Chapter 2 - The Cold Verdict of David Kesler
The heavy brass service door of Laura Bistro hissed shut behind her, cutting off the deafening sound of the rain.
The hallway smelled of expensive butter, white truffles, and harsh chemical sanitizers.
Naen stood shivering on the industrial rubber matting, leaving a pool of muddy water around her worn shoes.
Her breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps that echoed against the stainless steel walls.
She held her coat tightly closed with both hands, clutching the lapels against her collarbone.
Underneath that coat, her white uniform blouse looked like an abattoir floor.
She darted toward the staff restroom near the dishwashing station, desperate to reach a faucet.
Her hands were stiff and sticky with half-congealed blood.
She shoved the swinging door open, slapped the stainless steel lever, and thrust her hands beneath boiling water.
The water exploded into deep pink swirls across the porcelain basin.
She scrubbed furiously with industrial soap until her skin burned raw and red.
The iron scent refused to leave her pores.
She looked into the spotted mirror above the sink and gasped at her own reflection.
Her face was pasty white, her dark hair was plastered to her temples, and black mascara ran in trails down her cheeks.
“Naen Walker.”
The voice was flat, nasal, and entirely devoid of warmth.
Naen spun around so quickly her wet sneakers slipped on the tiles.
David Kesler stood in the doorway of the breakroom, his arms crossed over an immaculately pressed charcoal suit.
He was thirty-two, thin-lipped, and obsessed with the minor authority granted to him by the restaurant’s unseen board of directors.
He tapped the crystal face of his silver watch with a manicured index finger.
“Five twenty-four.”
“Mr. Kesler, please let me explain.”
Naen’s voice trembled as she reached for a paper towel to dry her trembling hands.
“I don’t pay you to explain.”
Kesler stepped fully into the hallway, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
“The pre-service briefing concluded forty-five minutes ago.”
“Table twelve has been seated for twenty minutes without water service.”
“The senator’s chief of staff is sitting at table four waiting for his vintage Bordeaux.”
“I had an emergency on the way here.”
Naen took a desperate step forward, holding her hands out in supplication.
“A man was attacked in the alley behind Fourth.”
“He was bleeding to death right on the cobblestones.”
“I had to administer pressure until his assistance arrived.”
Kesler’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure skepticism.
“A man in the alley?”
He looked her up and down with open contempt.
“Do you take me for an idiot, Naen?”
“I am telling you the absolute truth, sir.”
“Then why are you clutching your coat like a shoplifter?”
Kesler pointed a sharp finger at her chest.
“Take off the coat and put on your apron.”
“The apron is gone.”
Naen swallowed hard, feeling the cold air scrape her throat.
“I had to use it as a tourniquet to stop his bleeding.”
Kesler let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter.
“You used company property to play street paramedic to a homeless junkie?”
“He was not a junkie!”
“I don't care if he was the Pope!”
Kesler’s voice rose, cutting through the hum of the kitchen exhaust fans.
Several line cooks paused their prep work, glancing nervously toward the back corridor.
“Take off the coat, Naen.”
His voice turned dangerously calm.
“Let me see what you’re hiding under there.”
Naen’s fingers shook violently as she reached for the top button of her coat.
She slowly pulled the damp fabric apart.
The white poplin shirt beneath was soaked with rust-colored handprints and a massive crimson smear across the midriff.
The dried blood was already stiffening the fabric, making it look morbid and grotesque under the fluorescent strip lights.
A young prep cook at the prep table dropped his paring knife with a loud clatter.
Kesler took an involuntary step back, his face twisting into theatrical horror.
“Good God.”
He pulled a monogrammed silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against his nose.
“You walked through my dining facility looking like a slaughterhouse worker.”
“I came through the back service door!”
Naen pleaded, tears finally breaking past her exhaustion.
“I have a spare blouse in my locker.”
“I can wash my face, borrow a clean apron from laundry, and be on the floor in three minutes.”
“Please, Mr. Kesler.”
“My son has an ear infection that has spread to his throat.”
“I need this shift to pay for his prescription tonight.”
Kesler lowered the handkerchief just enough to let his cruel mouth show.
“Do you think our guests pay two hundred dollars a plate to be served by someone carrying biohazard waste?”
“I will change completely!”
“You are completely irresponsible.”
Kesler turned on his heel and walked into his glass-walled office, leaving the door wide open.
Naen followed him to the threshold, her hands clenched into fists.
He sat down at his mahogany desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thin brown envelope.
“You were late twice last month because of your child’s daycare issues.”
“You received a final written warning.”
“Mr. Kesler, please don't do this.”
“You brought blood and contaminated clothing into a Michelin-starred establishment.”
He scribbled his signature across an official termination form with theatrical finality.
“Your employment is terminated effective immediately.”
“Gross misconduct and violation of hygiene protocols.”
“No, please!”
Naen crossed the threshold, her voice breaking into a ragged sob.
“Just deduct my hours for today.”
“Put me on dish duty for the week.”
“I’ll scrub the grease traps every night!”
“Just don’t fire me tonight.”
“Leo needs those antibiotics before morning or his eardrum could rupture.”
Kesler didn't even look up from his paperwork.
He held the brown envelope between two fingers.
“Here is your final check for the hours accrued through last Sunday.”
“Minus seventy-five dollars for the destroyed uniform apron you stole for your street theater.”
Naen reached out with a trembling hand to take the envelope.
Kesler released his grip an inch early.
The envelope fluttered through the air and landed in a puddle of dirty rainwater that had dripped from Naen’s hem onto the floor.
“Pick it up and get off the premises.”
Kesler leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his hands over his stomach.
“If you are still in this building in two minutes, I will call the police and have you arrested for criminal trespass.”
Naen looked at the envelope lying in the puddle.
Then she looked into Kesler’s small, lifeless eyes.
There was no humanity there.
There was only the pathetic pleasure of a weak man wielding tiny power over someone who had none.
She knelt on the wet linoleum, picked up the soaked envelope, and stood up straight.
She did not wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“I hope you never have to watch someone you love suffer while you stand there helpless.”
Kesler sneered and reached for his desk phone.
May you like
“One minute remaining, Walker.”
Naen turned her back on him and walked out into the cold night without looking back.
