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"Alright, everybody. Tonight is going to be a busy night for Aliments Comestibles. You need to be prepared for the rich, the snooty, and a heavy combination of the two," my boss stated, pacing back and forth along the polished marble kitchen floor which would surely gain much grime and dirt over the night.
A small collection of those gathered in the kitchen quietly snickered at her comment.
She was known to be quiet the jokester among our workplace.
"Now, I know we've dealt with them prissy-pricks before, but tonight—and for the next few nights, there will be a lot of them. A lot more of them, I should correct myself to say," she said, stopping to make eye contact with each one of her staff.
"Why; may I ask, will there be a lot?" Zeke asked as he stuck his hand halfway into the air. "I'm unaware of anything interesting going on in Wellston."
I looked to Zeke, then around the room. There were murmurs and nods of agreement; no one was sure of what was going on. No events, no parties, no openings of any new exciting restaurants or exciting places to go.
Naila, my boss, chuckled.
Twirling a small lock of short, black hair around her finger, she said, "I may have received word that a superstar was dropping by."
This only caused further chatting among our group—louder, this time.
"T-to the restaurant?!" Audree, a young and enthusiastic waitress, stepped forward to ask—clearly somewhat delighted at the idea of such. She was sweet, a little ditsy, but sweet like any sort of fruit pie.
My boss lightly shook her head. "Disappointingly, no. Not that I've heard of. But that won't stop tourists from travelling here just to get a closer look," she said with a wink and grin. "Who wouldn't like a bite of fame?"
Audree dipped her head low and stepped back to her place in the group.
"I-I see," Zeke stuttered out, placing his still slightly outreached hand back down to his shoulder.
Naila suddenly clapped her hands together, making quite a loud slapping noise. "Okay! I'll need all the best staff on duty. Audree, you're on the front counter."
Good choice.
A determined look grew on her. "Yes, ma'am," she said, sounding a bit too serious for her pouty and childish face—what made her such a good hostess.
Audree was rather new on the job. She was petite-sized—maybe only 19. On her head was a mop of peach-pink hair, while big, brown, and wide eyes stuck themselves to her face like big bowel of brown, teacup puppies.
