Uniforms Part 1

London's winter never held any surprises. The sky hardly showed a crack of blue, and it was miraculous if it was dry. But for all its gloom and grandeur, Cairo, a 23-year-old South African, was grateful for its acceptance of her.
She hunched her shoulders against the icy breeze, adjusting the grey scarf around her neck as she made her way across the packed lunchtime traffic. She hoped that Andrew had her first meal of the day ready.
At least the clothes she had chosen provided adequate protection from the cold this time. She still wasn't quite used to it, or how short the days were in the winter.
'Morning, Henry,' she said after walking the three short blokes from her grey, small, shabby, incredibly expensive flat to her place of work. Parks House was originally four stories high, built in the mid-1800s. It was now a ten-story, light grey sandstone facade, with beautiful arches, strong and elegant. But it was warm and safe, and the landlord was a reasonable man.
Henry was a short wisp of a man, incredibly elegant. He was strict but very sweet once you got to know him. He was wearing a cobalt blue kufi with a gold band around the front, in a matching suit with a mandarin collar and a gold band down the seams under his navy blue coat. She had seen him on the way out when she left work at four am that morning. She had no idea how he managed to look so comfortable in this biting weather.
'Back already, love?' he asked, friendly as always in his thick Scottish accent. He was manning the store-room entrance today, which all the staff members used.
She was grumpy. It felt like she'd only slept for three hours and not seven.
'Ay, you know us wicked people don't rest,' she smiled, then asked, ' Henry, how do you deal with this cold?'
'I'm from Scotland, lass, it's warmer here,' he chuckled in his gruff voice as she proceeded through the storeroom, stacked with hundreds of brown boxes and crates, to the metal double doors that heralded the kitchen.
The fact that the kitchen was in complete chaos came as no surprise to Cairo. There were four people in total, three of whom looked harassed and scared out of their wits,
running around the bustling, spacious kitchen. It was a cheerful-looking place, with white tiled walls, black floors, chrome cookware, and utensils with a brilliant green wall of plants covering the fridge and pantry.
Although it looked like a mess, she knew Jacques ran a tight ship. She found him yelling at everyone in rapid-fire French and smiled, feeling sorry for the casualties.
'Bonjour Jacques!' she shouted over the clangs and shouts.
'Bonjour Cherie!' he said appreciatively, 'As usual, you look magnifique no?' said Jacques, softening minusculely, trying not to let his guard all the way down for her.
'You're too kind. You should try extending some of that kindness to your staff sometimes, you know.' she said, kissing Jacques on each cheek.
'You know they don't deserve it,' he whispered, a crooked smile creasing and softening his hard features. His thick, glossy blonde hair was spilling out from the bun. He was tall and hard-muscled. A rugged beard covering his jaw with soft brown eyes. He was a handsome man, but definitely not the kind one would fancy. Not with that temper, or those lungs. Many were known to run out of his kitchen in tears! They called him the dream crusher behind his back. He killed a lot of dreams of working full-time at The Grand.
Cairo gave him a reproachful look, quickly followed by a smile of her own. She understood that he needed to remain a tyrant so the people who worked under him wouldn't become complacent. 'At least not yet,' he added with a wink.
'So Jacques, can I get something to eat?'
'For you ma chére anything. What would you like?' he asked, attacking the stove.
He was a phenomenal Chef who poured his heart and soul into all that he prepared, though his fame was a product of tragedy. His wife and firstborn son, a twin, were brutally murdered while he was training under the Old Grand kitchen master. His other son, Tanguy, had survived only because he'd had soccer practice, and his friend's mother had to take him home after no one came around to collect him. Tanguy now lived with his Grandparents in the south of France and came to see his father often.
Jacques couldn't forgive himself for what happened. As a result, he learned how to handle the workload much faster than his boss and replaced him.
'I trust you with my stomach, Jacques. Is Andrew in? He was responsible for getting my first meal of the day,' she said, going to peek out of one of the circular windows in the second set of doors that led to the dining area. Most of the walls were floor-to-ceiling length windows, filling the room with light. The only solid wall on the east side of the room was covered in glossy black wallpaper with velvet leaf-patterned brocade, repeated on the drapes at the window edges, neatly arranged behind modern sculptures. One was of a blue marble little girl leaning over, the second of brass spheres within spheres, that rotated in a slow, steady rhythm, and the last one was of a female form in white marble.
Overhead were crystal chandeliers made from hundreds of crystal flutes, hanging side by side in diagonal lines, like organ pipes, crisscrossing the room. Small square tables covered in white linen with blue runners all had beautiful seasonal flowers in a white vase with small glass pieces surrounding them, with four cushioned chairs on every side. Each table had white, clean crockery and accompanying silver cutlery and white napkins folded neatly into a blue and gold band. The vast room has thirty-six small tables, of which roughly eight were occupied.
'No sign,' she said, settling into a chicken breast morel velouté, with a side of asparagus and herb butter. One of the perks of making friends who can cook is, they feed you well.
'You know him!' said Jacques with a smile that said Andrew was always preoccupied.
'Ah! Yes, of course,' she smiled in agreement, 'That's why I came straight to you instead.'
'That's another strike for Andrew. Please tell those Essex boys I've gone to get the uniforms sorted. If I get their sizes wrong, then it's Andrews' fault. He was supposed to give me their updated size before I left. I don't think he should be dealing with uniforms anymore.' Cairo said after her gourmet brunch.
'I'll tell him to give you a call.' Jacques smiled and started howling as soon as she hit the door 'Break is over, ALLER!!!! Get to work!'
She headed back out for her meeting with Graham Smith, her boss, at the East-end mall.
Cairo formed part of the team that helped recreate The London Grand Hotel and restaurant, with Graham at its head. He was the glamorous Don Juan, renowned for his taste for the finer dames in life. He was even more notorious for the speed with which he exonerated himself of his conquests, moving on to skinnier and richer dames of life.
Cairo knew better than to fancy him. Women threw themselves at him all the time. He was never without a woman, and a beautiful one at that. But the man was beautiful, and she had always had a weakness for beautiful things. He was also white, and she was not, which wasn't such a big deal, but people still made a fuss about mixed-race couples.
After working at The London Grand for nine months, Cairo's fortunes changed. The former head waitresses, Mandy and Petunia, left for 'greener pastures,' and left Graham with his hands full. They had caused a couple of brilliant scandals for The Grand, using the old bathroom break to make illicit deals with the guests. Petunia was caught in the back of a limo after a two-hour break, while on duty and a pair of diamond earrings were found in Mandy's possession that she couldn't account for.
Cairo and Alexis Sullivan, a fellow South African, had not been the natural candidates for their succession. It was a big step up from being a waitress who delivered the coats of the drunks who left them over the night before. Cairo and Alex, as she was more affectionately called, were teamed up with the Essex brothers, Michael and Andrew, and served side by side as the Headwaiters for The Grand Restaurant.
They were responsible for everything from rosters to uniforms. They also had to study their competition and research trends. This resulted in a lot of dedicated sleepless nights. But the result was worth all of the effort.
The London Grand was the model which the rest of the conglomerate followed. They set a worldwide trend, thus making it one of the most visited hotels in the World. But the new rules were nothing short of a noose they all were likely to hang by if they ever missed a step. Should an honoured guest ever find their service wanting, they would immediately be dismissed, which left them with next to no chances of securing another post in the hotel and hospitality industries worldwide. Thanks, Mandy and Petunia.
Cairo had gotten used to spending more time awake than sleeping. Lifestyles of those who serve the rich and the famous, she thought, waiting for the Uber to take her to the East End mall. But on the upside, she was also spending a lot more time with Graham. You couldn't tell she liked him by looking at her. She was the master of no expression.
She had no idea how she was going to function at this meeting. His face alone sent her heart racing. It was the first time he had asked her to help him with uniforms. But this was only because she was the only one available. 'He doesn't like you,' she said out loud to herself, checking her phone to find a text from Andrew with all the male waiters' sizes and an apology.
After spending an eternity in the heavy London traffic, Cairo stepped into the cold late October air.
She found him waiting outside the entrance, talking on the phone. Graham looked gorgeous as always. His blue eyes were the shade of sapphires, and a jet black head of neck-length locks framed his ivory face. He had high, sharp cheekbones, a slim, straight nose, a strong, square jaw under full, rosy, heart-shaped lips. He was dressed casually for their meeting, in a red jersey, or jumper as the English say and denims. She smiled when she looked at his shoes. She still found white boys in All-Stars a bit strange.
All-stars were such Kasi shoes; very commonplace where she grew up. But then again, there weren't any white people around her before she left home.
Her legs felt heavy as she walked up to him listlessly. She needed more sleep. He smelled amazing! Then again, he always did. He smelled like mint and vetiver with a smoky scent on the edges, cedarwood. Don't forget, he doesn't like you.