Il Ricco Restaurant

Piper comes face to face with Grey Lockhart for the first ever time. He's gorgeous, no one on the face of this planet can deny that. But is his cocky attitude really living up to tremendous expectation. Piper's automatic crush on him soon will be a pile o

 

Chapter One

 

If you're a guest the doormen open the large, elegant, wooden doors for you with a polite smile on their faces. If you're just a measly employee you're never ever greeted by friendly doormen. You enter through the staff entrance and change in the small restroom, strictly for staff use; you're never allowed to roam to the guest restroom, the restroom for all the wealthy diners served nightly. Lavish extremities that the middle class, or perhaps even lower than that, are not deserving of.

 

 

That's how it is every single day at Il Ricco, an authentic Italian restaurant that caters to the rich and the famous.

 

 

Piper Wolfe is employed there and she loathes it. With her mother being such a heavy drinker Piper has to rely on the salary she makes from her two jobs; one cleaning up an already spotless house, the only hassle there being her employer's sarcastic, but undeniably cute nephew, Tru, who for reasons unbeknownst to Piper has been staying over at his aunt's house for about two weeks now.

 

 

It aggravates Piper when she's doing her chores, chores that she will bring in fifty dollars an hour for- her employer is extremely generous with her money- that Tru follows after her, offering to help her out or asking her retarded questions just to get on her nerves.

 

 

Then her second job, waitress at Il Ricco Restaurant, the ultra-expensive Italian restaurant This rakes in considerably more dough than her first job. Piper wonders when something electrifying, as in jaw-droppingly astonishing, will occur.

Piper departs from the public bus and trudges the miles walk to Il Ricco. Her black messenger bag weighs heavy on her bony shoulder. The black messenger bag contains her waitress uniform and her other many feminine necessities.

 

 

When Piper finally arrives at the staff entrance the smirking faces of her co-workers, Luigi and Francesco, real Italians themselves, greet her. They give the diners “the authentic Italian experience”, or at least that is what the manager keeps repeating like some sort of chant.

 

 

Piper enters through the rusting metal door and heads straight for the crappy staff restroom. She skips right past the nine or ten chefs boiling water and preparing for tonight's guests. They all wear those tall white chef's hats and pants decorated with a black and white checkerboard pattern; it matches the floor.

Piper's one and only “friend”, Kimiko, a beautiful girl of Japanese descent, waves at her as she enters the restroom. Piper gives no response, resulting in Kimiko's frown.

 

 

There are but three stalls in the staff restroom. One for the handicapped, even though no one mentally or physically crippled is employed here at Il Ricco. Piper's convinced it's something the restaurant owners were required to construct so that there would be no financial lawsuits later on in the future.

The other two stalls are small and cramped. There's a peculiar odor wafting around them, very far from the wonderful aroma that wafts around the plates of scrumptious food the many chefs prepare nightly.

 

 

On the toilet seat there are yellow drops of urine and one toilet's clogged with excrement. Piper locks the more sanitary stall and pinches her nose together with her fingers to reduce the amount of stench she has to inhale. She slips out of her jeans and T-shirt and into the required uniform: a white button-down blouse, a black pencil skirt, and a black apron with pockets for carrying a pad of paper to scribble down orders. As is required she ties her dark brown hair up into a sloppily made bun.

 

 

Piper then slips on a pair of black low-heeled shoes and gazes at her image in the grimy mirror. A well-dressed woman stares back at her; prepared to take on any obstacle that may present it.

She zips her messenger bag back up and leaves the awful stench of the restroom, breathing in a breath of fresh air the moment she exits the stalls.

 

 

The chefs are working busily, frying this or that, wiping up this or that little mess. The dishwasher is scraping the remains of indistinguishable foods into the garbage disposal.

 

 

Kimiko sidles up into Piper's way, allowing her no escape from the onslaught of bubbly questions that pour like word vomit from her lip-glossed, sparkly mouth.

 

 

“Hi, Piper. You missed work last week. I called your cell to see what the matter was, but I only got your voicemail,” she says at lightning speed, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

 

 

“Um, yeah, I got your messages. Sorry I couldn't get back to you.” Piper apologizes without meaning a word of it at all.

 

 

“It's all right, Piper. I figured you were busy or something. So what were you up to?” she asks, playing with her black strands of perfectly straight hair, practically the only thing Piper envies her, other than her awesome beauty.

 

 

“I had stuff to do, people to see, you know.” Piper replies.

 

 

Kimiko nods her head up and down, acting like she completely understands when it's perfectly obvious that she doesn't. Kimiko is always doing that. Piper can't comprehend the reason behind her strange infatuation with her. It slightly resembles the way a girl crushes on a boy. But Piper knows that Kimiko is convinced that she's practically the coolest girl around, when Piper knows that she's far from it. Also, Kimiko has a boyfriend she is deeply and madly in love with. All Kimiko talks about (other than going on and on about how she and Piper should have a girls' night out, that is) are that boyfriend of hers.

 

 

“Well, Kimiko, We should be getting to work right about now.” Piper says, hoping to escape from this not so pleasant exchange.

 

 

“Yeah, you are absolutely right!” she replies, peering up at the clock hung up precariously on the gray and chipped wall.

 

 

Kimiko adjusts her apron and places her notepad in determinedly with a huge grin revealing her shiny, white, perfectly straight teeth.

 

 

She marches away, still grinning. Piper remains where she is, rolling her eyes at Kimiko's blatant innocence and good and kind nature. She'll be the nice old lady feeding the pigeons, Piper thinks.

 

 

Eventually Piper gets her butt in gear and follows all the other waiters and waitresses to the main dining room where each and every one of them is supposed to wait around for customers to just show up. Which eventually they always will arrive, because a night never goes by when Il Ricco doesn't receive a full house. A full house filled with nothing but arrogant, superficial, wealthy freaks, Piper thinks viciously as she curls her hand into a tight fist.

 

 

Just the waiters and waitresses make up about thirty staff members. Add in the kitchen staff and you've got well over one hundred. The awesome amount of teamwork it takes to run a restaurant this big is something mind-boggling. But teamwork for Piper is never a simple thing. She's not a people person. Conversation comes difficult and friends even more so.

Piper makes a cursory glance across the dining room for no particular reason other than just taking in the restaurant scene. The overly ornate golden chandelier hangs in the center, with actual flame candles, not the fake ones most restaurants use. Its bright illumination is enough for the whole area of the restaurant but still sconces are placed along the walls to add their own unnecessary illumination as well.

 

 

In the very center of the dining room is a large wooden dining table, polished to an unnatural gleam. It is completely set up, golden cutlery placed in their correct stations, plates in the center of each setting. It is a rather large dining table and Piper wonders if the rather large, wealthy Italian family that frequents Il Ricco has reserved it for tonight. Piper thinks it funny that a wealthy Italian family should visit an Italian restaurant that's name, if translated from Italian into English, means The Wealthy.

 

 

Man, Piper thinks to herself, wealthy scumbags get to eat at five star joints when people like me, even if they work at said five star joint, enjoy the complex delicacies of Burger King.

 

 

Across from her Kimiko is texting her boyfriend, laughing hysterically when his text appears hilarious to her. Piper simply rolls her eyes at Kimiko, something she employs her eyes to do much too often these days.

 

 

But Kimiko is worth every single eye roll, decides Piper.

 

 

The serious, self-loathing, sadistic manager, Fabrizio Rizzi, walks into the crowd of waiters and waitresses. He sends little waitresses home crying with his evil eye.

 

 

Fabrizio snatches Kimiko's Sidekick from her speedily texting fingers. Her mouth is hanging open wide and her eyes are bugging out from their dear little eye sockets.

 

 

Piper can't help but feel a tad sorry for her. If Fabrizio were any meaner to Kimiko, who is always perfectly innocent, than Piper would have no choice but to stand up for a girl who would never have the guts to do it herself. But she knows Fabrizio won't take it too far; Kimiko's one of the best he's got.

 

“Ah, Kimiko! You know that texting is strictly prohibited during restaurant hours! I thought you, Kimiko, being one of the hardest working waitresses employed on my staff, would know better. But it's evident that you do not. So I have no choice but to apprehend it till the restaurant closes. You can pick it up then!” he explains in his thickly accented English.

 

He then struts away, holding her cell phone away from his person as if it were a dirty diaper belonging to an infant, the whole time muttering:

 

“Gesu Cristo! To think that are brilliant owners would have such an idea. Assumiamo degli adolescenti! Yes, let's hire teenagers, what a bright idea!”

 

 Kimiko remains exactly the same, frozen in the same position, immobile. Piper has no choice but to comfort her.

 

“It's all right, Kimiko. Everyone knows that Fabrizio is an a*****e, jerk!” Piper corrects herself when she remembers the fact that Kimiko detests foul language being spoken around her.

 

“Piper, that doesn't matter today.” she says, holding her hand out, “Bad language, who cares!”

 

“Oh, Kimiko, it's all right. I've been reprimanded by Fabrizio so many times that I've learned not to give a s**t!” Piper checks to make sure that Kimiko's fine with the word s**t, turns out she is by her smile, “You have to build up a wall and let it fly right back at him.”

 

“Oh, thank you so much, Piper. You really are a good friend!” Kimiko exclaims, embracing Piper tightly.

 

 

Piper's eyes bug a bit, but she's okay with this show of emotion. Her ears then pick up the irritating noise of a car horn being pushed repeatedly. Kimiko wipes the tears from her cheeks and follows Piper to the restaurant doors to see what all the noise is about.

 

 

A large Hummer Limo rumbles on the cobblestone drive of Il Ricco, the horn still blaring ear piercingly loud. Kimiko covers her ears with her petite little hands. Piper just grows even more irritated. All at once the horn ceases its blaring and the driver's door opens, the driver emerging to open the rest of the doors.

 

Once the back doors are opened a group of about nine or ten young, more than good looking teenagers emerge, one particularly handsome boy leading the whole entire group.

 

His skin is snow white, as if it hasn't ever seen the sun. His hair is black and spiky, shooting at the air from all angles, a faint purple glow, or highlights, glazing it. His eyes are a deep, coffee brown, seeming like they could comprehend and aid you in any problem you might ever have. His ensemble is a whole different matter.

 

You could consider him well dressed, but Goth..you could consider him that as well. Piper's fond of the Goths, she's always thought them mysterious in their ways.

Around his eyes he has heavily applied black eyeliner and eyeshadow, brightening up his coffee brown eyes, making them more extraordinary than they would be regardless. He wears a black tuxedo with a bow tie, not something you'd usually expect a Goth to wear, but he works it with the utmost class. Underneath the tuxedo jacket he wears a black button down men's dress shirt. His slacks are the same shade of black and his feet are covered up by black leather dress shoes. You can almost see the alligator that had been slaughtered to manufacture those lavish shoes.

 

On top of that entire garb he wears a black cape that whips the air viciously whenever the wind strikes it. Covering his eyebrows is the top hat he sports with pride and then in his stark white hand he clutches a walking stick, completely unnecessary seeing as how he isn't injured in any way.

 

Piper memorizes everything about him, she practically tattooes it on her brain. For she wishes dearly to have the ability to recall his face when she has returned home and turned the lock on her door to keep out the nightmare that is her mother.

 

Kimiko grabs Piper's hand and clutches it tightly in hers, gasping for air when she's too struck by his otherworldly appearance to breathe. Piper makes sure she's all right before turning her eyes back to the wonder before her.

 

She notes that the group that he leads is all garbed in black as well, all pale, and all gorgeous. But none so much as he, she decides. He seems to be talking with them, his lips brushing together when he utters a word. He gestures with his arm at the restaurant's sign; Il Ricco. He seems to be showing them around.

 

Like a tour guide?

 

Piper is automatically startled. This is not her thought. She wasn't thinking anything about tour guides and then the thought popped into her head, questioning, in an unfamiliar whisper. Piper ignores her superstitious side..

 

She returns her gaze back to him, but he's already entered the establishment. Piper panics, wanting nothing more than to be his server, or something more perhaps. She drags Kimiko inside hurriedly.

 

Once they've entered she spots his group again. The manager himself is seating them and chatting animatedly, with a smile on his ratty face even.

 

“Piper, do you even know who he is?” Kimiko hisses.

 

“Not a clue.” Piper responds, transfixed.

 

“Grey! You don't have a clue who Grey is?” Kimiko asks incredulously.

 

Piper shakes her head from left to right slowly, eyes glued to Grey's still gesturing figure.

 

“He's the lead singer of practically the most famous band in the whole entire world; Primrose! Don't tell me you've never heard of them!” Kimiko sounds skeptical.

 

Piper makes more head signals instead of using words; she's at a loss for them.

 

“Jeez, where are you Piper? They're famous everywhere. Kids in Africa know who Primrose is. Grey's always making guest appearances everywhere. You never saw him with Alexa Chung, or the Today Show? Anywhere? Not magazines, cause he's always on those. I mean, look him up on the Web and you'll find plenty.”

 

Kimiko attempts to win back Piper's attention, but fails.

 

“Man, this is the coolest guest we've ever had.”

 

And Piper, slowly coming out of her trance, turns to Kimiko, looking skeptical.

 

“You think this is the coolest guest we've ever had? Don't you remember President Bush or President Obama? What about Oprah or Tiger Woods?” Piper asks.

 

“Well, he's still one of the coolest guests we've ever had.” Kimiko replies with a pout, “He sure is the hottest.”

 

“You think he's earned a place in the scrapbook?” Piper asks, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

 

“Of course he has! He's earned a place in there simply for existing! The only embarrassing part will be having to go up and ask to take a photo with him.” Kimiko says, practically out of breath for reasons unknown.

 

“You asked Michael Jackson, rest in peace. You asked Britney Spears and you asked President Obama. I think you can handle asking Grey.” Piper says matter of fact.

 

Kimiko agrees with a massive nod of her head.

 

They remain, heads huddled together in the far corner of the restaurant, undetected. That is until Piper hears the muted sound of footsteps approaching them. They turn around to find Fabrizio, the evil manager, not two feet away from them.

 

“Kimiko, get to work!” He orders. Kimiko scurries off, frightened, “Ah, Piper. We have a special job for you tonight. Mr. Grey Lockhart wishes for you to be his server. Don't ask me why, the boy's obviously a lunatic. Look how he dresses and the way he speaks...just go!” Fabrizio exclaims, shooing Piper away viciously.

 

She walks away from Fabrizio and as she nears the table a nervous energy presents itself in the very pit of her stomach. She's never felt like this, especially around a guy, because of a guy. She rubs her belly wearily and whips out her notepad, prepared to scribble down orders at lightning speed if necessary.

 

She clears her throat once or twice to make her presence known. When she's not heard over the restaurant racket she decides she's just going to have to speak up.

 

“Excuse me?” she calls over the noise of silverware clinking against plates, food being put into mouths, and voices babbling without end. She's heard.

 

Nine white faces turn to Piper's direction, all unsmiling and serious. Except for one that is; Grey. His pale lips turn up into an excited grin, his whole person seeming to visibly brighten up at her arrival.

 

“Hello and good evening. Welcome to Il Ricco. Can I get you some drinks?” Piper asks shakily, playing with the loose thread on her apron.

 

“Hello and welcome to our table.” Grey Lockhart mimics her with sublime perfection, almost sounding like her in a peculiar way that frightens Piper.

 

Suddenly her infatuation with him that had been speedily building up comes crashing down just as quick; a house being licked by the fires of Hell. No one imitates me, Piper thinks furiously, especially when they do it well!

 

“Okay, you may be famous, but can't you tell that I don't give a s**t? Now what the Hell do you want to drink?” she asks.

 

“A bottle of wine would be fine, red wine.” Grey answers, rolling his tongue seductively around the r in red.

 

Piper's eyes flutter and her heart skips a beat when he says that. But as quickly as that's passed she's back to her sarcastic self.

 

“Red wine? Aren't you a bit young for that?” she asks suspiciously.

 

“I'm never too young. So a bottle of red wine, my dear?” he says, “Scribble it down on that little pad of yours, walk away, and bring the bottle.”

 

That struck a nerve. If he weren't a guest Piper would surely punch him straight in the face.

 

Piper does as Grey instructs and goes down to the cellar and brings up an unopened and aged bottle of Merlot, wiping away the faint coating of dust from around it. She returns hurriedly to the table to find the whole group in a fit of hysteric laughter.

 

They wipe the tears from their eyes and get out those last few giggles when they're aware of her arrival, all nine of them resuming their somber act.

 

Ah, grazie.” Grey thanks her.

 

Piper uncorks the bottle and leaves it on the table for their famous asses to pour it in their wineglasses themselves. No help from me, she decides.

 

She huffs and puffs her way away from Grey's table, the very opposite direction in fact. She's determined to vanish from work and leave not a trace behind, that is until tomorrow when she'll arrive at five o'clock sharp with a made up excuse for her disappearance.

 

Kimiko's face shows up right in her way.

 

“Oh My God! You are serving Grey Lockhart! You must be in Heaven!” she exclaims, jumping up and down and squeezing Piper to the point of strangulation.

 

“Yeah, it's great!” Piper lies expertly.

 

“Of course it is! Now, I want to do this right now. Come with me to get a picture with Grey!” Kimiko begs, dangling her digital camera by the handle hooked on it.

 

Piper looks into those caramel brown eyes of hers and can't help but say yes. Her sentimental, friendly side wins; sadly.

 

“All right.”

 

Kimiko drags her by the hand in the direction of Grey's table in the main dining room. When the table becomes visible every member of the group is in hysterics yet again. Which produces the odd looks they receive from so many of the other diners. The other diners consist of aristocratic peoples, and supermodels, even former ones; Tyra Banks chews her salad in one of the very best tables.

 

Grey's group might be receiving those stares because of his group's appearance; all black and then some. Or it could be their awesome beauty, beauty that outshines all others. Or it could always be their volume, because their racket is audible throughout the whole restaurant.

 

It's a mixture of them all.

 

Again Piper's thoughts are intruded by an alien force. She wipes away the frightened perspiration from her brow, leaving the strange thought in her memory to be mulled over later.

 

Before she knows it they've arrived at Grey's table. Kimiko's mouth is open wide in a gigantic smile. Grey notices them quickly; grinning at Kimiko politely and smirking at Piper arrogantly. He notices the digital camera that Kimiko clutches with all her might.

 

“Hello and what may I do for you?” he asks Kimiko in his sweetest tone.

 

“We....we want to..to..take a photo with you. We do it with all the really famous and important people that dine here.” she stutters out shakily.

 

“Oh that would be just fine. Come waitress girl, you can take it!” he motions at Piper.

 

“No, no, someone else has to take it. She has to be in it with me.” Kimiko insists.

 

“If that's what pleases you.” he returns to his killer seductive voice.

 

Kimiko, taken quite aback, nods her head up and down.

 

A waiter passing by is left with the duty of snapping the photo. Kimiko poses beside Grey with the biggest smile ever seen on her face yet. She gets the awesome privilege of having Grey's arm wrapped around her petite body, whereas Piper poses with her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, fuming.

 

When the blinding flash of the camera has passed and Kimiko is back in possession of it, Grey suddenly appears shocked. His hands go up slowly and he grips Kimiko's face gently, looking her over.

 

“Have you ever seen a more beautiful lady?” he asks his group in a tone of obvious excitement, “I am certain that I have yet to.”

 

Piper, disgusted with his announcement heads back to the kitchen, gripping Kimiko's camera in her angry fingers. She presses the power button and looks over Kimiko's many pictures, her boyfriend the star of most of them. She arrives at the most recent one, Grey, Kimiko and herself. She presses the delete button and hopes the whole restaurant it pleased with the photo never having been in existence. 

 

Reviews

[Alex Thomas]

Strongly developed characters. It's good. Keep going with it. There are so many possible directions you can take this story.

[MidniteHearts]

Okay so I liked how the chapter opens and you introduced your characters very nicely. Your description on the setting of the first chapter is well written. I can't wait till you post more chapters!!