Page 23 of DadBod

ELIZABETH

I love staff meetings.

No. Let me rephrase that.

I love being at the restaurant when it’s not open to the public. There’s something calming about the place, with its deep red walls and dark woodwork. The floors are a combination of the same dark wood as the booths and tables, along with beautiful rustic tiles. The wood goes around each room in the restaurant and acts as a frame for the patterned tiles in muted reds, greens, and blues. Whoever designed the place really knew what they were doing, because When in Rome has ambiance. With flickering candles on each table and soothing music seeping from the hidden speakers, the place is both romantic and welcoming.

I love it here. Funny. I’ve never dined here, you know, as a customer. I’ve eaten everything on the menu now (well… almost everything), I know how good everything is, but I’ve never had the entire When in Rome experience.

For a second, I picture myself sitting at a table across from Rome…

“Thanks for coming, everyone.” Rome’s dressed casually in jeans and a gray tee that looks like it’d be soft to the touch. It’d sure be fun to find out for sure. He’s wearing a jacket over that T-shirt, because of course he is. From here, it appears to be navy blue. He looks nice in blue.

The entire crew from When in Rome is sitting at tables in the main section of the restaurant. There are three rooms. One main dining room, the bar off to the left, and a party room that we also use for regular dining on busy nights––if we’ve got the staff to cover it.

I’m talking to you, Monica.

I’m at a four-top with Jeriann. One of the bussers, Malone, is sitting across from me, meaning there’s an empty spot beside me. A spot that Jackie usually takes, but today, she’s on team Monica, I guess. Not that we’re on teams. Not the same team, anyway.

“I know several of you are off today. I appreciate you taking time out of your Sunday to meet.”

The group of about twenty-five employees all seem to nod in unison. A few mumble replies, but I can’t make any of those out.

“I know you all have questions. I’m going to tell you as much as I know. After that, I’d like the subject to drop.”

We all remain silent, because Rome doesn’t mince words. If he wants the subject to drop. It’ll be dropped. Unless you’ve got a death wish, no one that works here will ever speak of it again.

“As I’m sure you know, my ex-wife, Tina, was killed in a single-car accident. Preliminary reports suspect she swerved to miss hitting an animal and went over an embankment. The autopsy confirmed she was not impaired in any way. It was a freak, unfortunate accident.” Rome sighs. I know he was happy to end his marriage, but the guy isn’t a monster. I’m sure this is hard for him.

“My children will reside with me now.” He runs his palm over his cheek, then his forehead. “They’re having a difficult time, obviously.”

Oh. Man. This sucks.

“You’ll no doubt see them here from time to time.”

“We already have.” Monica tries to hiss softly enough that no one could hear her. But I could. Let’s hope Rome didn’t.

Rome continues, but it seems as though he’s not really talking to us but rather to himself, in front of us. I feel for the guy. “It’ll be an adjustment. I may not be able to spend as much time here.”

“You could get a nanny.” Monica pipes up louder this time. “I’m sure you can afford it.” Wow. What is she doing?

“Thank you for pointing that out, Monica.”

Why doesn’t he say her name like he does mine? With emphasis.

It’s frustrating.

“I’d love to be your nanny, Rome.” Monica again. The urge to punch her in the throat is strong today. Stronger than usual.

“Jesus, Mon. Desperate much?” That was Jeriann. See? That’s how you emphasize.

The room has become restless, with more people having things to say, but Rome puts a stop to it when he holds up his hand, palm out, and says, “Let me finish.” The room quiets again. “We’re done talking about all of that. Now, let’s address some issues here at the restaurant.”

I glance at Malone and watch as he slowly begins to slide down in his chair like he’s melting. I don’t blame him, because this is the portion of the staff meeting where Rome tells us what we’re doing wrong. He starts with the bussers, which is why Malone is trying to hide. “I can’t believe I’ve got to repeat this.” Rome sighs. “But, as soon as a table empties, you need to be there with an empty tub. And I mean it. Empty. Our guests don’t want to see you carrying around dirty dishes.”

He’s right. It’s disgusting.

“But sometimes there aren’t enough—” Our youngest busser, Gabe, squeaks from his spot at the table closest to Rome.

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