Page 6 of On the Line

It opens.

I walk in.

The place is quiet. With a quick look around, I estimate that the dining room holds around twenty tables. The place is decorated in muted greens and black, with an eclectic collection of frames lining the dark walls. The restaurant feels intimate. It’s somehow unassuming but impressive.

There’s not a customer in sight, but it’s still early, they must have just opened.

I almost double back and run out.

“Can I help you?” a voice says from the shadows of the bar to my left.

Startled, I look over. I find a woman in her late twenties, dressed all in black, with a high ponytail pulling her blonde hair tight against her scalp. She’s polishing a wine glass and staring straight at me.

I take a few steps toward her, then abruptly stop. “Oh, uh, sorry.” I push my hair out of my face. Move my weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to drop off my resume. I’m not sure if you’re hiring but I thought I’d just … I don’t even know if this is how it works—” I laugh nervously, letting my words trail off.

I suddenly feel pinned by her stare as she continues to slowly polish the glass. Her gaze is meticulous as she sizesme up. I start to question my outfit—Is it too casual? Maybe I should have worn a blazer. Did I even pack my blazer?— followed by an existential deep dive into why I’m here in the first place before she speaks again.

“Have you ever worked in this kind of restaurant before?” Her voice is cool but not frosty.

“This kind?” I can’t help but repeat.

“This isn’t an Olive Garden.”

I’m not quite sure what that means but I pick up on the implications: This place is superior.

I decide not to lie. “No, but I’m a hard worker and I learn fast.” I stick on an assured smile while her face stays impassive. She makes a low non-committal hum in response while curling her finger to wave me toward the bar.

As I quickly skitter over, she puts down the wine glass and white rag before taking my resume out of my shaky grasp.

While she studies my utter lack of experience, an employee appears from the back, clipboard in hand. Based on the chef jacket and blue apron, I’m assuming he’s coming from the kitchen. His light brown curls are kept off his face by a folded blue bandana over his forehead.

As he gets closer, I make out that he’s slightly taller than me with a slim build, although it’s hard to tell with the bulky uniform he’s wearing. His blue-green eyes travel to mine, lingering before looking away when he reaches the bar.

“Here’s the list you asked for, Elle,” he says, pushing a few crumbled pieces of paper her way then shoving a Sharpie into his apron pocket.

“Thank you,” Elle says distractedly.

When his gaze skates back to mine, he flashes me aquick grin, followed by a wink before disappearing into the back.

I jump, surprised that something so simple made me startle.

Elle’s eyes finally lift back to mine. Her nude-painted lips pressed together. “Can you start tomorrow? One of our servers quit on me last night,” she says with the smallest of eye rolls as if even speaking about whoever she’s referring to is beneath her.

My heart slams into my throat but I’m quick to answer. “Yes of course. I can definitely start right away. Absolutely. No problem.”Shut up.I clear my throat and smile.

My resume flutters down to the bar. “Right then. Dress code is all black. Pants or skirt, whichever is fine. Minimal cleavage, minimal makeup, and always have your hair up.” She disappears under the bar before popping back up. “Menu. Study it, know it by heart. We open every day at five, except Mondays when we’re closed. Be here at least an hour before opening. Understood?”

I make a quick mental note of everything she just enumerated and nod enthusiastically, reaching for the menu and sliding it into my tote bag.

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it. I can’t wait,” I gush, cringing at my almost teary tone.

She gives me a thin closed-lip smile. “Welcome to Orso.”

She starts back on her polishing, effectively dismissing me.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I chirp, “See you tomorrow.” And turn on my heels.

Outside, I feel slightly turned around. The sun is almost glaringly bright. My interaction with Elle is already replaying in loops while I squint up at the blue sky. Still, Iwalk back home with a permanent smile on my face, unbothered by my previous aches and chafes, knowing I’ll be officially employed starting tomorrow.

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