Sugar and Spice

Mystery Bus Tour: Mallory

The air in the restaurant didn’t just feel humid; it felt pressurized. My skin was still tender from the sun, and every time the fabric of my uniform shifted, I was reminded of the marsh, the stilt house, and the blurred lines. Today though, Geri wasn’t looking for a person. She was looking for a machine.

“Listen up!” Geri shouted over the sound of the espresso machine as it hissed to life. “The local senior center decided today was a good day for a mystery bus tour. Fifty people. Ten minutes out. The hosts are setting up the dining room, we’re putting together two long tables, twenty-five each.”

She pointed her clipboard at me, then at Jay. “Mallory, you’ll take the left, Jay, the right. Coordinate with each other. It’s one check. Put your entrees in at the same time. The rest of you, help them out. If you’re walking through the dining room and see an empty glass, refill it. Understand?”

There was a synchronized ‘understood’ and a wave of nods from the staff.

“Coordinate. Got it,” Jay added, flashing me a look that was far from professional.

We moved into the dining room, placing disposable coasters, straws, and bread plates on the table in preparation of the fifty-top. Each guest would have an option of salad or soup, so we couldn’t do anything about that yet, but that didn’t stop Jay from carrying out a tray full of bread baskets and sat them strategically on the tables.

“You okay?” he whispered as he placed a basket on the table in between us. “You look like you’re bracing for impact.”

“Fifty orders all at once, Jay,” I murmured, not looking up. If we mess up our timing, we bottleneck the kitchen.”

“Forget the bottleneck, just tell me when you’re ready to fire the appetizers. It’s one check, we’ll put it under your name. We got this.” He stood up straight and gave me a playful salute, “Formation flying, just like the birds in the marsh.”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips, but I suppressed it as the front doors swung open.

The mystery bus tour poured in like a slow-moving tide. It was a sea of floral shirts, orthopedic shoes, and very specific dietary requirements. Within minutes, the quiet of the morning was replaced by the clatter of canes and the high-pitched demands of fifty people who had been on a bus for three hours.

I pulled out my notepad, but I didn’t feel the usual comfort of the lines. I felt Jay’s presence beside me, a warm, steady weight.

We moved in perfect synchronization. I took an order for a gluten-free Marsala, he took an order for a piccata with extra capers. I refilled a water, he cleared an empty bread basket. Every time I turned to head to the POS system, I’d catch his eye. It was like a dance. One where the steps weren’t written down, but we knew them anyways.

About forty minutes in, the pressure hit the red zone. Seat twelve was a man with a sour expression and a voice like gravel. He snapped his fingers at me, “Miss! This water isn’t cold. I asked for extra ice three minutes ago.”

“I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll get that for you right-“

“I don’t want an apology. I want the ice!” he barked, his voice carrying across the silent table. “You’re not very efficient.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. They were my father’s favorite weapon. I felt the familiar sting in my eyes, and the sudden urge to retreat to hide the shame.

Before I could respond, a silver ice bucket appeared over his shoulder. “Here you go, sir,” Jay said, his voice smooth as silk. His tone was perfectly polite, but it carried an edge that could cut glass. “My partner was just ensuring your meal was being prepared to your exact standards. We wouldn’t want to be inefficient with the quality of your lunch, now, would we?”

He dumped the ice into the glass with a flourish and looked at me. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His eyes said everything: I’ve got you.

I took a breath, the panic receding as quickly as it had come. I finished the round, and as we met back at the POS system, I leaned in close. “Thank you,” I breathed.

“Friction is just a force, Mal,” he whispered back, his shoulder gently bumping mine. “Don’t let it stop the momentum. We’re almost through the break.”

I looked at the chaos in the dining room, then back at Jay. The entrees were almost done, then it was just a matter of keeping drinks refilled. We could do this.

When the bus tour finally shuffled out, clutching their to-go boxes and complaining about the humidity, the dining room felt like a battlefield after a cease fire. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the clatter of dishes echoing from the kitchen. Jay and I stood in the side station, both of us leaning against the counter. The adrenaline was finally ebbing away, leaving me feeling shaken but strangely light.

“That,” Jay started, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, “was a text book case of mass-chaos.”

“We cleared it,” I said, looking down at my notepad. The pages were covered in scribbles, but it was done. The check had been closed. “No errors. No kitchen backups. We actually did it.”

“We did more than that, Mal. We survived the ice cube tyrant of seat twelve.” He turned to face me, his eyes bright. “You handled him like a pro.”

I looked at my feet, feeling a flush that had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. “He sounded just like him, Jay. For a second, I wasn’t at Stella Cucina anymore. I was ten years old, standing in the study, showing a report card with a ninety-eight percent.”

Jay moved closer, and suddenly, the air in the side station felt impossibly thick. He reached out, his fingers grazing the underside of my wrist. My heart was erratic and jumpy. “You aren’t ten anymore,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, grounding register. “And you aren’t a machine. You’re the girl who learned how to ride a wave, and get back up when she falls. That guy? He was just noise.”

I looked up at him. The smell of garlic and expensive pasta was everywhere, and yet I could smell the salt on his skin. “I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to manage the lines.”

Jay didn’t look away. He stepped even closer, bus chest nearly brushing mine. “Look at right now. The bus is gone. The sun is out. And you’ve got fifteen minutes before the lunch shift ends.”

He reached up, his thumb catching a stray piece of hair that had escaped my ponytail. He tucked it behind my ear, his fingers brushing against the side of my face. For a heartbeat, the restaurant disappeared.

“Jay! Mallory!” Geri’s voice cracked like a whip from the kitchen. We sprang apart instantly. I grabbed a stack of menus while Jay picked up a dirty pitcher. “If you two are done congratulating ourselves, I need you to clean your sections.” She paused, her eyes lingering on us longer than made me comfortable. “And Jay? Try to keep your hands on the equipment, not the staff.”

“Copy,” he called back, his voice steady as he turned away from me.