The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

The restaurant wasn’t busy, so Qiu washed glasses and plates until she saw customers sit in her section.  From 6:30pm until 10:00pm, her section was the three tables in the northwest corner—tables four, five and six.  After 10pm, she inherited the three tables in the southwest corner, giving her half the restaurant.  The restaurant was oblong with six tables lining the north wall and six tables lining the south wall.  The restaurant had a diner style atmosphere, mixing Classic Americana with touches of the Wild West.  The walls were decorated with dark-stained wood paneling and black-and-white pictures documenting American cultural icons:  the original Flamingo Hotel & Casino; Bonnie Parker posing with cigar in mouth and revolver in hand; the Hollywood Sign; the Welcome to Las Vegas sign; Al Capone’s mug shot and Geronimo.  An American and Republic of China flag hung from the ceiling.  A jukebox, resembling a 50’s era gas pump, stood against the far west wall next to the door opposite the kitchen.  The jukebox had depth, everything from
Buddy Holly
to
Elvis
,
Jimi Hendrix
to
Aerosmith
,
Diana Ross
,
Gladys Knight
,
the Beach Boys
and
Michael Jackson
’s latest solo effort
Off the Wall
.  One thing missing from the jukebox was
the Beatles
.  Mr. Nan argued the restaurant’s American theme, so the British Beatles didn’t make the cut.  He underestimated just how big of an impact
the Beatles
had on an American generation and their offspring.

It was the middle of the week and
87
didn’t get busy until late.  For the first few hours, Qiu severed beer and cocktails to office types coming to grab a drink and conversation after work.  Most were locals and didn’t tip well.  It wasn’t until after 8pm that the Americans started to show.  They were the ones who wouldn’t come out without music.  The jukebox came out of the blocks at full sprint around 8:30.  Patrons had a system of leaving their money or ID on the jukebox to establish who had the next song after the jukebox went silent. 
87
became an entirely different theater when the expats began to show.  Even the employees didn’t feel like they were at work anymore. 

At 10:10pm, Qiu went to the kitchen to check on a cheeseburger with extra sides for Table 2.  A sudden buried feeling came over her, while she stood in the kitchen.  She didn’t know what it was.  Her heart skipped causing stiffness in her chest.  Her thoughts quickly turned from the feeling in her chest to her daughter.  She thought to ask Mr. Nan if she could phone her daughter, but realized she had only been working for six months and Mr. Nan had already done her enough favors.  She told herself everything was fine and promised herself she would be out the door at 2:00am on the dot, returning home to Xiaofeng. 

Qiu went back to work.  She stepped out of the kitchen and back to her tables.  She immediately realized she had gone to the kitchen to check on the order for Table 2.  The Cheeseburger was sitting hot on the counter so she took it out to the middle-aged couple sitting at Table 2.  While at Table 2, she noticed three men enter through the front door and sit at Table 5.  It was now 10:20; tables 1 through 6 all belonged to her.  The three men were all GIs, she could tell by the way they looked, athletic with mechanically short hair.  She could tell by the way they smelled, like outdoors and metal.  She could tell by the way they acted, laughing too much and talking too loud.  They were Americans and Americans tipped.

Qiu walked toward Table 5 and the three men—two white, one black.  She smiled as she walked over, pretending that her mind wasn’t on her daughter.  Her youthful appearance betrayed the fact that her last thirteen years were spent raising her daughter by herself. 

“How are you guys?” she asked.

“We’re good,” said the one with reddish hair.

“Great!  To let you know we run specials for our military guests with our
All Things American
specials.  And all American beers are at domestic prices, just for our military guests,” Qiu had practiced the line so many times, she was bound to get it perfect, this time she did.

“Where are the All-American specials?” asked the one with darkest skin.  His head was clean shaven to the point of no hair.

“They’re on your menus on the reverse side of the front cover,” said Qiu.

“Cool,” he said.

“You guys want to start with something to drink?” asked Qiu.

“Sure,” said the red head, “You boys wanna do a pitcher or what?”

“Yeah, I’m game,” said the third man, his light hazel eyes scanned the room.  Qiu could tell it was his first time to set foot inside.  Most Americans had a surreal experience the first time at
87
.  The experience was the mind being overruled by the senses.  Every detail of
87
mapped out a classic American eatery, even the black and white tiled floor wasn’t Asian.  But no mind could understand how travel from Asia to America could be achieved so quickly.  There was no such technology in 1980.  Even the waitress spoke fluent English, with a thin—not thick—accent.  It was as if she was from Asia but had lived in the States for a long time.

“Where are you from?” asked hazel eyes.

“I’m from the Mainland,” said Qiu.

“Ah, Mainland girl,” said hazel eyes in a deep rolling voice.

“A Mainland girl named Autumn, and I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” said Qiu.  Six months had taught her the wit that earned tips.

“Can we get beer in a pitcher?” asked red head.

“Sure, I can bring it to you in a pitcher or we have bottles or frost mugs,” Qiu made a gesture showing the size of the mugs.

“Yeah, let’s get those,” said shaved head.

“Alright by me,” said hazel eyes.

“Done.  Let’s get three frost mugs of
Bud
,” said red head.

“Do you guys have military ID?” asked Qiu.

“Yeah,” said red head as they all reached for their pockets.  Qiu took a quick look at the IDs, it was impolite to inspect them.

“Ok, I’ll be right back with those and give you guys time to search the menu,” said Qiu with her mind set on a decent tip.  Her thoughts instinctively turned to Xiaofeng.  She spent the rest of the evening delivering hot plates and collecting used ones along with her tips.  A count in her head told her that she had collected around 400 Taiwan dollars.   

The three GIs had finished eating but were still talking at 11:45pm.  The restaurant was mostly clear.  One patron was at the cigarette machine buying cigarettes.  Cigarette pack in hand, he walked past Qiu on her way to the kitchen and left the restaurant.  Qiu went into the kitchen and started to wash dishes.  The remaining employees were all in the kitchen cleaning up.  There were only three of them:  He Qiang, the late shift cook; Chen Weixing, another waitress, and Qui herself.  Mr. Nan usually parted company at a quarter passed 10pm.  Qiu remembered that Table 5 still catered to the three GIs.  She left the kitchen to see if they were ready.

“Can I clear some of these away?” said Qiu referring to the finished plates and empty mugs of beer.

“Yeah we’re done,” said red head.

“What time do you close?” asked shaved head.

“Half past 12,” said Qiu.

“And what time is it now?” asked shaved head.

“12:05,” said Qiu, “Do you guys want a last call?”

“Yeah, we’ll stay for one more,” said red head.

“Ok,” said Qiu, “I’ll bring you new glasses.”

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you,” said red head, “We had something to ask you.”

“What’s that?” asked Qiu.

“Are there any places to hang out late around here?” asked red head.

“There are a few clubs and bars, if you head straight down here toward
Blue Cherry Hotel
, there’s even a disco in the hotel,” said Qiu gathering plates in her arms.

“We’re headed out later if you want to come with us,” said red head.

“That’s nice of you, but I have to close up tonight then go home,” said Qiu.

“You’ve been working hard all day,” said shaved head, “You deserve some fun.”

“Still working,” said Qiu, as she headed toward the kitchen.  She set the plates down on the kitchen counter and headed back out to the bar to fill three mugs.

Qiu took the mugs to the three men still in their seats at Table 5.  She set the mugs on the table and slid their bill toward the middle of the table.

“You sure you don’t wanna come party with us?” asked red head, grabbing her wrist in the middle of the table.  Qiu folded her bottom lip and looked red head in the eye and shook her head.  She had learned tacit gestures worked well with drunk patrons.  The alcohol amplified the light and muffled the sound, making their eyes work better than their ears.

“But I do want you guys to get home safely, is one of you OK to drive?” asked Qiu, collecting empty mugs in her hands.

“We’re all OK,” said red head “Don’t worry about us we’re big boys, and you’ve been the best waitress we’ve ever had so we’re gonna give you a big tip.”

Red head pulled out two US fifty dollar bills and put them on the table.

“Ta-da!” he said.

Qiu was feeling like the butt of a joke.  She grabbed the dollar bills, knowing she could exchange them to cover the tab and have a large tip left over. 

“Thanks guys,” she said turning away.

“No that was yours, we were gonna pay the bill separately,” said shaved head.

“Don’t worry about it, you guys just save the money for the party later,” said Qiu.

“If you say so,” said shaved head.

Qiu gave a slight smile and headed back toward the kitchen, her arms full of used mugs.  She put the receipt on a large spike with the rest of the receipts from customers.  She slashed it with a red marker, letting Mr. Nan know the money for the receipt wasn’t in the register.  She would go to the bank and exchange the US bills to cover the receipt the next day.

Seeing how many plates and glasses remained to be washed, Qiu joined Chen Weixing by the sink.  He Qiang, the cook, had already turned off the stove and made his way outside the kitchen with the broom.  He swept behind the bar first, to put any remaining customers on notice that he was heading their way next.  The three men at Table 5 were the only customers left.  Taking their cue, the three men bottomed-up their glasses and exited in an orderly fashion without any hesitation. The last one out the door was the one with hazel eyes, he turned his head back toward the kitchen door for an immediate glance, before exiting with the other two.

He Qiang proceeded to the front door after them and used the key in his pocket to lock it.  He then started at the front of the restaurant, sweeping the floor with broad strokes.  He turned chairs upside down on tables to get a better angle to sweep.  He made a big pile of dirt, dust and detachments in the center of the floor.  He continued to sweep as he noticed Qiu bring a large plastic trash can toward him.  Realizing that they must be about done in the kitchen, he proceeded to collect the trash into a dustpan that was left on the floor next to the trash can.  He Qiang left the main dining area with a clean swept floor and no chairs touching it.  He didn’t do any mopping; mopping was for those opening not closing.  The three remaining staffers all met in the kitchen to see what was left to be done.  Qiu found herself mopping the kitchen floor, while Chen Weixing stood on the counter top to clean the top of the stove and the exhaust fan.  He Qiang cleaned around the stove and arranged the tongs and utensils.  At 1:50am, they were all but done with the cleaning duties.  They chit-chatted for a bit so they could all clock-out at 2:00am.  As the three of them were heading for the rear exit, Qiu realized that out of respect for Mr. Nan, she wanted to leave a note as to why the register was short on cash from one of her tables.  She told He Qiang and Chen Weixing they didn’t have to wait for her.  She went back into the kitchen and tore off an unused receipt from the booklet.  She went over to the spike of receipts, to find the one that she had marked with red.  She wrote down the receipt number and an explanation that her payment and tip were in US dollars and she would exchange the money and put the correct amount in the register the next day.  She left the note on the counter next to the spike of receipts, where Mr. Nan would see it.  She exited the restaurant through the heavy back door and touched the vanilla light switch to break the circuit.  The lights went off.

She left the door to close and lock on its own.  Leaving the dark kitchen for the half dark back lot of
87
, she saw Mr. Nan’s parking space was wide open and the other scooters were missing from the far side of the dumpster.  The back lot was lit by the mist of the waterfall from the street lamps on the front side of the building.  Qiu looked around and everything stared back at her with a pale amber glow.  She squeezed her way into the thin spaces between the dumpster and the wall and put the key in the ignition to turn on the engine and the light.  The engine woke up without fuss, as the front light of the
Vespa
shined brightly against the wall in front of it.  The light sketched the silhouette of Qiu and her scooter on the wall.  The light against the wall began an unexpected metamorphosis.  It went from the silhouette of Qiu and her scooter to that of a blob that developed into the silhouette of a man.  The bright light from the
Vespa
fired against the wall and came back at Qiu then bounced off her body. The rubbery light beamed back to the wall, leaving a silhouette of her body.  The other silhouette was another body and it was noticeably larger than hers.