Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 10.1: 1967, George

Chapter 10.1: 1967, George

 

Another night at The Majestic, this beloved club we work in. Sometimes I am sarcastic about saying "beloved", but other nights, like this one, I am not. I am happy today because Frankie is at the club. Though, he had some company who make me uneasy.

"Nice music tonight, Dad," Edward said, patting his old man on the back. He was focusing on eating some baked ziti that Paulie had cooked earlier at his own home and brought in special just for Eddie, because we knew he'd be in tonight and oh lord if he didn't have his baked ziti. Really, good lord. Paulie had made more than usual, so we had set a plate in front of the old man, too. He seemed to be enjoying his baked ziti and the band.

On stage, a swing band was playing "Moonlight Serenade". Before opening, we had moved the tables to the sides to make way for dancing. We did this every Wednesday night, a mid-week special for people who needed a weekend day during the week to unwind. It also meant that Paulie and I didn't have to work the stage, and so for this night we worked as waiters for the higher clientelle who came in for the dancing. But with higher clientelle, it also brought in Mr. Caselotti's friends. This is what made Wednesdays Paulie's least favorite day of the week. That and the cooking.

Paulie stood with me at the bar, a momentary lapse as we watched our happy customers converse and dance.

"I made some baked ziti for Avi, too. I wanted to make him some matzah ball soup, its his favorite you know, reminds him of his Grama. But I didn't have time with the baked ziti. I hope he likes it," Paulie was telling me.

"That's good," I nodded, still watching Eddie and the old man nearby.

"There's some in the freezer in back, too. We can have some after work. I tried some earlier. The sauce is really good tonight. I put in too much of the spicy stuff. Its got this weird kick that kind of works," Paulie went on. Paulie sure loved to cook, experiment. It was just the pressure of pleasing Eddie that was off putting for him on Wednesdays. It meant he wasn't cooking for the joy of cooking, he was cooking for the joy of Eddie.

I chuckled. "How much baked ziti did you make?" I asked, finally looking at Paulie.

"Two pans. We're getting some of the good batch and the bad batch. I ended up putting in way too much of the spicy stuff the first time. My ears just about went like tea kettles. Hope you like spicy," Paulie shrugged.

"Yeah, its good. I always get the spicy chicken at that Chinese place me and Frankie go to on the West side," I giggled.

"Oh good then," Paulie grinned. "I couldn't leave it for Avi. Avi can't deal with the spice. It gives him the runs."

"Ugh, Paulie," I said, making a face of disgust.

"Such a soft stomach you are even though you can take the spice," Paulie laughed, patting me on the back comfortingly as I fake gagged with my finger halfway in my mouth.

We went silent, and I began listening in on Eddie and his old man again. Eddie was always a loud talker. I couldn't really ever hear what the old man said due to how heavy he breathed. The old man was pretty large, so he had trouble breathing. But we had patience because he was a kind man. He's also the one who gave us our jobs, so we didn't have much choice but to be patient and accomodating.

"See, Dad? Isn't this nice? Why can't we have dancing here all the time? Why you gotta hire those phonies, whaddya call 'em, those 'impersonators'? Those funny guys? Not funny 'haha' but funny weird?" Eddie was saying. My eyes went wide and Paulie's did, too. We looked at each other wide eyed and then leaned in a little.