body shivered with a light electric shock. No man had ever touched her like this before. She knew what was coming, just not how to go about it.

"I... I feel so silly that I'm so nervous. I just... I just don't know what to do..." she said as his fingers probed deeper into her.

"Just relax Ellen," Rob whispered. "I don't care what you do or don't do. I'm just so relived to here with you. Are you sure you want to... I don't want to rush you."

"I've thought about you for years," Ellen replied. "I never dreamed you would really be here in my bed... You feel so good... please don't... don't stop."

Scooting into position, he looked into her eyes as he rubbed his manhood against her wetness. Her eyes closed tight as she felt him begin to enter her. She was tingling with nervousness. After decades of longing, the man of her dreams was here in her bed, poised to take her virginity. Seeing a hot tear run down her cheek, Rob stopped his push a mere inch inside her.

"Are you okay? Ellen we really should wait if you..."

She cut him off with a hard kiss.

Whispering in his ear, she spoke words she never imagined saying out loud.

"No, don't stop, I've wanted to feel you so much, more than anything. I have been waiting all my life for someone I truly wanted. I'm just so nervous, please just go... slow."

Rob slowly eased slightly deeper into her. She gasped as she began to feel the sharp pain of her virginity straining. Barely inside her, he felt her womanhood tighten around him, squeezing his manhood unlike anything he had ever felt.

The emotional intensity of the moment, mixed with the vise-like grip of her virgin womanhood around his manhood was mesmerizing. Feeling Ellen hold her breath, he stopped his push, he worried she wasn't ready. Suddenly her opened her eyes wide, as if in panic.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he whispered.

Ellen shook her head, releasing her breath.

"No... No. I just can't believe... I..." she replied nervously.

Worried that in her emotional state, she wasn't truly ready for such an overwhelmingly emotional experience, Rob stopped his push. As he stopped, Ellen felt a hot rushing feeling of panic.

"Did I do something wrong? Is something wrong with me? Why is he stopping? Was he having second thoughts?" her mind raced with panicked thoughts. She wanted him to be her first. She had no doubt about that. But now, his sudden stop caused to her to be filled with self-doubt and sudden anxiety.

In an instant, tears flooded her eyes. Rob watched her, terribly concerned as he saw her tears. With his stare, Ellen felt a hot flash of embarrassment. Rob felt the strange vibrations radiating from her. He saw the confused panic in her eyes. Not wanting to upset her further, he pulled back out of her still virgin womanhood.

"Ellen we really shouldn't..." he said shakily.

She saw the worry in his face. Her tears came on hard as she burst out crying. Now her insecurities were too strong to fight. Her brow distorted with deep lines. As Rob slid from between her legs to her side, she panicked. Thinking her sudden bout of crying made her look foolish, her panic quickly twisted into deep familiar feelings of rejection.

"It's because I'm so fat!" her mind screamed. "He has never been with a girl as big as me, now he doesn't want me but is too kind to admit it! Oh God I could just die! And here I am, naked and crying. I'm so stupid to think..."

Springing off the bed, she dashed to the bathroom, dragging a sheet to cover herself as she ran.

Sitting up in the bed, Rob's mind swarmed with thoughts about what had just happened. "I'm so stupid!" he said to himself. "I should have never even considered doing this with her so soon! Just after her dad's death, and this is her first time... her emotions are too fragile to handle this... I should have known! Oh my God, she must think I'm such a..."

Standing up, putting his clothes back on, Rob nervously paused at the bathroom door. He was about to speak when he heard her sobbing. Standing in silence, in the dark hallway, he wondered what to do, what to say.

"Ellen," he called out to the closed door. "Ellen, are you okay? Ellen I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..."

Ellen heard his words, but they only filled her with deeper rejection.

"I'm... I'm fine Rob... I just need to be alone," she replied through deep sobs.

She knew she couldn't reply honestly. Looking in the mirror, she realized she was naked except for the sheet. Too embarrassed to face him again, she had no idea what to do next.

"Ellen? Do you want to come out and talk... or do you really just want to be alone?"

Ellen desperately wanted to explain herself. "But what will I say?" she wondered as she soaked her tears with a tissue. "He must think I'm the weirdest girl he has ever met. I'm a fat crying mess."

Worried at her lack of response, he paced the hall nervously. Fearing he would only make things worse by pressuring her to talk about it, he decided perhaps he should leave, give her time to process her complicated feelings. He felt terribly ashamed of himself. He had acted on his own desires in her moment of tragedy without considering her fragile condition.

"Oh my God, what have I done? I feel like I just took advantage of such a sweet girl, in obvious pain over the loss of her dad. I'm such an idiot!" he thought.

Too embarrassed to face her now, he felt he should leave, come back in the morning, take her to breakfast and explain himself properly.

"Ellen, I guess maybe I should just go. I didn't even intend to have... I only came over to tell you I..."

He listened to his own confusing words as he spoke. "I can't even say anything right! What the hell is wrong with me?" he wondered.

Ellen remained silent. After Rob stopped talking, she wiped her eyes and tried to speak without giving away the feelings she was shaking with inside.

"It's okay Rob, I understand. It's okay. I just want to be alone now."

Not knowing what to say next, Rob stood silent. He felt his very presence was too much for her to even bear.

"I'm so sorry Ellen, I guess I should just... I guess I will go and leave you alone, so you can relax... Maybe can..."

He stopped in mid-sentence as he heard her crying again. Her sobs were beginning to make his eyes well with tears.

The emotional tension in the hall was unbearable. Waiting in silence, he grew nervous, then quietly left out her door, locking the knob as he pulled it shut.

"Good God! I only wanted to tell her how much I have been thinking of her! How much I want to get to know her. And what did I do... I rush straight into sex like she's a drunk bar girl. She's a virgin for Christ's sake. And after the most important person in her whole life just died. I'm such an idiot," he thought to himself as walked along the foggy sidewalk. "Fucking idiot!" he cried out loud with clenched fists. "God I hope she will forgive me."
Chapter 20

Early in the morning, Rob awoke to sound of knocking at his door. Excited that it may be Ellen, he ran to open it. Swinging the door open, he was surprised to see Charley standing in the hall.

"Hey Rob!" she said as she bounced in enthusiastically.

"What are you doing here Charley?" Rob asked, puzzled.

"I thought I would swing by and see what you were up to. We missed you at The Pub last night. I was just wondering if there was something wrong."

Rob knew better. Charley didn't give a damn about anyone other than herself. He had got to know her over the past two years. He knew full well she had a trick up her sleeve and couldn't take anything she said as truth. Nonetheless, he wanted to see what her game was about.

Charley made her way to the living room. Casually, she tossed her purse on the sofa. He watched her curiously. Did she recognize him from last night? Was she aware it was he who had witnessed her sexual episode on The Ship? He wondered as she took a seat.

"Last night was a chapter from hell huh?" Charley asked as she sprawled across his sofa, kicking off her shoes, propping her pedicured feet on the coffee table.

"Yeah, I heard you guys were hit pretty hard towards the end there," Rob replied from the kitchen.

Charley laughed. "I was fine, but Sandra and Heather were pretty much in the weeds all night," she said arrogantly as she lay back, swinging her legs over the arm of the sofa.

Returning to the living room, sitting in a facing chair, Rob opened a cold beer, offering Charley one as well.

"Beer for breakfast?" she asked, sitting up.

"Old habits die hard I guess," Rob replied. "So... What's up?" he asked, staring into her deceptive dark eyes.

"Nothing really, you know, just bored," she replied, taking the beer. "I was thinking, since it's our day off and all maybe we could..."

Listening curiously, Rob took a big swig off his bottle as she replied.

"Maybe we could hang out, just kill a day for the fun of it. You and I have never really got to hang out before," she said.

Staring at him with a smile, Charley took a quick drink off her beer. Rob tried to blow her off.

"Umm, I have a lot going on today. You know, so much to catch up on and only one day off to do it in," he replied.

Charley looked unhappy with his response, ignoring his reply.

"Hey Rob.... I have an idea. Why don't we smoke this awesome weed I just got, get a good morning buzz going. Then we can talk about what to do with this sunny day."

Before Rob could answer, Charley pulled a thick joint out of her Louis Vuitton Purse. Licking it slowly, she seductively stared dead into Rob's eyes as she tongued the wrapper. Holding it to her lips. Still staring into his eyes, she sparked the lighter to life.

Across the river, Ellen awoke from a sleepless night of tossing and turning. She re-played the terrible scene from the night before in her mind. "He must think I'm a big idiot! That would be normal to think that no doubt," she said to herself as she dressed.

As it was Sunday, The Ship was closed and Rob may be home. After an hour of indecision, she decided the best thing to do was to go to him. She needed to make him understand that of all the people in the world, Rob was the only one she truly wanted. But when faced with exposing herself, her body, and her emotions, she broke down. She felt she had to face her fears and explain how her years of rejection and self-loathing caused her to panic. She was excited at the prospect of seeing him and explaining her rejection based issues.

Watching Charley as she sat on his couch lighting the joint, Rob noticed her perfect manicured nails. Puffing the thick joint, she pulled it from her glossy red lips. Holding her breath, she held it out to him.

"Nah, I have too much to do today to be going around all high. Plus, I can tell by the smell, that high-powered weed will put me right back in the bed," he said, waving her off.

"What's wrong with that?" Charley asked, laughing slyly as she exhaled.

Watching from his chair, Rob caught a flash of her thin panties as she slowly crossed her legs from side to side. She was a righteous bitch to be certain, but she had a fabulous form. Her toned thighs were flawless. Her skirt rode up to her waist as she scooted forward on the couch. She uncrossed her legs again, slower this time. With intention, she made certain he got another glimpse of her lacy panties peeking at him from between her thighs. Seeing his eyes catch the glimpse, she got up. Walking over to Rob, deeply sucking on the joint, she offered it to him again.

"C'mon Rob, lighten up! You don't have to get stoned. Just take a hit, take your mind off of all the bull shit for a moment."

As she stood above him, holding out the smoking joint, he felt compelled to take it.

"There you go. A little weed never hurt anyone," she said as she sat back down on the sofa.

"I guess I could use some soothing. It's been a crazy 24 hours," Rob replied casually.

Lying back on the couch, her head on the armrest, Charley stretched her tanned legs out across the cushions. Tipping back her beer, she turned on her side.

"I have always wondered why you don't have a girlfriend Rob. The servers have always talked about you, who you went out with and who wanted to go out with you. But no one seems to have made any progress finding out exactly what was going on with your private life."

Leaning forward to set the bottle on the coffee table, her loose blouse fell to the side exposing most of one of her bare breasts. Rob shuffled in his seat.

"I don't usually talk about my private life at work. I know everyone loves to, but I keep work and home separate," he replied as he reached over, handing her the joint back.

Pursing her painted lips, Charley inhaled the smoke deeply.

"Well, you know you're a hot topic," she said as she blew smoke across the room. "Even some of the customers have talked about asking you out, and if you had a girl or whatever."

Rob didn't reply as he listened to her continue.

"I heard you and Sandra were kind of a thing lately... But I knew she wasn't the girl for you. She's too old and too beat down for a hot guy like you. You're the hottest chef in the city. You have so many better options than Sandra. She looks old and tired, you know? Kinda' like she has been around the block a few too many times..."

Rob interrupted. "There is nothing between Sandra and I. I've never really talked about it with her, but I need to."

Charley brightened up. Sitting upright, swinging her legs over the couch, she intentionally flashed her panties again.

"I didn't believe you two were together," she snickered, offering Rob the joint again.

Rob shot a quick reply to catch her off guard.

"So who is the lucky guy you are dating these days?"

Charley shrugged as she sat back on the couch, crossing her legs, kicking one bare foot.

"No one really. I don't find much to be attracted to at The Ship. I want a real man. You know, a guy who could sweep me off me feet, whisk me in his arms and take what he wants, and give me what I want too. Those guys on The Ship are just little boys. Most of the customers who hit on me just want a free flirt. I will know what I want when I see it."

Without a comment, he passed the weed back. As she kicked her legs, he couldn't help but notice that even her feet were attractive. Just as her fingers, her toes were adorned with glittering rings. Her smooth calves were shapely and taunt. Her skirt was riding up to her waistline now. Her entire leg was on display. He could see all the way up to her firm bottom. No tan lines, not even a hint of cellulite, just inch after inch of perfect tanned skin along her muscled legs. Her dark hair dangled over the armrest in long luxurious black locks. He fought himself thinking about her body. She was a cruel bitch, but a stunning beauty nonetheless.

Turning to face him, she looked him straight in the eyes.

"I know I'm not the easiest person to get to know. I have my issues. I'm well aware people don't like me, especially the other servers. They are just jealous of me I think. I work harder on my body than they do. I take more pride in my appearance. I make more of an effort to look good, you know? Do you think I look good Rob?" Charley asked, sneering at him with a coy smile.

Rob shuffled in his seat.

"Sure Charley. You have the looks any girl would want to be born with."

She laughed as she made a scowl. "Born with? I wish I were born looking like this! I work out five days a week. I run, swim and train more hours than those bitches work in a week. I spend more of my hard earned pay in the salon on waxing, nails and tanning than they spend on their rent. You're only young once; you might as well make the best of it right? I want to look good. So? You think I look good Rob?"

Rob looked at her from head to toe.

"Yeah Charley, you look great. Maybe you should be a model instead of a server."

Charley seemed pleased with his answer as she looked up at the ceiling, puffing her pot.

Nervousness flowed through him as Charley gave him a sly smiling stare as she got up and walked to the kitchen to get another beer. Rob followed behind her.

"I'm hungry. You want some breakfast?" he asked.

Charley leaned on the counter of the small kitchen, affording Rob a view of her bare pert breasts. She noticed him look at her sagging shirt as she replied.

"Nope. I never eat breakfast. I eat mostly veggies and brown rice. Once in a while if I go out I will eat fish or chicken, but only boiled or baked. Nothing fried ever touches my lips, no sugar, no processed food and nothing more than 800 calories in one meal."

Stepping closer, she stood dead in front of Rob.

"Do you think it's paying off?"

She stood inches from him now, standing up on her toes. Flexing her calves, she ran her hands from her thighs, to her hips, slowly dragging her skirt up to her rippled belly as she posed. Rob glanced at her as he turned to the fridge door.

"I have to say Charley, you look amazing."

With a satisfied shrug she slung her hair across her shoulders. Smiling, she put a single finger between her lips, biting her long nail she laughed.

"Thanks, Rob! I never thought you even noticed."

Rob leaned into the fridge, fumbling among the shelves he came out holding eggs, Canadian bacon and another beer for Charley.

Handing her the bottle, he shrugged. "Honestly Charley I really never did notice. You know your server uniforms are so drab and baggy.

With that Charley jumped atop the counter, seating herself on the edge. Swinging her legs back and forth, she watched as Rob began cooking.

"You know, I think watching a man cooking is super sexy," she said as Rob cracked eggs into the pan. "There is something about a chef that just gets me weak in the knees. You might say.... it makes me wet."

Adding a dab of butter to the eggs, Rob said nothing in reply.

"I bet you could make any girl wet if you tried Rob. I bet lots of girls would love to watch you cook up close and personal, it's sexy as hell. I know I'm no exception."

Rob pushed his bread into the toaster. Turning to Charley he looked dead at her.

"I'm not sure how eggs and toast are sexy, but if you say so." He turned back to the stove, trying to ignore her advances, still waiting for her to get to her point.

Far from Rob's kitchen, dressing in her most feminine clothes, Ellen tried every method she knew to look her best. She made up her mind to see Rob today, and this time, if he made an advance, she was going to go for it. The thrill of romance and possibly her first sex filled her mind as she brushed her hair. Sex wasn't her focus. It was sex with Rob. The possibility of a real relationship had her giddy with excitement.

Standing in the mirror, she wasn't happy with her image. Nonetheless, it was the best she could muster. Grabbing her keys and phone, she started to dial his number. Pausing her fingers on the keys, she decided a surprise visit would be more exciting. But where did Rob live? Ellen remembered Carl had brought Rob to her home.

"He will know where Rob lives!" she realized.

Calling Carl, she waited outside for him take to her to Rob. The entire ride over she replayed what she would say. How she could explain and make him understand her fears. Stopping at an apartment building across from the Second St Pub, Carl told her he had picked Rob up here, but had no idea which unit was his. She thanked him as she waved goodbye.

Walking up into the entrance, she studied the mailboxes. Out of the ten units, only three were marked, none with Rob's name. She thought to call him, but her nervousness was running too high for a phone call, she needed to see him, see his reaction to her surprise visit. If he were happy to see her, it would instantly calm her fears and help her feel confidant enough to explain her unusual actions and frantic emotions from the night before.

"Maybe I can see in the windows," she thought.

Moving around the outside of the building, she cautiously peered into the windows. Passing the first, she saw toys and kids clothes. Stepping to the next, she saw an old woman watching television.

"This isn't going to work, I'm going to have to call," she thought as she walked to next apartment.

Stopping by the window, it was closed tight with blinds. Moving on, Ellen felt like a stalker as she peered into the next window. Looking in from a few feet away, she saw a pair of Chef's whites strung over a bedroom dresser.

Elated, she smiled, quickly stepping closer. Peering in with eyes wide, she felt giddy excitement. "This is it! This has to be it," she thought to herself.

Sliding over to the kitchen window, Ellen saw Rob at the stove cooking. Her heart raced, her feelings soared as she saw him. Coming closer, she was about to knock and call out his name. Then, her heart dropped. There, sitting on Rob's kitchen counter, was Charley. She froze at the sight before her eyes.

"Rob," Charley whispered.

Without turning he replied, "Yeah Charley."

But she stayed silent.

Again she repeated, "Rob."

Again without turning he repeated, "Yes Charley."

Pushing his pan off the burner, he turned around to face her. She was perched on the counter top, her knees to her chin, her bare feet resting on the counter's edge. As he looked at her, she slowly moved her knees apart, giving him a clear view between her legs. Charley smiled coyly as she stared dead at him. Rob didn't know what to think. Ellen was horrified.

Standing still, he wondered what her motives were. Running her fingers down to her panties with a painted nail, she pulled them aside, exposing her hairless womanhood. Never taking her eyes off his, she slowly rubbed herself, pressing the finger into her pink.

"Are you ready for a real breakfast?" she asked in a whisper as she held the glistening fingertip out to him.

Shocking feelings of sadness and humiliation filled Ellen's entire being. She stood dead still, not knowing what to think, or say, or do. She watched as Charley hopped off the counter, moving closer, staring at Rob with a sly smile as she inched her skirt and panties to the floor. Pulling her blouse up over her head, she stood nude and proud before him. Rob didn't flinch as she stood in silence, allowing him to take the sight of her in.

Ellen's eyes instantly began to tear. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she dashed away before she was seen. Silent tears blurred her vision as she ran down the sidewalk.

Stepping to Rob slowly, Charley bit her lip as she reached out for Rob's belt. With a thrust, he pushed her away against the counter.

"You stupid bitch! Do you really think your stripper moves are going to make me have sex with you? What do you want with me anyway? You turn down guys that look better than me everyday, guys that make more money than me and can give you more than I ever could on a daily basis. What's your real game you seductive little whore?"

Pushing him back, Charley slapped him hard in the face.

"Fuck you! You stupid cook! You dare to shove me away like that! I am willing to offer you better sex than you have ever had in your life, or ever will!"

Still nude, she stood staring at him, shaking in anger.

"Fact is, you have something I want. Something I want to leave here with," she said with furious eyes.

"Yeah? What's that?" Rob asked, laughing.

"The fucking video you dick. I know you probably recorded George and I last night. He is super pissed and he wants the video deleted. I wanted to do it for him without anyone getting hurt over it. You give me the phone and I will give you sex like you've only dreamed of. No one will ever need to know. You can do anything you want to me, right here and now. I'm yours for the day, anything you want Rob. Think about that."

Leaning on the fridge, she put her hands on her hips, turning her back to him as she proudly pushed out her bottom.

"Here I am Rob. Take a good look. You can have me anyway you want, as long as you want. It's your once in a lifetime chance to enjoy a body like mine."

Staring at him with eyebrows raised, Charley smirked as if she was certain he would reconsider. Rob laughed again as he picked up her clothes off the floor, tossing them in her face.

"To hell with you Charley. And that goes for George too. If you want to whore yourself out for his benefit, go walk the streets. I'm sure more than a few suckers will take you up on your amazing once in a lifetime offer... But it won't be me little lady. I don't give a damn how hot you look. You're still just a snotty bitch to me."

Charley mumbled with a scowl as she stomped into the living room. Tugging up her skirt, she pulled her shirt over her shoulders. Without a word she grabbed up her purse, tucking her panties inside. Stopping at the door, she turned back to him. Throwing up a middle finger, she walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Falling back on the chair, Rob was too stressed to eat now. As she stormed past his window, he heard her shout.

"You should have just fucked me Rob! Now you'll be sorry."

Rob thought about the "You'll be sorry" part as he glanced out the window. Watching her stomp away into the street, he wondered, "How far would George go to get the video?"

Smelling his food burning, he rushed back to the stove. It was ruined. He threw the pan into the sink and sat down, sagging into the chair with a heavy sigh.

Ellen never saw the events that took place after she ran away. In her mind, Rob was having hot sex with Charley at that very moment.

"Charley! Of all people! Oh my God, of all people... I hate her, I hate her so much," Ellen yelled out as she stormed down the sidewalk. Stopping at a bus stop, she collapsed on a bench.

"I'm sure she doesn't suffer from the insecurities like I do... I'm sure Rob will have a great time having sex with her... Any man would want to have her, even if just for sex. I can't believe it... My whole life sucks so bad. I'm the most stupid person in the world for thinking anyone would choose me over a pretty girl like her. I can never go back to The Ship now. I can never face him again... Or that bitch Charley. If she was here right now I would kill her!"

Wiping her tears as they continued to fall, she felt all was lost.

"I have nothing now, my dad is gone, my job and now Rob... Oh God, Rob! Why would you do this to me?" she screamed into her hands.

The big bus hissed to a stop at the bench, but Ellen didn't move to get on. She simply sat crying, her head in her hands. Everything was lost to her now, everything she ever loved and ever wanted to love. Sitting on the bus bench, she was a broken soul... all alone on a broken sidewalk.
Chapter 21

Walking into her apartment, Ellen sobbed uncontrollably, collapsing on her bed. She had come so close to her dreams only to see it all crash before her eyes.

"If only I was pretty like Charley... If only I wasn't so fat Rob would be attracted me like her. I feel like my life is cursed."

Wrapped in her quilt, she felt she would sell her very soul to be pretty and fit.

"If only the devil would appear and offer me a new body...a new life... I would sell my soul to be pretty and to be loved," she whimpered through her tears.

Her night alone with Rob started off so wonderful, only to be ruined by her insecurities. As much as she hoped one would come to grant her wish, no devil appeared.

Desperate to reconcile her feelings, Ellen replayed the events in her mind. She was sure, on some level Rob wanted to have a relationship of some sort. After all, he did try to have sex with her, and that made her feel like a new woman. But deep in the dark night, he couldn't have seen the flesh she possessed under her covers. It would only be a matter of time before he saw her for what she really was. Then he would want nothing to do with her physically. Her dad always told her she was beautiful, but that was her dad.

Rob was her dream romance, a good man, a handsome, talented, capable man. He was kind and special and he was the only one she wanted. Now, she blamed herself. Due to her emotional wreckage, he was gone.

"If he fell for Charley, someday he would cheat on me with another pretty girl, there is no use fooling myself. How could he ever share the feelings for me that I have for him?"

Imagining a shattered heart-broken relationship, she felt it would be harder to bear than rejection.

"Maybe I'm better off without him than being hurt. Maybe this is all for a reason, maybe, this is just my fate."

She felt he would never end up feeling same the lust and fire for her that he would have for a pretty girl like Charley. She knew she could never compete against girls who looked like that. Ellen felt hopeless as she pondered Rob's possibilities. She wondered how the morning would have went if she had shown him her desire the night before. She felt she had blown her one and only chance.

"If I wasn't so... if I had seized my chance... if only I had just acted different... He would still be here, eating breakfast with me instead of having sex with her right now. My life has such bad luck."

Shuffling into the kitchen to get her usual morning breakfast ready, Ellen laid out the ingredients. In that moment, she realized her downfall. Hash browns smothered in cheese, two eggs, five strips of bacon, two pieces of toast, each with a thick smear of jelly. She knew she would likely have a bowl of ice cream after as well. It had all seemed so normal before last night. Standing there looking at the food, she couldn't stand the sight of it. She couldn't stand the sight of herself either.

Turning away from the kitchen, she ran to the couch sobbing. Silently crying, she looked at the coffee table. Her dad's glasses were where he had left them, along his cigarettes and a movie on the Vietnam War. Staring around the room, she was faced with countless memories of his life. His military coat on the chair back, his hat on the closet door handle, the photos of him with his friends from Vietnam on the shelf.

Suddenly a whirlwind of sadness smacked her hard. In just one day she had lost her father and her dream man. Coupled with the fact that she didn't show up for work for the first time in her life, she felt hopelessly lost. Her feelings were so painful she felt she could never walk back into The Ship now. Working alongside Rob and Charley would be impossible. Her job was over, even if Sandra didn't fire for not showing up. She had nothing left but the memories surrounding her

Racked in sadness, Ellen slept the entire next day and night. Rob tried to call all through the hours, yet her dead battery left Ellen unaware. Waking for the small funeral ceremony, Ellen dressed in sad silence. The sudden loss gave her no time to think about arrangements, nor the funds to pay for them.

Unexpectedly, Marco's Masonic Lodge brothers came and took care of every detail, including all the cost. After the brief ceremony, Ellen smiled through tears as they offered her kind words, but her sadness could not be soothed. As she walked out of the crematory, she noticed the Masons return to reassemble around Marco's casket. It gave her a warming feeling that her father was so valued by people she had never met. She felt he would appreciate their final goodbye.

The ride home was wet with hard summer rain. Dripping, Ellen stepped back inside her apartment door. The room was dark, damp and depressing. Dropping her jacket on a chair, she slumped to the sofa. Shaking nerves and saddening vibrations distracted her thoughts entirely.

Looking at the coffee table, she noticed her dad's prescriptions. "Oxycontin" the label read. The orange bottle was still mostly full. Ellen knew these were dangerous pills. Her father's doctor had warned her about allowing Marco to take too many at a time, or taking any at all with alcohol. She remembered his warning words...

"He could easily slip into a deep sleep and never wake up. I see it all the time."

That's what he had warned her about. That warning often worried her when he was drunk while she was at work. She often feared he would accidently overdose on the toxic painkillers.

Feeling no hope, no future, only loss and self-loathing, she picked up the bottle off the tray. Opening the lid, she looked inside at the little pills. It was hard to believe something so tiny could be so powerful. Dumping the contents into her palm, she stared at the pills.

"I could just go to sleep and never awake. Maybe I would see my mom and dad again. Maybe I am better off leaving in this painful world. No one wants a fat, crying, sad girlfriend. The only man I want will only leave me when he sees what I really look like under these clothes... I've lost all I've ever loved. I'll probably always be alone, maybe I am better off moving on to the other side where I have family."

Staring at the pills, she knew there were more than enough left to put her to sleep forever. She wondered if anyone would care. Closing her hand around them tightly, she shut her eyes as she began to cry hard again.

"I miss you dad," she whispered. "I miss you so much... I would be better off coming to wherever you are. Life for me will be nothing but loneliness, pain and sadness. Oh how much I wish you were still here..."

The image of Charley in the nude flashed in her mind. It made her certain Rob would cast her off eventually. She couldn't face that pain, not from him.

"Should I take these pills?" she wondered. "Drift to sleep and see my dad again?"

Her father's quiet funeral was so saddening to her soul, she longed for relief. Staring at the pills in her hand, her thoughts were focused on the peace they could give her.

"Dad... I want to see you again. I want feel your love surround me again... I want to see my mother, I never even knew her," she thought as she considered taking the pills.

Sobbing, she prayed. Not to a god, but to her father, the only guiding light she had ever known to be real.

"Please, please dad... If you can hear me, show me what to do. I want to come to you, but... if you can hear me. Please show me what to do next."

Gripping the pills tightly, Ellen rested her head against her clenched fists. Sitting with her head in her hands, in front of his photo, her mind strained for relief. Sitting in silence, her body shook with a jolt as a loud knock rattled the door, startling her.

"Bump bump bump.... Knock knock knock..."

Unsure if the sound was real, Ellen sat staring with wide eyes. The knock came again. A voice spoke loudly.

"FedEx. Is anyone home? I have a certified letter for Ellen Addison."

Ellen couldn't believe her ears. At first she held dead still. The knock came again.

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

Ellen dashed to the door. Her fingers shaking, she turned the knob as she peered through the peephole. A uniformed man stood at the door.

"Ellen Addison? Is anyone home?" The voice behind the door spoke once more.

With a quick pull of the latch, she opened the old oak door.

"FedEx mam... Are you Ellen Addison?

She nodded as he handed her an envelope.

"Just sign here if you would please."

Signing the electronic machine, she took the cardboard envelope. Thanking him quickly, she closed the door. Standing in wonder, she felt a twinge of supernatural excitement rush through her veins. Tearing open the envelope, she looked at the letter inside.

"To Ellen Addison, daughter of Marco Addison. It is our duty to inform you that you are the sole heir entitled to the benefits and estate of the deceased, Sgt. Marco Clayton Addison..."

Sitting down as her shaking hands held the letter, she continued to read on.

"To inherit the insurance benefits assigned to you in the amount of $100,000. All assets, real and transferrable are property of the sole heir named herein to Ellen Margery Addison... Payable on demand on this 27th day of May in the year of our Lord... To claim the benefits named please produce this letter in person with two forms of proper identification at our offices...."

Ellen's shaking hands dropped the legal notice to the floor.
Chapter 22

Across town, frustrated with Ellen's refusal to answer her phone, deep in thought, Rob left to get a decent meal. Stepping into the Anchor Grill, his mind was twisting around the notion that he may have accidentally made a formidable enemy. George was slick and suave sure, but he was also mysterious and therefore, a true wild card. Sitting in the old wooden booth at the worn 24-hour eatery, Rob could see the short order cooks work as they fed last night's drunken servers and bartenders a much-needed meal. Watching them work on the blackened flat-top, he wondered...

"Would George be capable of issuing some sort of savage beating? Or even worse, hire some maniac to strike him down with a stabbing or a gun shot?"

As the server delivered his goetta and eggs, terrible scenes of blood and mayhem kept flashing through Rob's mind.

At that exact same moment, Ellen was re-reading her letter in a mild shock. Reading it again with shaking fingers, she realized it was the answer to her prayer. Her father had made her the sole heir to a one hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy Ellen never knew existed. It was as if he was answering her prayer from beyond in her darkest moment of weakness. She smiled with watering eyes, she felt certain he was still watching over her.

With great haste and lightning speed, Ellen showered and dressed. Haphazardly throwing on clothes, turning over churned drawers looking for her birth certificate and the passport her dad insisted she get years ago but never used. This would suffice as the identification she needed. In her blind haste, clothes and papers were strewn about the apartment as if midnight burglars had ransacked it looking for some valuable hidden gem.

With her identifications in hand, Ellen thought about her father's last wish... That she find her unknown sister in Vietnam. Her mind swarmed with the possibility. With her inheritance, she could certainly afford the trip.

"I have enough money now to actually go find her... There is nothing here for me anymore... If Rob really feels for me as I do for him, will he understand if I leave? When I come home, if he still wants to pursue a relationship, could I? Should I overlook the Charley incident? Was it just a weakness for sex?"

There were too many questions and no answers to be found. The only thing she knew for certain was that she was determined to honor Marco's dying wish and find Maria Lee.

Gathering only necessary items, she quickly packed them into her dad's old army duffle. Stuffing them into the bag, she looked around the apartment. Her entire being was charged with energy. She was going to find her sister Maria, no matter how far or hard the journey would be. Her father's dying wish would come true. She was bound and determined to make certain of that.

Checking her bills, she realized nothing would be due for over three weeks. The rent had just been paid. The utilities were paid in full as well.

"I have three weeks. That should be plenty of time to find Maria and hopefully return home with her."

Tossing the food that could spoil into a trash bag, Ellen looked around the apartment again. Her father's belongings that had filled her with feelings of sadness suddenly fueled her fire. Just as she was ready to leave, she thought about Rob.

"I want to call him... Talk to him before I go. But if I do, he may try to talk me out of leaving alone. I can't handle dealing with any delays right now. I will simply have to put off my feelings for him until I get back. I can't face any distractions now. Who am I kidding? He probably has Charley in his bed at this moment. But what if he calls? Should I even answer?"

Her thoughts convinced her not to call him, or answer his calls for now.

"I feel so bad... If he calls and gets no answer he may come here. Even with the Charley situation, I feel terrible about leaving without speaking to him again..."

Despite the hurtful scene at his apartment, Ellen decided to leave a note.

Sitting at the table, she took a pen, writing quickly on the back of the FedEx envelope. Satisfied with her note, she placed it on the counter closest to the door.

"He always seems to get in here anyway. If he comes back, he will find it."

Locking the door, she jogged to the bus stop. Waiting there for several minutes impatiently, she spied a cab across the busy street pulling away from a fare.

"Taxi! Taxi!" she cried out, running in front of passing traffic.

Tires screeched and horns blared as drivers slammed on their brakes in a desperate effort to keep from running her over. The cab driver stopped, watching with eyes wide as Ellen darted straight towards him, disregarding the curses spewed from the angry drivers.

"You in hurry or what lady?" the driver asked as Ellen jumped into the back seat and slammed the door.

"I didn't want to wait for the bus. You were leaving and I had to catch you. I have to get downtown quickly. Western Southern Life building," she said.

"Sure thing," the driver replied.

It began to rain again as they drove through the city streets. Stopping at a long light, she stared out the window, lost in thought as the wipers swiped out a rhythm. Casually scanning the scene around her, she saw a dirty man wearing a Marine jacket in a wheel chair. Sitting under an overpass, he held a sign on his knees that read, "Homeless Vet, Help if you can."

Looking at his face through the wet glass, she could see he was a vacant shell of a human. His hollow eyes, sunk deep from pain and misery, were devoid of any sign of hope. His unshaven face hung on his skull with a droop from years of sadness. She began to tear. The pain of losing her father rushed back in waves of remorse.

The cab sped off across the river as the light changed. Ellen felt her nerves switch from frenzied to a strange still calm. As the car's tires hummed across the Roebling Bridge, Ellen thought about her father's secret revelation. She felt a peace in fulfilling his last wish. She was determined to find her sister and return home with the family she never knew she had, the only family she had left.

Her pulse raced as she pictured the joyous reunion. Excitement filled her as she imagined starting a new life with Maria. A life better than either would have imagined possible. A bright beautiful future they could share together as family.

"Family..." She smiled as the thought hit her hard.

"I will have family in my life again!" The idea of it all thrilled her to her very soul.

As the cab stopped in front of the Western Southern Life building, Ellen tossed the cabbie cash and sprinted off to the big glass lobby doors.

A half-hour later, she emerged through the doors with a check tucked safely in her pocket. The stodgy man that had just issued it assured her she could deposit it with no problem. But Ellen had no patience for banking policies, or delays. She had insisted it be made payable as a cashiers check so she could cash it immediately. She had no time for deposits and withdrawals. Ellen needed a stack of fresh, sweet smelling crisp hundred dollar bills to fund her mission.

It took several minutes of demanding and insistence as she explained she would not accept any other form of payment, as her plans must be carried out today, without delay or hesitation. After the frustrated insurance man returned with his manager, Ellen turned her unstoppable will on him as well. They could both see plainly, the red faced woman in front of them was not taking no for an answer.

A cashier's check was printed promptly, if for no other reason but simply to get her out of the office before her ever increasingly frantic vibes infected the unsuspecting waiting clients in the office. Bad nervousness is never good for the insurance business. This was Ellen's advantage.

Stepping onto the wet Cincinnati sidewalk, Ellen was elated. Check in hand, she didn't even bother waiting for a cab. She jogged five blocks in the rain to the Fifth Third bank. The insurance man had assured her she could cash the check there. Ellen couldn't bear the wait in line. Rocking in place, she peered over the shoulders in line towards the teller. Impatient thoughts consumed her as she waited for the other customers to cash checks, make deposits and otherwise hold up her mission.

At long last, after much frustration, she presented the teller with her check. The girl behind the desk began to process the transaction. Typing in the amount, she paused; looking up at Ellen with eyebrows raised high.

"You want to cash this? As in, you want $100,000... in cash?"

The cashier stood still, staring with a curious look.

Ellen replied quickly. "Yes, I need cash. I am leaving today and have no time to wait for delays."

The teller looked at the check then back at Ellen. Spinning on her heels without saying a word, she walked into a glass cubicle where the manager sat behind a desk. Ellen watched as the girl pointed in Ellen's direction. The manager took the check as he picked up his phone. Coming back to the counter, the teller pointed to the office.

"You can wait in Mr. Crother's office. He will take care of your transaction from there."

Stepping passed the roped line, Ellen headed towards the office in a headlong trot. Like a lioness charging in protection of her cubs, she stood before his desk, not even taking a seat. Standing steadfast, she looked straight into the eyes of the manager, silently daring him to deny her future. Mentally challenging him to even attempt to delay her birthright. She was bound and determined to get her hands on that cash and put it to use immediately to bring her long lost sister home.

The bank manager could see the moxie in Ellen's eyes. Her raw red-blooded American drive was intimating. Fueled by the fire of her father's dying wishes and her answered prayer, she was no woman to tangle with today. After verifying the check's validity, he phoned the teller desk, ordering one hundred thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills to be delivered to his office discreetly.

Across the river, finishing his meal, Rob was feeling a mild panic set into his veins. Charley's last words, "You'll be sorry," kept repeating in his ears. "What did she mean? Was that just an angry idle threat, or was it real?" he wondered.

Tossing his crumpled cash on the table, Rob walked out of the Anchor Grill. Standing on the sidewalk, he wondered what to do next. Where could he go? Who could help him put a finger on his pulse of doubt and indecision? Fearing to return home, he felt suddenly alone, helplessly lost and alone. Then he realized.... Ellen! Ellen would be his guiding light. Of course, her pure soul was the singular wit that could steer him on the right course of action.

Walking down the block, Rob thumbed his phone to call her again. He needed her wisdom, her unwavering honesty, her courage, her understanding and her kindness. These were the qualities he had never found in any other woman before. The spark between them had lit the fire that had been growing in him. Now, crossing the busy street, the flame grew to a raging fire.

He needed to talk to her, explain his feelings and his regret over the pushing her that night. He stood with the phone to his ear, thinking of the words to say as he waited for her to answer. "Damn!" he said aloud as her phone switched to voicemail. Determined to see her, he decided to go to her apartment. Wasting no time, he jogged across the street to the corner bar. He knew cabs collected there. Hailing the nearest car, he jumped in and shut the door.

"Newport, Fourth and Monmouth."

As the cab growled away, Rob felt a sense of relief. The yellow Ford dodged down the pot holed streets and cobble stone alleys on the way to Ellen's apartment. Rob felt nervous anxiousness as he drew closer. As the cab turned onto her block, he rose in his seat. Excited that mere seconds from now his fears and doubts would be washed away in her soothing blue eyes.

Little did Rob know, at that exact moment, Ellen's cab was heading in a totally opposite direction at 70 MPH, whisking her to the airport on the highway. She saw the call from Rob and wanted to answer badly. Nonetheless, she let it go to voicemail.

"I can't take the thought of explaining to him now. I have to get on that plane now or I will never go, I just know it. I will call when I arrive... as soon as I arrive. Maybe... somehow we can go from there," she thought as she watched the phone blink with a new voicemail.

Arriving at the busy terminal, Ellen rushed up to the nearest airline ticket desk.

"I need a ticket to Ho Chi Minh City, the first available flight."

The cashier punched away at his keyboard.

"I have a two o'clock flight to New York, connecting to Paris, then nonstop to Ho Chi Minh."

"Great!" she replied.

"Okay, that will be twenty six hundred and seventy-three dollars."

As Ellen pulled out her cash the teller looked concerned. She peeled off twenty-eight crisp bills, placing them on the counter.

"I just need your ID and the number of bags you are checking," he said, counting the cash.

"I don't have any bags but this one," Ellen replied.

He looked up surprised.

"No problem, that's a carry on... One non-refundable one-way ticket to Ho Chi Minh, via New York and Paris... no checked bags."

The ticket sputtered out of the printer as Ellen anxiously waited. The cashier tucked it into an envelope and instructed her to wait at gate seven.

"Your flight will leave in fifty minutes, flight 301 to JFK. Take a seat or feel free to enjoy the lounge until you hear your boarding call."

Ellen seemed pleased.

"What is in the lounge?" she asked with a smile.

"There is a Starbucks, a Wolfgang Pucks and many other dining options you can enjoy while you wait. In approximately thirty minutes we will call for boarding on your flight. Please be prompt with your ticket at the first boarding call. The lounge is just down that corridor."

Ellen looked as he pointed down the huge hallway. "Thanks," she said as she trotted happily away.

Her appetite had been ignored for days. She felt a powerful craving for food now. "Wolfgang Puck? That's sounds interesting," she thought as she passed by the airport restaurants.

Scanning the menu, she wondered if Wolfgang's pizza lived up to the hype. It certainly sounded good. Reading on, she saw the Sirloin Burger. The idea of a big fat meaty burger seemed more attractive than a pizza. The "Herb seasoned French Fries" sealed the deal.

"Can I help you?" the cashier asked.

"One burger, medium, with fries please," Ellen replied softly.

"Will that be all?" The cashier asked.

"Umm... Oh! A New York cheesecake as well," she said with a giggle as she handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill. She was well aware that this type of food was what fueled her size, yet still she couldn't help herself from indulging.

The cashier delivered the cheesecake while Ellen was still at the counter. Taking her seat, Ellen looked it over with salivating lips as she waited for the burger. A minute later, she pulled the creamy cake closer.

"Who says dessert has to come after the meal?" she thought as she forked into the high calorie treat.

The first taste brought back the memory of Rob's fried cheesecake. A brief moment of reflection gave her pause.

"Rob... Oh how I wish things were different with us. You are the only one I wanted... I suppose in my heart, the only one I still want...

With the first bite, her thoughts were solidly fixated on the dessert. The silky cheesecake eased her pain and steadied her pulse. When the big beautiful burger appeared at the table, she was thoroughly lost to the throws of her aggressive appetite. Thoughts of Rob subsided into her subconscious as the meaty treat took full control of her conscious mind, filling her with enthusiasm for the next bite.

Outside Ellen's apartment building, Rob was also full of enthusiasm as he took long fast strides up to the door. He saw Emmett in the window; they waved at one another as he stood on the stoop. Seconds later, the door lock buzzed and Rob took the stairs up to Ellen's floor. Taking two at a time, he leaped as fast as he could up the three flights. Jogging down the hall, he came to Ellen's door. Knocking hard, he waited anxiously. Hearing no reply, he used his broken card to jimmy the lock open.

Stepping inside, Rob immediately saw the unmistakable signs of turmoil. The rooms were strewn with clothes and shoes, papers were scattered all around. Drawers, tubs and containers were spilled out across the floor. He called Ellen's name as he went from room to room looking for any sign of her. Littered vacancy was all he found. The whole place was in utter disarray, as if it had been ransacked by burglars.

Rob's feelings of exuberant hope and excitement dropped to sudden worry and woeful concern. "Where could she be? Why would her apartment be overturned and torn apart like this? Did this have something to do with George? Would he be willing to go as so far to kidnap Ellen in return for the video?"

Fearing something terrible had taken place; he took a seat on the couch. Deciding he would wait for her to return, he sat back on the pillows. He could do little else but sit, wonder, worry, and wait. In his confused concern, he never even noticed the note on the counter among the clutter Ellen left for him.
Chapter 23

The sun was sinking behind the buildings as Rob woke from a troubled sleep on Ellen's sofa. Awaking from his unplanned nap, he found no more sign of Ellen now than when he first arrived. Scanning the litter in the rooms, he decided to look closer for clues as to what may have happened. His parched dry mouth led him to the fridge first. Opening the gold door, Rob saw just what he needed, beer. Ellen's fridge was stocked with it. Several brands took up the bulk of the shelves.

"Thank You Sgt. Marco!" he said out loud as he pulled a cold Heineken from the door.

Rob sat on the sofa drinking the green bottles. Thumbing his phone, he called Ellen's number again. As the phone began to ring, he leaned forward with anticipation. Again it went to voicemail. Rob slumped back onto the sofa. He couldn't imagine where Ellen had gone, or why she wouldn't answer his calls. "First Charley threatens me... Now Ellen is missing and her place is all torn up." He prayed there wasn't a connection, but couldn't help but worry that his video had unknowingly caused her disappearance.

Bottle after bottle was consumed over the next few hours. Sitting in the dark silent room drinking, he imagined the worst. Deciding to head home and return tomorrow, he walked to the door, locking it behind him.

The night air was cool and crisp. The streetlights illuminated the faces as Rob passed by. Not bothering to hail a cab, he decided to walk. Nearly aimlessly, he made his way across Newport to the Big Purple People Bridge. Midway across, he paused as a giggling couple passed by him holding hands, pointing to their lock on the railing with a loving smile. Their happiness unnerved him.

The water under the bridge looked like milk chocolate, dark and brown as it rolled under his feet. Standing on the bridge, he could see The Good Ship on the bank. It looked majestic lit up against the starry sky, its mirror reflection shimmering on the water. Coming off the bridge, Rob wandered his way towards home alone in the night.

High in the sky, Ellen wasn't even close to being alone. She was sandwiched in a seat with over 200 other passengers destined for New York City. Being her first ever flight, the takeoff had shaken her. Now, high in the clouds, cruising at 30,000 feet, her ears rang in pain from the sudden altitude.

The man beside her was obviously irritated by Ellen's presence. He kept shuffling his position, glancing at her up and down every time he squirmed in his seat. For the first time in her life, Ellen couldn't care less. She was on her way to a great adventure. Now, she traveled with true purpose. She felt her father's spirit surrounding her. She sensed he was accompanying her along this special voyage to find her unknown sister. Resting in the comfort of that thought, she dozed off in dreamy excitement, completely and happily oblivious to the rude intolerant ass seated next to her.

It was after dinnertime by the time Ellen's flight landed. Stepping off the plane, she felt her hunger burning again. It had only been less than a day since she took to the air, but the hunger had returned nonetheless. The Wolfgang burger had held her over, but now her dinnertime craving was coming on strong. She needed a real meal and soon.

Suddenly she realized... "I'm in New York! Culinary capital of the country... I have a long wait for the next flight. I will have time to eat at a truly great restaurant while I'm here. It would be a shame to pass up on a world class meal in favor of airport food."

The Wolfgang Puck burger was decent, but the notion of a first rate New York dining experience was too enticing to pass up. Ellen assumed a local cabbie would be able to direct her to just such a place. Back at home, Carl was more than a cabbie; he was a well-qualified guide, a knowledgeable asset to any who rode with him, and a valued friend to her. A great cabbie could point her in the right direction, she felt certain of that.

Walking out of the terminal, Ellen faced a sea of yellow. Countless cabs in long rows crowded the lanes. As she walked slowly by, she scanned the faces, searching for one that seemed to have eyes of kindness and wisdom as Carl's. Car after car, every face was devoid of anything that resembled kindness or wisdom to her. Dark faces of some strange unknown origin flashed back steely black eyes, cold and hard, like a shark. Pushing and shoving, people passed by her on both sides. Bumped and brushed, suddenly she felt alone, very alone and vulnerable.

Walking along the unfamiliar New York sidewalk, Ellen was gripped in confusion. Stopping dead still as hundreds of people pushed past her, she felt near terror to even take a step. At that exact same moment in Cincinnati, Rob was taking no steps either. He was on his fifth vodka tonic, stiff ones to boot.

The bartender had not spoke directly to Rob since he greeted him on his arrival. He simply kept an eye on the glass, refilling it as needed without saying a word, the sign of a truly great barkeep. Rob's vision was beginning to blur, his balance steadied by his elbows on the bar. His mind was slowly lulled into a numbing dull blank. Ellen's disappearance stayed foremost in his tormenting thoughts.

Far from the bar in Newport, Ellen was clamped in a steel vise of confusion. She had never reconciled the crippling feelings and wrecked emotions of her dad's sudden death, let alone the realization that she had a sister she never knew existed. Without a second thought or even a hint of planning, she had bolted from her apartment in a moment of extreme anxiety fueled by her sadness. Now, without warning, the floodgates opened, rushing her emotions.

Standing motionless in the crowd, a friendly face appeared before her. A face with kind concerned eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the man spoke warm words.

"Miss, Miss, Are you okay?"

Ellen turned to see a grey haired airport security guard looking at her.

"I just arrived from Cincinnati... I wanted to eat somewhere truly good and... I was trying to find a ride that... I hoped to find a cabbie that could help me, a guide really... But now... Now, I don't know..."

He steadied her with an arm, walking her to the curb.

"Let's move out of the way. Just take it easy. I'm sure I can help you find what you need," he said reassuringly.

"I have a flight that leaves in three hours. I have never been to New York before. I've never been anywhere really," Ellen said, nervously laughing.

Smiling, the guard patted her back. "Now don't worry, it will be fine. New York is a rough town. People here will step over a dying child if it means stopping to help will make them late for their latte. What you need to do is find a place nearby to sit in safety and wait for your plane."

Turning to him, she smiled with a nod.

"Thank You Sir, I am so sorry, I am such a fool. I was so thrilled to be on this trip. My dad just died, I am taking this trip for him, to find my sister... It was his dying wish. So I can have a family again I guess."

She began to tear as she spoke about him.

"I'm sure your dad would be proud," the guard said softly.

Ellen looked up, smiling through her tears.

"I doubt it," she replied. "He was a soldier and so strong. I'm pretty sure he would be teasing me right now if he were here."

She laughed as she wiped her eyes.

"A soldier? Was he in combat?" the guard asked.

She looked sad again as she explained, "Yes, Vietnam."

She spoke the words softly, with reverence.

Glancing down at Ellen's military duffle, he spoke to her with compassion.

"I was in Nam' myself, Army Infantry. Bloody nightmare. Lots of good men were lost to us there. I still don't know why. Believe me, your dad was lucky to get back home."

Those words made Ellen spark to life. She looked up at him with bright eyes. With that look he saw how much she loved her dad. For some sentimental reason, he felt compelled to help this fallen comrade's daughter.

"I tell you what," he said. "I get off shift here in a few minutes. I will drop you at a great restaurant not too far. After dinner, I will call a cabbie friend to come fetch you and bring you back here for your flight. You just sit right over there, I will be around in a few in a red Jeep."

Sitting on the plastic bench, Ellen felt the power of relief flow through her veins like a strong drug. Her fear had vanished. She was sure that her father's spirit had once again come to her rescue. Nevertheless, she gripped her bag tightly for safekeeping.

"What are the odds another soldier from that time and place would pick her out in this sea of people and generously offer his help?" she wondered. Beaming with pride and renewed enthusiasm, she waited with excitement.

Watching the people rush past, Ellen embraced the feeling of her father's presence, it comforted and relaxed her. "He really is here with me," she thought. "He is here and his love and protection is still here." She sat positively exuberant over her re-enforced realization that Sgt. Marco Addison was still keeping his watchful eye on his little girl.

Back in Newport, sitting at the bar, Rob was trying to calm his twisting anxiety with his strong drink, yet he felt no real comfort. The vodka was slurring his mind into a mush. But still the haunting thoughts of Ellen's disappearance kept replaying bad scenes in his head. "Where the hell was she? Was she taken? If not, why would she suddenly disappear like this, all alone and with little if any money? What if George did take her, to trade for that damn video?"

As Rob rubbed his head in worry, he thought about how Ellen likely spent most or all of her income on bills and taking care of her ailing father. Seeing her apartment, he knew first hand she lived basically poor. Without warning, she had simply vanished without a word. He couldn't face the scenarios that kept playing out in his mind. Terrible tragedy and vicious endings consumed his thoughts.

"Damn!" he cried out. With clenched fists, he punched down hard on the bar. No one cared, no one even noticed.

Feeling the pressure in his groin growing, Rob stumbled to the restroom. Standing in front of the urinal, he relived himself with eyes closed. He had barely finished when suddenly he was spun around and punched hard in the stomach.

"Urgh!" he coughed loudly as he sunk to the dirty floor.

"Rob Anderson!" A voice spoke up strongly behind him. "Rob, you and I have begun a bad relationship. You see... I have a problem. I love your food and I respect your talent. I truly do. But I hate the fact that you have decided to attempt to compromise me."

Looking up, seeing double, Rob could not quite make out the faces in front of him.

"Search him and find his phone," the voice said.

A blurry man shoved Rob up against the wall, running his hands through Rob's pockets. Rob leaned against the wall in pain as the hands searched him.

"No phone here," the man said as he finished rifling Rob's pockets.

Standing silent, Rob remembered that he had left it on the bar.

"Rob, Rob, Rob, what would you have me do with you? You took a bold liberty recording that video. I take serious offense to a disrespectful thing like that. Now, you can give me the phone, or you can go the hospital and we will resume our conversation upon your release."

Feeling dizzy sick, Rob's stomach was churning from the punch, and the vodka. Nearly heaving, he tried to speak.

"I... I don't have..."

With a guttural lurch, followed by a hard slap against the sink, his stomach spewed out hot vodka and burning bile with sudden force. Both of the men backed away as the vomit splattered. In-between surges of throwing up, Rob tried to speak.

"I don't have it.... I would give it if I had it.... I don't have it... "

Spinning the faucet, Rob cupped his hands under the water, throwing a cold splash into his face. As his blurred eyes began to clear, he turned to make out the face beside him. It was George.

The bathroom door sprang open with a creak. The bartender peered in. Seeing George's man holding Rob's collar, he realized instantly something was wrong.

"What the Fuck!" he yelled, dashing closer to help.

George blocked his path to Rob.

"Go back to your bar, bartender, we are just having a private conversation here with my friend Rob," George said calmly.

Martinez looked at George, then to the guy holding Rob. He saw his steely stare. Rob looked back at him with pleading eyes. Without hesitation, he quickly shoved past George and tackled the man behind Rob. Grabbing his wrist. Twisting his arm behind his back, he pulled the man to the wall with a police style wrist hold. The man struggled in vain as he slipped on the wet floor.

As the man fell, Martinez landed on top of him, wrenching his wrist even harder. George turned to help his fallen man but Rob came rushing from behind, wrapping his arms through George's shoulders. Crossing his hands on the back of George's straining neck with a Full Nelson hold, Rob shoved him to the floor, pinning his face against the cold tile. George struggled in vain to free himself. Rob bent his neck down further, closer to snapping his spine with each painful inch. Feeling the intense pain, George held out his arms.

"Okay, okay Rob. You made your point. Now, let me go."

Rob slowly released him.

Shaking Rob's arms away, George stood up, straightening his jacket.

"Come on, we are leaving," George said to the man on the floor.

Martinez freed the squirming man, watching him nervously with raised fists as the two walked out of the restroom. Following close behind, he walked behind them to the front door. Rob came out of the restroom, just in time to see the two getting into a car. Staring through the glass, still unable to see totally clearly, he watched as George's black car sped off into the streets.

"Jesus Man! What the hell was that?" Martinez asked as he held the door open for Rob.

"Ah, just an asshole I guess," Rob replied. "Nothing to worry about, but damn I'm glad you came in when you did!"

The bartender slapped Rob's back.

"This is my bar man. I run it and no one gets out of line when I'm here. Besides, I came back to see if you were okay. I thought you might be sick but I never thought you were getting accosted. Who is that guy?"

"Just some dick. He won't be back," Rob replied with a shrug as he rubbed his side.

"I will guarantee that my friend," Martinez said as he hopped back behind the bar. "I've never seen him before but he's barred out of here now. How about a drink? You look like you could use one."

Rob shook his head as he tossed two twenty-dollar bills on the bar.

"No more for me man. I'm going home. I need to rest. That goon really socked me hard. I don't know which is going to hurt worse in the morning, that punch or your stiff ass drinks."

As Rob headed to the door he heard a shout.

"Stay safe my brother!"

In that moment, Rob realized that might not be as easy as he once thought.

"Ellen!" he shouted out across the sidewalk. "Where the hell are you?"

Little did he know, Ellen was riding on the highway, headed back to JFK. The white-capped Atlantic sea looked amazing through the Jeep's wavy plastic window as she crossed the bridge with her new friend. It was the first time seeing an ocean for her. She was relaxed now. The gracious security guard was driving her back from an amazing Italian dinner at Trattori L'Incontro in Queens. Over the fine food, they talked about their pasts, their lives, and their future. The food and experience was exactly what she had hoped to find, made unexpectedly better by the kind company.

After Ellen insisted she pay for the impressive meal, the guard decided to drive her back to JFK himself, making certain that she got on her flight to Paris without incident. Wishing her a warm goodbye, he gave her a friendly hug. Ellen waved goodbye and disappeared back into the busy terminal.

Stepping onto the plane, she settled back in her seat, her fears calmed and her belly full, she found herself at peace. She was ready to sleep and dream her way across the Atlantic in good spirits with renewed confidence. Paris lay in wait over the sea, ready to greet her in just over eight hours. She was excited to see her first foreign city, and even more excited to be that much closer to her unknown sister Maria.
Chapter 24

The following morning, Miguel prepped the line as usual, he had everything ready for his chef's approval, but Rob never appeared. The clock clicked past eleven. The lunch rush would hit shortly. Rob was always at work by this time. Sandra walked back to tell Miguel about the first order that had just been phoned in.

"Miguel sweetie. That steak and fish are to-go."

Miguel looked at the ticket as he called the order back to Micah.

"One rib eye rare, one cod to go."

Looking at Sandra, Miguel asked about Rob.

"Where is señor Rob?" he asked.

Sandra shook her head. "He's not coming in until dinner. Says he will be here around four or five."

She looked at him with a teasing smile.

"That means you have the helm here Miguel. The whole Ship is in your hands. I know you can pull it off."

Looking back at her with concerned eyes, Miguel wasn't so sure.

"Sí, we can cook the lunch... eets the dinner service I worry about."

Winking with a smile, Sandra walked off without a reply. Miguel had cooked lunch alone many times, but pushing through a busy dinner service without Rob had him seriously nervous. This was something well beyond his experience.

The lunch service was busier than usual. Nonetheless, the crew took control of the line and the service flew by without a hitch. Miguel had kept the pace moving quickly as Micah kept the orders coming out. Armando was called to the line to perform extra duties in an effort to make up for Rob's absence.

During the lull before dinner, another round of prep was in order. Gallons of stock needed reduced, meat needed trimmed and portioned. The sauces were emptied and refilled. Vegetables had to be washed, sliced and cut to Rob's demanding specifications. Polished plates and silverware were stacked high. The line was cleaned to sterile perfection.

After the prep was over, the mess was cleaned up and the whole process of intense service would repeat for dinner. The stainless kitchen shined as it sat idle, nearly silent except for the hum of the exhaust fans and the buzz of the coolers. Like the calm eye of a tornado, the kitchen was eerily still, poised for the impending full-on push to come.

Miguel looked over the equipment and inspected Micah's knife work on the trimmed meats as he watched the clock, nervously waiting for Rob to arrive. Miguel desperately wanted him to be proud of their efforts. As the crew took their break, the clock clicked past three. Setting up the line for the dinner service, Miguel nervously noticed the clock click past four, then five... but there was still no sign of Rob. As the first orders came in, Miguel began to worry.

Around six, a serious string of dinner orders began to spit out of the printer.

"Lees-sen up!" Miguel called out in his best attempt to imitate Rob. "One rib, one burger bloody, one shrimp, one crab app. Followed by, one crab app, one crab app, one rib, one filet bloody, one rib, one lobster, one rib. That's four rib, three crab apps all day!" he yelled with authority.

Micah tossed shiny pans on the stove for each order as he called them back to Miguel. The initial pace was manageable, but even Micah began to be concerned as the clock ticked on.

"What's up with Rob? Is he coming or what man?" Micah asked as he shook a pan of sizzling shrimp scampi.

"I'm sure he will, but don't worry about that. Just focus on the food you have working. That's all you ever need to do. No future, no past, think only right now, dees one dish ees all that matters. That's what Chef says, remember?" Miguel replied as he turned the four racks of ribs on the flaming grill.

"Sandra said he will be here for dinner, but if he was coming, he would be here by now, you know man?" Micah asked as he glanced at Miguel's ribs.

"If he doesn't show, I think we can do it," Micah continued, shaking a pan of crab cakes as they began to brown.

"We can do eet for sure," Miguel replied. "Eets how well we can do eet that worries me amigo. Eets how well that matters most. If we drop an order or two, that's no big deal. But if we lose control, and we get set back an hour into the weeds, that will be a big deal," Miguel replied as he plated the ribs.

"Then again, maybe you screw it all up and I have to demand Chef fires you," Miguel said, teasing the hippie as Micah slid the golden crab cakes onto a polished plate.

"I guess we will see," Micah said, shrugging. "Chef-less in a full on dinner service... Awesome, just what I always looked forward to."

Laughing, Miguel called out to the servers. "Table 21... 21 order up! Get eet while it's hot!"

As the clock clicked past seven, the kitchen crew realized they would be on their own tonight. Sandra came back to the pass to check on her orders.

"Looks like-a' we gonna' have-a no chef tonight," Miguel said as he passed her food to her.

Sandra didn't reply, secretly she was as worried as he was. Not only worried about the kitchen's stability, but also what could be going on with Rob. Stacking the plates across her arm, she turned to leave. Just before dashing out to the dining room she shot Miguel a smile.

"You can do it. I have faith in you. We will try to make it as easy on you guys as we can. I will tell the servers not to ring in tables back to back as much as possible. That should give you a little breathing room between orders."

With a quick wink, she disappeared out the swinging doors.

Shortly after eight, the dining room was filled to a wait. Customers were stacked around the hostess desk, scanning for an empty table with hungry eyes. Many customers decided to wait at the bar, filling every stool as well as the cocktail tables. Jules felt the strain of trying to keep the drinks flowing fast enough to keep the customers satisfied, while simultaneously working the server orders as well.

Hostesses were seating new diners at tables faster than the bussers could clean them off. All good things for the profit margin, not such good things for The Ship's line crew. The shorthanded cooks were feeling the heat as the printer spewed out order after order out before their eyes. Yellow ribbons of paper a foot long kept spilling from its sputtering mouth, every inch containing a new table's order.

The pass line was crowded with the frustrated faces of the near frantic servers. At any given moment a string of people hovered the window, staring at the rows of plates, waiting for their orders to be passed over to them.

"Is that my steak?" Charley asked as she pushed her way through the crowd.

"No! That's mine!" Heather called out, nudging Charley aside with her hips. "Back off Charley, I have a steak and ribs for twenty-eight that has been dragging. That's gotta' be mine," Heather said as Charley continued reaching for the steak.

Ignoring her, Charley pulled on the edge of the plate.

"Charley! I told you it's mine!" Heather repeated, more hostile this time.

"Miguel is this for 28? Miguel!" Heather asked, yelling through the window at the rushing cook.

Miguel turned with an angry face, yelling to the anxious servers.

"God Damn eet! Leave eet alone! Eets not for you Heather, eets for 42!"

Pulling the yellow ticket, he read it loudly. "Steak and lamb for forty-two!" he yelled with a deadly stare.

Micah passed him a sizzling plate of lamb chops. Miguel wiped the edges and placed it beside the steak, slamming the ticket beside the plates.

"And here ees the lamb... Order up Charley!"

"See! I told you it was mine. Nobody ever fucking listens to me," she said as she pushed in front of Heather, snatching up the steaming food, heading out the door in a trot.

Desperate to keep control of the line, Miguel struggled as the servers attempted to pillage the waiting plates like pirates seizing bits of bounty. Even Micah grew tired of the added stress from worrying that the servers would steal food from the window.

"Jesus people! Leave the food the fuck alone! It's not your order and even if it is, it's not finished yet! The next hand that touches as plate is getting smashed!" Micah yelled to the angry mob, swatting at their probing fingers with a thick steel spatula.

Micah pulled more ribbon from the printer before it touched down to the wet floor. Seeing Miguel was busy on the grill, he tore off the tickets, calling them out nervously.

"Miguel, now we have a.... One filet well, one rib... sub baker, one fish, two lamb... one sub broccoli... one sub rice, two rib... I mean two... no, wait. Uh... three... yeah, three rib all day."

Doing his best to keep the orders straight, Micah studied the tickets again after calling out the orders. That was always Rob's job.

"Micah! Leave eet alone! I call the orders. You just work your station," Miguel shouted at him over the crashing noise of the kitchen.

"Yeah I know but the paper was almost to the floor! You're going to ruin the tickets if you don't pull them off before they hit the wet tile," Micah yelled back in his defense as he resumed his position.

The flames shot high through the grill grates. The big Viking range roared like a blast furnace, loaded to capacity. With twelve pans on the sauté station all working at the same time, Micah moved like a pro basketball player under triple guard, desperate to maintain possession of the ball under heavy fire from the aggressive opposing players. His arms and legs strained in all directions at once as he manipulated the sizzling pans with both hands. Dodging side to side, up and down to fetch ingredients for the dishes. Along with his loaded station, he also kept a stressed but watchful eye on the meat covering Miguel's grill while he stacked the pass.

Busy arranging the plates, Miguel squeezed them together. The rows of entrees were hovering in stasis like planes circling in a never-ending holding pattern above a busy Christmas weekend airport. Each order was waiting for an all-important, yet dragging item to complete it.

With sharp eyes, Miguel guarded the plates from being snatched up by greedy fingers from the other side. One mistake, one plate accidentally taken with the wrong order and whoosh! It would all be gone, hopelessly delaying the table it was intended for. If a crash happened during a rush this intense, it would set the line back horribly. Inevitably causing screaming curses from frantic servers, not to mention, angry complaints from their waiting customers.

Running back to the line in a fast trot, Sandra wiped her sweaty brow.

"Miguel! I need thirty-five on the fly! It's been an hour already!"

No one dared talk back to her. Especially not when she was in this stressed of a mood.

"35... eets coming! Three minutes!" Miguel called back to her without even looking.

She watched as the cooks scrambled and struggled to keep up.

"We are falling behind bad guys... You have to pull it together or we are headed into the highest weeds of all time!" She yelled at their backs.

Ignoring her threat, Miguel yelled over his shoulder.

"Thirty-five ees well done Sandra, well done takes time. And we are fucking pulling eet together! Why do you think dee fucking pass ees stacked with so many orders?"

Micah flipped the meat on the grill. Jumping back as flames whisked his long hair. Sliding the tickets into order, Miguel started calling out the ones that were dragging.

"We need to push two rib for fourteen! One filet well for thirty-five!"

Sandra watched in near tears as the line worked furiously.

She knew it would be easy for them to drop a ticket in this torrent of haste. Forgetting or misplacing just a single plate would bring the momentum crashing to a halt. This was the peak of the pressure. She anxiously studied Miguel's every move as he stacked her order onto the pass. Snatching it quickly, she took the hot plates, rushing back out to the dining room.

Nearing the table, her rushed step slowed. Her demeanor instantly changed from frantic to complete control as she neared the guests. With a calm smile she placed the food onto the table.

"Here is your well-done steak mam, and the cod for you sir. I apologize about the wait. We are running at full steam tonight. I realize it took longer than expected but I am sure the food will be worth the wait. Enjoy your meals," she said smiling as she dashed back to the service station.

"Keep the tables bussed!" she said angrily at the passing servers.

"I thought that's why we tip out the bussers," Charley shot back with a scowl.

Sandra turned to her, pointing a finger straight at her face.

"Bus the damn tables Charley. Don't talk back to me! Not now, not tonight. I swear to god I will kick your ass right off this Ship the instant I hear one more sass from you."

Charley stomped off, murmuring under her breath. Sandra checked the computer; every table's order across the dining room had been rung in and was working. She felt a slight relief knowing that the worst was nearly over. With a quick keystroke, she pulled up the current evening's totals. The number was impressive, $12,397 so far. Not quite a record, but seriously solid sales nonetheless.

As she scanned the totals, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Glancing over to see whom it was, she shook with a spark of surprise. It was George. He was looking at the numbers over her shoulder when her eyes caught his.

"Over twelve thousand... and that's not even counting desserts and cocktails yet to come, not bad without your magic Chef on board."

Startled, she quickly swiped the terminal back to its blank log in screen.

She wondered, "How did George know Rob wasn't working? How could he have possibly known that?" She feigned the importance of her missing Chef.

"No, not bad. It won't break any records, but it will do." Not even mentioning Rob, she walked off without waiting for his reply.

As the last orders made their way out of the kitchen Sandra stepped outside, catching a moment of the cool night breeze. "Where is that bastard?" she wondered. Rob had never missed work. He usually showed up early, stayed late, and even worked doubles without complaint. She didn't like the comment from George. She kept repeating his words in her mind. "Why was he stealing a look at the computer? And how did he know about Rob?" she wondered.

Truth be told, she was worried. She knew things with Rob and her were distant since their argument at The Pub. She wondered if she should use his unusual disappearance as an excuse to go see him at home.

"Just as a concerned friend and manager.... I just wanted to see if you needed anything, I was worried about you... I do care about you after all." It sounded plausible to her as she played out the excuse in her mind. "How could he be angry with me for simply being concerned?"

Jogging to the bar, Sandra noticed George talking to Charley.

"Charley," she said, pointing her finger. "I'm telling you for the last time, start on your side work if you're caught up with your tables."

Ignoring her order, Charley simply turned back to George. Sandra didn't budge.

"I know you have side work to do Charley. Now is not the time to stop and chat," she said, staring at the unresponsive Charley.

With a roll of her eyes, the surly server reluctantly heeded her call and walked away slowly. Looking at George, Sandra put her hand on her hip.

"She has too much to do to be tied up talking right now."

Stepping closer to Sandra, he spoke quietly, waving his wine with a nod towards Charley.

"Please forgive Charley. It was my fault she was distracted. By the way, I was wondering... A young girl like that, so ambitious and talented, I would think you would consider giving her more responsibility. Train her as an assistant manager perhaps?"

Turning to walk away, Sandra stopped in her tracks, looking dead at him.

"Charley has a long way to go before she will ever have keys to this place. She needs to show me more professionalism before I consider any position other than she has now. Not that it's any of your concern."

George nodded in passive agreement, sipping his wine as Sandra turned away from him, walking back into the kitchen to check on her remaining orders. After a quick chat with Jules, George realized Charley was far from a professional in her trade. Watching her reluctantly begin her side work, he noticed she stopped in front of a mirror. Disregarding her duties, she casually freshened up her make-up, slowly re-lining her lips. Fingering her hair, she posed from side to side, then trotted off outside. Seeing her lack of concern with the Ship business, he decided she would fit in perfectly with his secret plan. If he could continue to enjoy her seductive body while the plan was unfolding, even better.

While the dining room had resumed some sense of control, Miguel and Micah were still working in a furious sweating frenzy to catch up. Armando was crashing pots back to the dish room, piling up a cart with dirty pans from the sauté station as quickly as he could muster, still tediously hand washing due to the broken dish machine. The music from the kitchen radio was turned up loud now, as was tradition during the last hour of service. Walking in, Sandra had to nearly yell over the blaring song to get their attention.

"Miguel... Miguel! When you finish the last orders come see me in the office."

Looking up from the grill, he nodded at her while turning the last few smoking rib racks.

"Sí, sí señorita."

Armando slipped past him, sliding his way on the slippery floor back to the dish room with a stack of steaming hot pots. Miguel plated his last orders and placed them in the pass window.

"Micah, when those shrimp are finished, plate them and send them out. Then get started taking the trash to the dumpster. Tell Army to start mopping after he gets the rest of the pans. I will pull dees mats. Maybe we can still get out of here before last call."

Dancing to a Grateful Dead song blasting from the grease stained stereo, Micah replied loudly, "No problem man! I am sure am looking forward to that! I'm just glad this crazy night is over."

Wiping his hands on a towel, Miguel peeked his head into the office. It was too crowded with servers cashing out to even squeeze in to. Fat stacks of cash were arranged by denomination on the desk. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. The state wide smoking ban was ignored in the private offices used by cooks and servers; no law would ever change that.

"Stick around Miguel. I will be finished here in just a few," Sandra said as her fingers quickly counted the bills.

"Sí, I will be right back," Miguel said.

Jogging back to the kitchen, he checked the trashcans. Seeing they were empty, he began dragging the heavy greasy mats outside to the deck.

"Micah, Army, mop, spray dees mats down, then we go!"

Micah winked as he danced his way across the floor, dragging the mop bucket beside him and singing into the mop handle as if it were a microphone. "Driving that train... High on cocaine... Casey Jones you better, watch your speed..."

Returning to Sandra's office, Miguel peeked in and saw she was alone.

"Shut the door," she said as she finished counting.

"You guys busted some serious ass back there tonight my Mexican friend," she laughed, looking up at him smiling.

"Sí! We made eet through eet okay," he replied, wiping his brow with a clean towel.

"Your coming along great as a lead cook. I think you may be ready to handle dinner shifts on your own soon," she said as she resumed counting the cash. Taking big swallows from a pitcher of ice water, Miguel replied.

"Maybe so, but I would rather work with Rob here. He ees coming back right?" he asked with concern.

"Of course he is. I am going to go talk to him and see if I can help with anything. God knows we will need him behind that line tomorrow. It's supposed to rain again and we are always slammed when it rains. After tonight, I can't even imagine how hard we will get hit tomorrow."

Placing the cash in the safe, gathering her keys, she rose to leave. Turning to Miguel, she smiled and held out a few bills in her hand.

"Here, this is a little thanks from me to the crew. You guys knocked yourselves out back there tonight." she said as she handed him three folded twenty-dollar bills. "I'm sure you are headed to The Pub right? Buy the guys a round on me... That's just between us, right?"

Taking the money, Miguel smiled graciously.

"Sí! Sí! gracias señorita, gracias! You coming to The Pub?" he asked politely.

"No I have other plans for what's left of tonight. You guys have fun... but not too much fun. I don't need your heads stuck in a pillow tomorrow morning."

Miguel smiled back again.

"No no Sandra, we will have a good time tonight, but we will be here ready to work early."

Holding up the money in appreciation, he dashed out the door to meet up with the crew.
Chapter 25

High above the Atlantic, Ellen was fast asleep as her plane rushed towards France over the blackened sea. The plane's tires would screech down smoking on the French asphalt in less than four hours. Her feet would step onto a foreign land for the first time in her life. The past few days were full of firsts for her. This next one would be the biggest yet to come into her life.

It was after one in the morning by the time Sandra knocked on Rob's door. She felt compelled to find out where they stood. For one, she was his boss, and he didn't show up for work. That was not like Rob, he was a solid professional. His talent and ambition had propelled The Ship to the level of profits it was enjoying. He was valuable as The Ship's Chef, not to mention as Sandra's love interest. Their relationship future was obviously in doubt. She wanted to discover just what was going on. Standing at the door, she wondered how to approach the subject as she heard Rob click the lock.

"Well, well, well... he has risen," she teased as she stepped into the dark room.

"I know I know... I'm a total ass," Rob replied sleepily as he turned the light on for her. Squinting, he crashed down on the couch.

"You are still asleep?" she asked, tossing her purse on the sofa.

Closing his eyes, he pulled a cover over his legs with a shrug.

"Laying here in the dark all day and night, do you realize it's almost two? Are ever going to get up? What gives Rob, this isn't like you?" Sandra asked as she sat on the old recliner.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I had a crazy day. I got jumped, slugged in the gut. I thought I could walk it off but I guess I was hit harder than I thought. It still hurts like a bitch. I can barely walk. I wish I had health insurance, I would go to the ER."

Sandra shot him a surprised, concerned look.

"Jesus... What the hell happened?" she asked.

Rob explained the vague details but left out George's name.

"Really Rob? A man your age, still getting into bar fights," Sandra replied.

Getting up, she walked to the kitchen as she spoke.

"Boys will be boys I guess. Anything good in this fridge?" she asked, opening the door.

"Yeah, there is Pad See Ewe, Pad Kee Mao and spring rolls from Tong's Thai. And Mt Carmel Ale... maybe a few ciders too I think. Help yourself," he said, not bothering to get up.

"Oh my god. I love Tongs Thai. It's way out in Milford though. You actually bothered to go out there just for take out?"

Rob didn't stir as he replied. "My neighbor brought it back for me. I was in too much pain to even eat it. He always orders me take out when he eats there. His girl lives over in Milford I think. Anyway, he knows how much I love it. Chef Nike is the cities best kept secret. I can't even eat any other Thai anymore."

"Oh I know," Sandra agreed, scanning the shelves. "It is the best in town. But as much as I do love Tong's Thai... this Angry Orchard is more what I had in mind. Want one?" she asked, holding the door open, illuminating the dark room in a blue pale fluorescent light.

"No way in hell," Rob replied.

"Well, I hate to drink alone, but I do need some stress relief. Tonight was touch and go all night. We teetered on the verge of disaster, but we made it through a thirteen grand night without the customers realizing we were on the edge of the weeds. The guys on the line really needed your help though. They pulled it off, but just by the skin of their teeth."

Her remark made Rob feel guilty. He imagined poor Miguel and Micah running the breakneck pace of a dinner rush without him.

"Damn, I feel bad. I have to make it up to them... But they did alright?" he asked with a hopeful tone.

"Yep," Sandra said between swigs. "They managed. We got through it, let's put it that way."

Sitting up on the sofa, Rob rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Damn, I haven't slept this long in years," he said, rubbing his face and yawning. Sandra took a seat next to him on the sofa. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched her feet up onto the coffee table.

"You need to focus Rob. You're getting too old to keep playing around like an adolescent degenerate cook. You're the executive chef of a well-reviewed multi-million dollar restaurant. You're not a kid anymore you know. It's time to get in a groove, plan for your future. Do you really want to keep burning your arms slinging hot pans for the rest of your life? End up with liver failure from too many nights wasted in some stinky pub? Blowing every dollar of your check drinking yourself into oblivion like the other cooks do? I've seen it so many times before Rob. You can be so much more, you're already well on your way to good things."

Leaning back on the sofa, he sighed. "If you say so Sandra, I guess."

She twisted on the couch, throwing her legs over Rob's lap. "What you need Rob Anderson, is a good woman to keep you on the right track."

He sat in silence, offering no reply. Not knowing what to say, Rob knew what she was getting at. He also knew, she had no idea how he felt about Ellen. He wanted to explain, but couldn't face the angry argument that would ensue.

"I'm sure I do Sandra," he replied. "I'm just not sure I'm ready to even deal with that, especially not now. I think what I really need is a doctor. I may have a bruised kidney or something. I'm not kidding."

Trying to keep her off the subject of romance, without coming out and saying anything that would rile her emotions by mentioning Ellen, Rob stayed silent on the topic of relationships.

"It really hurts that bad?" she asked as she leaned closer. "Let me see if you have a bruise."

Sandra pulled his shirt up, touching his side gently.

"Does it hurt here?" she asked, prodding his ribs.

"Or here?" She asked moving her hand to his belly.

"Yes, Jesus! Damn Sandra! It hurts everywhere," he replied, wincing away.

Slowly she ran her hand between his legs.

"Does it hurt here?" she asked, feeling for his manhood through his pants.

Before he could reply, or attempt to stop her advances, she slid off the sofa, worming down between his legs.

"Maybe this will make you feel better," she said slyly, unbuckling his belt.

"C'mon Sandra. I'm not up for... I just want to rest," he said as she tugged at zipper.

As he stopped her with a quick grab, she paused, resting her head on his thigh. He looked down at her face. It was a lovely face. Her sultry eyes were filled with hunger and sex.

"I bet I can make you feel better," she teased.

Just as he was about to get up, she stopped him with a push. Standing up, she moved close to him as she slid her pants down her legs. He watched her silently as she wormed off her cotton work pants, standing naked from the waist down in the dim light. He admired her form. She was a true beauty in the nude.

"Remember how great it felt the last time you were in me?" she asked, sliding her hands up his thighs.

Moving over his lap, she tugged at his zipper again.

"Sandra... Sandra... Stop... Sandra stop! I don't think we..."

He realized she wasn't taking no for an answer as she yanked the zipper open and began sliding his pants down.

With both arms, he picked her up, throwing her to the sofa beside him. Landing on her back, she crossed her arms and clamped her bare legs tight on the sofa with a frown. Jumping off the couch with a leap, pulling his pants up, Rob limped away down the dark hallway into the bathroom. Behind the locked door he waited in silence for her response.

After several tense minutes, he heard the reply he hoped to avoid.

"Fine Rob! You don't want me! I'm leaving then, and this is the last time I'm leaving because this is the last time you will see me here again Rob Anderson, do you hear me? The last fucking time! I don't understand what's with you lately. I don't even know why I bothered to come over. But don't worry, I won't bother you anymore."

After a brief moment, he heard the front door slam as he sighed against the cool tiled wall. Sandra would never forgive him for tonight. She may never even be able to work with him again.

Gut wrenching tension was building as he realized he probably just caused a rift that would ruin his job. Sitting in the bathroom, head in his hands, feeling his side throb, he thought about his disintegrating future. Ellen was gone. And now his job would likely be gone soon too. Even if Sandra didn't have the power to fire him, how could he face her in the morning? What could he do now? His avoidance of telling her about his feelings for Ellen had brought them both to this terrible conclusion. There was no turning back after tonight.

"I may as well start looking for a new job tomorrow," was all he could think.
Chapter 26

Intense anxiety shivered Rob's nerves as he sulked through the darkened apartment. Opening the fridge, he took out a cold Mt Carmel Ale, tossing the top into the trash. Sinking into the sofa he sighed, taking deep swigs off the brown bottle. He sat thinking about what had just taken place in the past day. George's unexpected assault, Ellen's mysterious disappearance, Charley's slut parade, Sandra's angry rejection, and the end of the best job he had ever managed to rise up to. Years of hard work, hundreds of long hard nights had just been flushed down the drain from his late night liaison with Sandra.

That careless romp had turned her feelings on towards him, now the situation had blew up out of control. He knew it was his own fault, he couldn't deny that. He had never given Sandra any idea he secretly wanted another woman. Suddenly he felt sorrow for her hurt feelings. He should have told her the moment she asked what was going on. But he didn't. Maybe it was to avoid a bad argument, or to spare her a sad rejection. Either way, now it was too late to explain. Sandra had just stormed out madder than hell. No doubt she would calm down and plot her revenge.

"This sucks... What the hell can happen next?" he wondered, taking a big swig from the cold bottle.

Silently pondering his fate, he was startled as a loud knock shook the door. Rising up off the sofa, he called out as he rose to open it.

"Sandra, I'm sorry. Will you please just go cool off, I don't want to fight with you."

Hearing the knock again, he turned the knob. Just as the door opened, it was pushed open against his chest.

"Jesus Sandra! I said I don't want to fight..."

Blinking, half blinded by the bright hall lights, he stood staring at the figure in the doorway. It was George.

"Rob Anderson. Just the man I wish to see," George said as he stepped into Rob's apartment.

"What the hell George! What are you doing here?" Rob asked as he stood standing by the open door.

Looking around the room, George smirked.

"So, this is the humble abode of the great Chef Rob Anderson. Not so much to look at is it Rob?"

Peeking out the door, Rob looked back down the hall to see if George was alone. Closing the door, he locked it quickly. George removed his jacket; carefully folding it, he draped it over a nearby chair.

"Don't worry Rob. I came alone. I think it's time you and I have a serious talk about your future."

Eyeing the old recliner, George brushed off the dusty seat with his hand before he sat down. Still reeling over his incident with Sandra, Rob threw caution to the wind and decided to entertain George's intrusion.

"That seems to be an unavoidable topic tonight," Rob said, walking to the kitchen. "What the hell, lets hear what you have to say,"

"Would you like a drink? I can only offer you a beer, or maybe I have some cider left," Rob asked as he stood staring at George.

"Thank you but no," George replied.

Rob shrugged as he opened the fridge. "Suit yourself, I am having another beer. If you would like one fine, if not, I couldn't care less."

Popping the top off another ale, Rob fell back on the sofa with a thump.

"So, what do you want?" he asked as he took a swig off the bottle.

George crossed his legs as he sat back in the chair.

"Rob, you and I have a real problem. I intend to resolve this issue tonight. I must admit my initial reaction was... well, let's say, a regrettable overreaction. I realize now I cannot force an honest man like you to bend to my desires. Therefore please accept my apology in regard to my unfortunate action."

Nodding with a shrug, Rob stared at the brown bottle cold and silent as George paused.

"Rob I will skip to the chase, I have an offer to make you, then I will leave you to your solitude and your... beverages."

Rob looked up at him with eyes locked as he tipped his bottle to his lips again.

"Rob you are the shining star in The Ship's kitchen. Behind the line, the food you create is loved more than you may know. You didn't just make The Ship popular, you are The Ship. I don't want to discourage that talent. In fact, I want to encourage it."

Curious now, Rob began to relax as George made his proposal.

"Here is my offer. You give me the video you recorded of Charley and I... In return, I will give you a raise, full control of the menu, the staff and the day-to-day operation of The Good Ship. It's that simple."

George sat back in the chair, as if to study Rob's reaction. Feigning a smile, Rob tipped the bottle back to his lips. Sipping his drink, he watched George's eyes. He saw nothing but calm confidence.

"Well George, that's real interesting. But the problem is, you don't have a say about what goes on, or who goes and who stays on The Ship. You seem to be writing checks, you can't cash," Rob replied, sitting back, sipping his drink again as he waited for George's reaction.

Rather than replying, George took his jacket off the nearby chair. Reaching into the inside pocket, he removed a manila envelope. Opening it, he took out a stack of papers, tossing them to the coffee table. Rob watched as he stole another nervous swig from the bottle. George seemed pleased as he sat back into his chair, crossing his legs again.

Taking the papers off the table, Rob scanned them. His face turned pale as he read. Fumbling through the pages, his fingers began to shake. Looking up with eyes wide, he shook the papers in front of him as he shouted at George.

"This can't be true. You bought The Ship? Ralph would never sell out. He loves that place, he needs that place!"

George smiled as he replied.

"All true. Ralph did love that grand ship. Problem is, Ralph also loved the Ship's pretty young hostesses as well. Ralph's wife would love nothing more than to sue his socks off in divorce court, if she was to learn about Ralph's extracurricular activities with those naive young girls. So, I gave Ralph a fair offer to sell The Ship to me at a tidy profit and keep his finances intact... Or refuse and lose The Ship in a nasty divorce settlement. You can see by that contract he signed today which way he chose. I think it's more than a fair profit. I even arranged to deposit his funds into a perfectly legal ironclad trust. From this day on, Ralph will never fear losing his wealth in a divorce suit, should one be eminent in the future. All that is left, is for you to agree to my terms, and then everyone will be happy."

Studying Rob's eyes, George sat back in the chair, waiting for his response. Rob read the papers over again slowly. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Ship was actually George's now. The sudden realization rattled him. Then, he remembered he wouldn't be working there anyway, due to his incident with Sandra just moments ago.

Smiling over this sudden revelation, Rob tossed the papers on the coffee table with a laugh.

"Well, George, I hate to disappoint you, but I really don't give two shits anymore."

George's sly smile disappeared.

"How is that Rob? I know you value your position as Chef, why would you suddenly act as if you did not care?" George asked with a hint of anger.

Sitting back, Rob took a deep swig off the beer.

"I won't be working at The Ship anymore, not after tonight, not even if I wanted to. Sandra will likely never work with me again and I'm not going into the reasons why with you. You are a few minutes too late to have me worried about my job on The Ship. So you can do with it whatever you like. Like I said, I don't really care anymore. Besides, I have something else more important I have to do."

Rob sat back with a certain satisfaction. He had trumped George's hand and it had him beaming with pride. George sighed as he reached into his jacket pocket again.

"So you won't be coming to work anymore? You mean, because of this reason?"

Holding out his phone, he touched the screen. Rob sat curious as the video played before his eyes.

"Remember how great it felt the last time you were in me?" the voice on the phone said.

Sitting up in shock, Rob saw Sandra's half naked body between his legs on the screen. His bottle fell foaming to the floor as his grip suddenly let loose.

"What the hell!" Rob cried out, standing up, yanking the phone from George's hand.

"Watch the other video as well. You'll see a nice scene of you and Charley. I have a feeling your lovely Ellen would cry a river if she saw what you have been up to recently. Does she know what you have been doing the past two days? Two naked women in your apartment... Her co-workers no less. How could you ever explain that?"

Holding the phone close, Rob watched as Sandra knelt between his knees and stripped. He could see her naked body plainly in the dim light.

"You son of a bitch! I didn't have sex with Sandra because of my feelings for Ellen! That's what got me into this mess to begin with..."

Throwing the phone at George in a fit of furious anger, Rob leaped over the coffee table, grabbing him by the throat. Knocking over the recliner, the two fell to the floor. Rob was on top of him now, choking George as he screamed at the top of his lungs

"You bastard! I will kill you if you ruin my future with Ellen! Kill you right here! Do you understand that?"

George patted Rob on the back, forcing a smile on his strained face. Rob let go of his grip and stood towering over him, his fists shaking in violent anger.

Rising casually to his feet, George brushed off his clothes and sat back in the chair.

"Now Rob, calm down. You're not playing fair. You took my fate in your hands with your secret video. I have merely matched your indiscretion."

Rob stood silently fuming.

"I only did that because no one is allowed on The Ship after closing, nor allowed to be drinking in the open when we are closed, let alone having sex on dining tables. If I was to tell Sandra, and she confronted Charley, she would deny it. I didn't care about you, I just needed proof Charley broke the rules."

George cocked his head and waved his upturned hand as if to say "Oh well."

With a mere split second of thought, Rob realized George was right. George stood up, walking over to the table lamp. Reaching under the shade, he pulled out a tiny camera, holding it out in Rob's view for a moment. Laughing, he tucked it into his pocket.

Sitting back in the recliner, George sighed and leaned forward, looking at Rob calmly.

"Look Rob, we can be friends or we can engage one another to a very bitter end. I prefer to be friends. I am coming to respect you. I wish only to promote you. Give me the video and tomorrow you are Captain of The Ship. In addition, as a gesture of condolence for our unfortunate incident, I will raise your salary by 50% starting tomorrow. Or, refuse me and make an enemy you do not want. The choice is yours Rob Anderson. I only offer this once, when I leave here there will be no second chances for us to be friends."

Still breathing hard, Rob stared at him. His heart was racing. His hands still clenched in fists. George sat quietly, brushing lint off his pants as he waited for Rob's decision. Pacing the apartment carpet in thought, Rob considered what to do.

"If Ellen sees that video she will never understand. She will never believe me, or even speak to me again. I have no job to lose anyway but I do have Ellen to lose... If George ruins my chances of finding her I would kill him. I really would kill him... wouldn't I? What then? Prison, or perhaps murder by George's henchman? Do I really I have a choice here? This guy is a wild card. I don't even know who he really is for Christ's sake. Damn! I should have never made that stupid video. What was I thinking? Stupid Charley, this is all her fault."

Pacing as the terrible realities raged through his mind, Rob needed relief. Flinging open the refrigerator door he took out another bottle. Throwing the top across the room, he chugged half of it down fast as he sat on the couch facing George.

"What about Sandra? She hates me now," Rob said as he sat down.

George crossed his hands on his lap and nodded.

"She will be dismissed."

Rob shook his head.

"No! I don't want to cause her harm. I just can't work with her anymore."

George laughed.

"That's what I love about you Rob. You really do care about the unimportant people don't you? Very well, here's what I will do. I will make a call to very wealthy friend. Tomorrow, Sandra will get a call from Caribbean Cruise Line International. She will be offered a general manager position in one of their fine dining restaurants. I will see to it she is paid double her current salary, full benefits included. She will enjoy free luxury accommodations onboard as well. It will be a dream come true for her. She will travel the world on a fine vessel, enjoying a lifestyle she would have otherwise never obtained. I guarantee that to you Rob."

Rob thought about it as he sipped his beer. He realized that would be an amazing opportunity for Sandra. Awesome money and she would have a great time seeing the world. It would be a career unlike any she had ever imagined.

"Okay, I can live with that, but there is one more thing."

George studied him as he spoke.

"Did you have anything to do with Ellen's disappearance?"

George shook his head. "I did not," he replied.

"Fine. Then I want you to help me find her. She has just vanished. I know she doesn't have much money. Her apartment looks like something bad happened there. I have not been able to reach her or find out anything about where she went. Will you find her and bring her back here, if she's willing. But either way, I want to know where she is, and that she is safe."

Shaking his head with a laugh, George replied, "Agreed."

George's one word reply somehow sent a satisfying sigh of relief through Rob's soul. For the first time since Ellen vanished, Rob felt a peace. He had no idea why, but somehow, he felt certain George was capable of finding her. Besides, it seemed his only option.

George held out his manicured hand. Rob paused... then gave in to the offer and the hand George was extending to him. As the two shook on the deal, George patted Rob's back hard.

"It's a deal my friend. I will find your Ellen. I give you my word. Now, please give me the video and I will expect to see you on The Ship bright and early. You have an exciting new menu to plan you know."

Taking his phone from the kitchen, Rob handed it to George.

"There are no other copies of this?" George asked.

Rob shook his head. "No. I've never even watched it. I didn't even tell Sandra about it yet."

George nodded as he offered the phone back. "Very well. I will trust that you are not lying to me. I look forward to seeing what exciting creations your new menu will bring to The Ship. I can't wait to taste each and every one for myself. Think of this as the beginning of a profitable relationship between you and I. Tonight, we have agreed to trust one another. If our mutual trust grows, someday you may find yourself on my exclusive short list of friends. That is a very desirable thing Mr. Anderson I assure you."

George took his jacket off the chair and nodded at Rob with a wave as he walked out the door. Falling back on the couch, Rob tried to get a grasp on what he had just done.

"Did I just make deal with the Devil? Did fate just shine on my future? Or did Satan just steal my soul?"

He couldn't decide. All he knew was that he did what he felt he had to do, to get Ellen back in his life. His mind had been consumed by nothing other than horrible worry of what had happened to her. He knew once she was home, once she was safe with him again, he would take her and run from this city. Run from George and The Ship and anything that could ever come between them again. Run away with her to safety and the promise of a new life somewhere far away, anywhere.

But until that day came, he would have to play George's game. George was holding all the cards. Like it or not, Rob knew he had no option but to accept his fate in order to be reunited with her again. His Deal with the Devil had been done. There was no turning back now. Sinking back on the sofa, he ran his hands through his hair as he sighed deeply.

"Where in the world did you go Ellen? And where will we go when I find you?"

Imagining seeing her smiling face again, he realized he didn't even care where they would go, just as long as they would be together. As he thought about his sudden twist of fate, he wondered about George.

"Who the hell is this guy? Can he really find Ellen? I don't even know... But right now, all I do know, is that he is my only hope."

Swallowing his last swig from the bottle, he realized all he had left was hope. Hope and blind faith. Faith in a mysterious man that was either simply a well-connected wealthy businessman, or a well disguised devil. He had no control over his fate now. His deal had been done. Now, he could only wait... Wait, work and discover which one George would turn out to be.

Looking around his untidy room, he thought back to Ellen's apartment. Jumping up, he gathered his things as quickly as he could.

"I should go wait for her. Maybe she will come back and we can get the hell out of here."

Jumping in a cab, he sped to Ellen's. Calling up to Emmet, Rob asked him to buzz him in. Twisting the knob, Rob hoped again he would find her inside and end this mystery. The same trashed room was all he found. Helping himself to a drink from the fridge, he opened the bottle. Standing in the kitchen, he decided he would stay there, in case she returned.

"I might as well clean up while I wait I suppose," he thought as he began to stack dishes into the sink.

After washing the dishes, he began to sort through the mess and gather the trash. Throwing away paper plates and food wrappers off the counter, he saw it. The big FedEx letter he had overlooked the last time he was there was staring at him from the counter like a giant white cardboard sign.

"She has been here! And she left a note. That wasn't here before.... Was it?" he wondered but couldn't be sure. Setting his drink down, he picked up the cardboard and read the words with great interest.

"Rob,

If you are reading this then maybe you still care about me. I am leaving to find my sister. After I find her, I will hopefully convince her to come back with me. I've wanted so badly, for so long for us to be together, but it always seemed like such an impossible dream. Unexpectedly, when you came over that night... I began to think it actually could happen. You have no idea how happy that made me. I went to see you, to apologize for my stupid freak out in bed. I saw Charley naked in your kitchen. I realize I can never compare to a girl as pretty as her. It's the story of my lonely life. I don't blame you for wanting to have sex with her over me. I was foolish to think I had a real chance at love with you. Now I know that was just an impossible dream. Don't worry about me, or try to find me. I won't answer your calls for now. But, I still have such powerful feelings for you. If only I had shown you, maybe, somehow, things would be different.

Ellen."

Feeling a sick feeling of dread fill him, Rob read the words again with worry.

"What the hell! She saw Charley? But I didn't even... Jesus! I hate that fucking Charley."

He read the note again in sadness for Ellen's hurt feelings.

"Ellen... I would never be with that stupid bitch!" he cried out loud as he threw the envelope on the counter.

Taking his drink, he slumped to her worn sofa.

Looking around at her possessions, he wondered what kind of terrible madness he had inflicted on her.

"I can't imagine what she thinks about me now. After that terrible incident with her in bed... Then she comes to talk to me and sees Charley in my apartment... and naked no less. She must think I am the biggest dick in the world. I'll be lucky if she will ever see me again."

Taking a big drink from the bottle, he cried out loud.

"Son of a bitch... God damn you Charley! This is all your fault!" he yelled.

Sitting in sadness, regret and wonder, he realized it really wasn't Charley's fault, but his own.

"I should have never left her... I should have stayed here with her. We would both be here together right now. Now she's ran off upset, to god only knows where."

He could do nothing but wait. He would wait until his shift.

"Perhaps she will come back... Maybe I will find her and get us out of this horrible mess of bullshit."

Curling up in Ellen's bed, he fell asleep, hoping she would be there when he woke. But Ellen never returned.

As dawn broke over Newport, Rob awoke, hoping Ellen would be back at home. But there was still no sign of her. Knowing he would have to put his hopes aside, he showered and headed to work. Walking up the gangplank, a crowd was gathered on the landing.

"What's up guys? Is the door locked or something?" Rob asked Miguel.

"Sí, Sandra isn't here yet amigo. Did The Ship close or something?" Miguel asked.

The crew watched Rob anxiously for an answer.

"Hell no it didn't!" Rob replied as he fumbled for his key.

Turning the lock, he realized George had already made good on his promise. Sandra was gone. Rob really was Captain of The Good Ship now. Walking in, he began his duties with a sinking feeling. It was the same tasks as before, but now he felt completely void of enthusiasm. Strange vibrations filled him with bad nervousness.

George walked in with Charley at his side. Rob stopped working, looking at them from behind the line.

"Chef Rob! I am so glad to see you. Are you ready to Captain The Good Ship into a brighter future?" George asked with arms outstretched from his sides.

Rob nodded with a fake smile. It was the promotion he always dreamed of, but now it gave him no excitement whatsoever.

"Why do you look so down?" George asked. "You should be elated to have such a fine venue to run as your own. Now you are truly at the helm. The entire Ship is at your command, a position any Chef would envy."

Rob forced a smile again. George stepped close, slapping Rob's back.

"Be happy, and stand proud Chef Rob," he said smiling. "Today is a Brand New Day in your life."

The words gave him no comfort. But the deal had been made. Ellen still weighed heavy on his mind, and now Sandra too.

"Where were they?" he wondered.

Looking at George's smiling face, he couldn't help but worry. Things had changed so quickly he couldn't even get a grip on his thoughts.

"Yep, it's a new day alright," was the only reply he could manage. His thoughts told another tale. George knew from his tone Rob was not pleased.

"Rob," George said in a low voice. "You are here to do your best work. Think only of that for now. News of your Ellen will come. Until then, revel in your new position."

Rob knew he was right. As much as he had initially hated George, his words were true. With a genuine smile and a nod, Rob returned to his duties.

Setting out the ingredients for the day, Rob and Miguel shared a silent glance. He wondered what tomorrow would bring and what fate was to befall Ellen. Worry and dread filled him through. Something big was about to happen. Something powerful. He could feel it coming.

"But what?" he wondered.

All he could do now was work, wonder, worry and wait.

Continued in Book 2 – Coming Together

If you enjoyed this book (or even if not) please post a review and share your thoughts about the work. If you really enjoyed this book, there are more books in the series. The author truly thanks you for reading.

More Brand New Day Series Books

Brand New Day:

Book 1 – Falling Apart

Book 2 – Coming Together

Book 3 – Square One

Book 4 – Trial By Fire

Book 5 – Ties That Bind

Book 6 – New Horizons

Author Bio

From the beaches to the mountain tops, Wren Rogers has traveled much of the country eating, drinking, cooking, bartending and writing. He currently lives, works and writes in Cincinnati Ohio. Cincy residents may be familiar with his work from his six year tenor as a featured writer for Cincy Vibe Magazine.

While currently residing in Cincinnati near to family, Wren often longs to permanently move back to the city he considers the "Best Damn Place to Live in the US"... Las Vegas Nevada.

"Of all the cities I've spent any amount of time in, Vegas is by far the very best (all things considered). If money was no object, certain cities in California come close. However, considering the lifestyle and cost of living, Vegas trumps the rest for me. Vegas is still the only city that enjoys a weekly calendar of all Saturdays. There simply are no weekdays there (and they have no idea what a sleepy Sunday afternoon or a dreadfully boring Monday night is). I dream near daily of a triumphant final return, yet still I live in the sharpest contrast to that wonderful desert town, cloudy Cincinnati.

Cincinnati doesn't offer even a fraction of the food, music, entertainment, beauty or sunshine of Vegas, but it does have a few interesting characters and handful of hidden food gems. If you spend as many years here as I have, and you have the gumption to dig in the grime, you will discover them all eventually. As far as the music, entertainment, beauty and sunshine... you needn't bother attempting to compare as there isn't any comparison to speak of. I know this well as over five years of my life was dedicated to discovering and writing about the music and food scene in and around Porkopolis. I've run the gamut of the cities diamonds and dives more times than I ever care to do again.

Writing magazine articles was a challenge compared to writing a novel. I had to spell out enough vivid detail to provide the reader with a total encompassing picture, yet keep it super-short and simple. Writing, cutting, reading, then cutting more, then finding ways to eliminate a few more words was standard with every issue. When you have a fixed number of characters to write in, things get tense quick. I learned to crop and trim every syllable possible, yet keep the power of the sentence intact. I learned to like it too. That short and sweet writing style has carried over into my novel series.

I prefer "Plain Speak" to poetic adjective laden prose. I prefer real life plot lines to fantastic impossible scenarios. I prefer stories about real people rather than zombies, vampires, superheroes or any other such imaginary character. I watch and read documentary's almost exclusively. To me, the most interesting stories are about the weird, the strange and the unlikely. The downtrodden that against all odds manage to rise up. The little people that either made good, or are still trying. Not to mention the ones that gave up and went criminal. I'm more interested in what's cooking in the darkest corner of the most forgotten alley than I am about the newest burrito joint to occupy Downtown Main Street. I'd much rather listen to a local band than ever tune in to a top 40 artist. I'm a hopeless romantic happily rooting for the plain ole' hopeless.

The Brand New Day series is my debut fiction work. Don't let the category of "fiction" fool you. The BND series is one perspective of Cincinnati life many locals will find just a little-too-true to be dismissed as pure fiction. I based nearly all of the characters on real people. The streets and settings are mostly real as well. Even the descriptions of the food, businesses, landscapes and weather are accurate. I took great care to make the series factual as possible. You may be wondering... "Is there really a George, Rob and Ellen?" "Did these things really take place?" All I can say is, Yes. And No. Some did, some are a stretch of imagination. However, by percentage, more than less is entirely true.

In fact, all of the fiction I write could be loosely called "semi-documentary". I imagine it always will be. I can't wait to see what new novel series unfolds under my fingers when I finally decide to write a second work set in the greatest city that ever glimmered under a US sky... Las Vegas. There's little need for fiction when writing about the people, chefs, bartenders, dealers, cabbies, crazies, comics and adventures that run rampant throughout that town. Of course I'd have to be there again to really dig deep and discover the details to get a story worth writing.

Writing the BND series took two hard years. Every evening from 6-midnight and every weekend from morning until dawn was spent on this work. To merit that effort on a second work, this first series must show promise and that isn't easy for a no-name self-published author bobbing in a sea of ebooks that multiplies in swells daily.

My only hope is that the people who do bother to read my work will leave a review to attract others. Since reviews are basically all that can push a no-name little guy like me anywhere near the top, it's all I can hope for. Considering that only my readers can leave reviews, in a very real sense, my entire literary future is in your hands... Now isn't that some shit?
