Emails

Cairo was eternally grateful it was Friday. She had five whole days off in the immediate future. She had texted Michael earlier, her partner for the night, to find out if he had double-checked the reservations for the evening.
She checked her appearance in the bathroom connected to her bedroom. Her red lips were going to need a touch-up later. She gave her room a quick once-over to ensure that everything was in order before grabbing her black coat off the hanger behind the door.
She wasn't serving that night, but she styled her pixie hair away from her face just in case an extra pair of hands was needed. The night promised to be a busy one.
'You have a good night there, Ms Cairo of Egypt,' Henry teased. She grimaced, 'I'll try, Mr Joker,' she chuckled, heading into the storeroom, wondering if Fabio had lost his mind yet.
She smiled as the metal doors parted, engulfing her in the chaos of the kitchen. He was losing his mind and hurting everyone's feelings in the process.
Fabio preferred structure, unlike Jacques, but he never got it. This only aggravated him, making him more of a nightmare to work for than Jacques. Cairo had good reason to know this after working with "the Grand kitchen masters" for the past 10 months. Although he had a negative temperament, it took nothing away from his craft. He was just as brilliant as his French counterpart.
'Evening, Fabio!' yelled Cairo.
'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, YOU IMBECILE!!!' he bellowed 'YOU ARE GOING TO DESTROY IT!' he screamed.
The poor assistant scurried away from the second round of insults.
'Don't worry, it's just business!' Cairo yelled after the scared girl.
'Who is...?' Fabio looked like he was about to give it to her, but his expression softened when he saw who had the nerve.
'Ah, Cairo, how are you, Bella?' he asked, turning his full attention on her.
'Alright, and you, Fabio?' she replied.
He sighed. She needed no further explanation. She knew that night was going to be insane.
'How does the crowd look?' she asked, heading for the door. Just as she was about to place her hand on the door, Michael pushed violently past her. He was dressed formally in black and white, a red tie at his throat.
The mutinous expression on his face was at odds with his sweet nature. He shoved past a few of Fabio's assistants and threw his serving towel down unceremoniously.
'And then?' asked Cairo. 'What did the table do to you?'
The anger simmered, fading into pain.
'It's Julia. She's attending the Spooked Premiere. We're going to have to serve tonight. I'm expecting a big crowd.' He said. No one missed his sudden topic switch. She was grateful she had worn comfortable shoes, a bargain for a designer peep-toe. He started pacing between stations, agitated. Fabio rested his interlaced fingers on his potbelly. He lifted a hand to fiddle with his beard, his expression thoughtful.
'What does Julia have to do with work, Michael?' Cairo asked patiently. She leaned against the table, tilting her head back and to the side, and waited.
'She's outside,' he murmured miserably. 'She's going to the Premiere with Robert.'
'WHAT?' Fabio and Cairo said in tandem.
'Her ex Robert? The one with deep pockets and bad manners?' asked Fabio.
'Yes...'
'Eish! I'm sorry, my friend!' she said, not knowing how to comfort him. She had never been the most affectionate person.
'You should have listened to Cairo! She told you to...hmph!' he wheezed as Cairo elbowed him in the gut.
'Now's not the time,' she said under her breath, giving Fabio a warning look. He nodded, rubbing his ribs, raising his arm in surrender.
'I'll say one more thing first,' he added, turning toward a shattered Michael in a fatherly manner.
'You deserve better,' he finished.
'Michael, we need to get to work now. It's nearly five,' said Cairo, checking her watch.
There were many faux-fur coats to handle at the door as guests from all the esteemed neighbourhoods of the fabulous and filthy rich came through. They felt safe at The Grand because they knew cameras were strictly prohibited on and around the property. The valets had too many cars to park. But this was almost the norm for The Grand. Everyone got paid for actual work, the only exception to those who paid them, and paid them well.
Everyone present had reserved tables for the unofficial after-party later. They popped in for drinks in all their glitz and glamour.
Three hours later, they could all breathe. The Spooked attendees had left for the event, and the restaurant crew could rest. The girls removed their shoes to massage and rest their feet where no one could see. The guys grabbed energy drinks.

There was only one server on the floor at a time.
Cairo felt sorry for the poor souls manning the kitchen. She had no doubt that Fabio was giving them hell.
Three hours later, the real party began. The obscene requests made by the reserved seats were once shocking, but Cairo had long since grown accustomed to them. It always amazed her how beauty and talent granted you access to the elite. But money granted you ruler-ship over everyone else, and everyone had a price.
A combination of the three was all the more deadly. Those who had won the genetic lottery wielded royalty, power and privilege. "Your job is to make the guest happy, no matter what," is what had been drilled into them by Graham. But she never went the extra mile, like many of her colleagues. Sycophantism didn't suit her. She knew her bosses hated it, but Cairo had never been obsequious or docile. She could never roll over and play dead, no matter how lowly her station.
Her duties were to ensure that their guests were adequately entertained, enjoyed their meal and found their coats when they left. If they'd had too much to drink, she called a driver or an Uber and would leave their names in the collector's book so someone would call to remind the guests to collect their cars and other belongings the next morning.
Overall, the evening went well, even though everyone was exhausted when they finally left the premises at five the next morning.
Cairo was especially happy that she had to get up for nothing the next day. She collapsed into her bed full kit, and everything went black.

She ordered her second coffee while she typed her mother a lengthy email at the internet cafe at the East-end mall. It was cold that morning, and she knew colder weather was on the way. She checked for any other emails as she finished her coffee.
She got up, pulling her oversized white jersey down her beige leggings and made for the exit.
As she dug into her bag for her phone, she bumped into someone hard, dropping his book in the process. 'Watch where,' the retort was strangled in her throat when she looked up.
Before her stood an immaculately dressed man righting his clothes. He was black-haired and tawny-skinned.
She felt like a complete idiot. She had just bumped into one of Bollywood's most celebrated actors, and her long-time, schoolgirl, celebrity crush. He oozed designer from the lapel of his coat to the sleek curve of his Italian shoes.
Where was the big hole in the ground when you needed it?
'I'm so sorry,' she repeated for the umpteenth time, acting just like one of the sycophants she so reviled. 'I should've been paying more attention to where I was going,' she picked up his book, hating the plea of forgiveness in her voice. The beautiful fawn-skinned woman with him was on the phone, a blinding rock on her left hand.
He looked...bored. There was no other explanation for it.
Amar Vargar.
Cairo winced at the look his beautiful, elegant wife shot her. But she held her glance. She ended her call to inspect Cairo from head to toe, followed by a begrudging look of respect. Amar took the book from Cairo's outstretched hand without as much as a glance. He turned towards his stunning wife. 'Sashni? You brought us here, so please go do what you need to so we can leave sooner.' He said, exasperated, somnolently.
'Sashni, Sashni, Oye!' he said, comically waving his hand before her transfixed face. Her gaze didn't falter; her appraisal of Cairo was unwavering and extremely unsettling.
Amar turned, probably curious about the thing that held his wife's attention so fiercely.
This is too much! Thought Cairo, overwhelmed by this probing. She apologised one last time and headed for the exit. It was hard not to turn and look back, though she could still feel their eyes boring holes into her back.
She walked as fast as she could without running


'That was a beautiful girl hey, Amar! So stylish and she had no make-up on.' Sashni gushed.
You would know, darling, he thought. Amar had only just turned to face his beautiful wife, who seemed to wear him just the same as one of her many designer handbags.
'Ya,' he whispered, belatedly, 'but nothing compared to you, my love.' He added, kissing her perfectly made-up cheek. She batted her thick eyelashes and stopped in front of the wall-sized window to study their reflection. She smiled at the picturesque couple they made.
'Yes, I must say, we do look perfect together,' she uttered, making her obvious thoughts known. She added another self-satisfied smile before heading into the cafe.
Amar shook his head 'That's it?,' he thought, wondering what had made him long to be with this woman while he had been away. Was he away too long, and were his trips wearing on her? To be fair, he did love his wife. She was just seemed too self-centred recently. They had been married since he was twenty. She had given him two beautiful children, whom he missed when he was working. But something was awry. He just couldn't quite pin it down.
He turned one last time, to look in the direction that the strangely interesting girl of some unknown ethnicity had disappeared in.
'Amar darling...!'