The Swiss Suitcase (LSD, #1)

8. One More Shot

One More Shot

Back in my room, we change into our daily uniforms. The urgency to find Mister Nikolai and the 100-million-worth suitcase is inferior to the pressing desire of the guests of the five-star Prestigio International Hotel to see their lunch served on time.

My wrinkles and Rostov's make-up disappear quickly, but they designed the mascara on his eyelashes for everlasting beauty. We try water and soap, we try shampoo, we try aftershave, we even try that strong-smelling duck-piss the chambermaids use to clean out the skid marks in the toilets, but nothing works.

My last hope is: "Sabina will know what to do."

I run to the reception: "Do you have something against black eyes? I mean, to get that black tar off someone's eyelashes? It's an emergency. Our shift begins at one o'clock and it's already a quarter past."

Sabina looks in her purse. She tosses me a small bottle and a naughty smile: "Have you and your cute boyfriend Mesut been playing with mummy's make-up?"

I have no time to explain. I mutter a "Thanks" and run back to my room. Two minutes later, we enter the kitchen to start with our shift. The chef looks at Mesut's red eyes and asks: "Have you been crying or is that because you cut onions for the soup? You're late. The guests are waiting."

I have respect for the chef and her staff. Working in a kitchen is extremely heavy. You have to do everything at once: you're preparing the toast with three different sorts of marmalade for room 123 and bang, there is a phone call from room 234 who wants tea, bread rolls and fresh peaches, but you haven't even put the kettle on when the chambermaid comes in to pick up the scrambled eggs, black coffee and Bulgarian yoghurt with muesli for room 345 and meanwhile the toast is burning because you forgot the sugar for the coffee and all the time a waiter walks behind you asking what happened with that bottle of yak milk that the lady of room 456 ordered because she has an allergy for all other sorts of dairy products. You have no idea how much brainwork it takes to work in the kitchen of a hotel.

The chef of this hotel reserves even more respect, because she does all her tasks as fast as possible with 40 kilos of bum that bumps against everything and everyone in her direct surroundings, and on top of that, she's responsible for two separate kitchens: the kitchen for mass production where five cooks prepare all the meals we serve in the large dining room, and the kitchen for individual desires where twenty-five cooks work day and night to prepare the never-ending demands of room service.

Thanks to all that pressure, the chef developed a habit to pick on everything and everybody: "Clean that plate before you put the rice upon it. Don't prick that steak, but move it and turn it. Look out, the milk is boiling. Wash your hands. That haddock is for room 123; room 234 ordered the catfish; no, that's red herring, the catfish is in that plastic bag over there, clean that floor, no mayonnaise on that salmon the sweet pies are burning the mashed potatoes the ice cream and where is that toast I asked for the salad the water the strawberries the coffee and didn't I tellyoutocleanthatplatebeforeyouputhericeuponit..."

We rush to the dining room with our cart full of plates and cutlery, but when we enter the room, we control our movements to the standards of well-trained hotel staff. Not all the guests of the hotel have booked the «full pension» (lunch and dinner included in the room's price), but the reputation of the hotel's kitchen is good enough to fill almost all the seats around the 35 tables in the majestic dining room. We take the orders for the drinks and serve them from the bar next to the entrance doors. On other days, this was the work for just one waiter, me, but with the help of Rostov, we set the tables and serve the drinks in half the time.

When we return to the kitchen, the chef gives her orders: "First plate: soup of fresh tomatoes and vegetables, or salad of fresh tomatoes, basil and mozzarella. Second plate: grilled salmon with Béarnaise sauce or spaghetti Bolognese, the sauce is made of fresh tomatoes. Dessert: hazelnut meringue or strawberry cheesecake."