Featherly

“What about wrestling?” Tom suddenly asked, surprising us. We hadn’t seen him sneak into the kitchen from his office, holding his clipboard loaded with the daily inventory checklist.

“Kenny’s trying to find a date for WrestleMania,” Featherly blurted out.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, and wandered over with a faint smile.

“No,” I said, and glared at Featherly, who was actually giggling. “I mean —”

“We did a case about the World Wrestling Federation,” Tom interrupted. He must’ve noticed our empty expressions because he added, “You know, in business school.”

“A case?” Featherly asked, totally perplexed.

“Yes, a case,” Tom said, like he was some fancy professor trying to get through to a couple knuckleheads. “You read a detailed description of a fictional business problem, one with no easy answer, and then everyone has to decide for themselves what the company should do…and you must defend your recommendations.”

“Whoa, how hard could that be?” Featherly chuckled, sort of joking, I thought.

But Tom stared back at him with dark, dead eyes, wheels turning, and I could’ve sworn Featherly’s face suddenly melted. Tom really put him in his place with that stare, and I could’ve kissed him (not really, I’m just saying). But then he softened and shook his head, smiling.

“Okay, maybe,” Tom said. “So here was the WWF problem: How do you create original wrestling promotions to beat out other long-standing, successful competitors?”

I wanted to crack a joke and say: “You body-slam ’em!” but he wasn’t looking at me, and anyway, I didn’t want to come off as too much of a smart-ass. Featherly, though, had regained his composure and after a few moments let a nice, big, goofy grin fill his face before saying, “You open a restaurant.”

Tom let out a long, hard laugh and nearly yelled, “Good answer!”

“They’re showing the match at Kelly’s,” I said, as if Tom knew where that was. “It’s gonna be insane.”

That’s when Featherly piped up, saying to Tom, “Hey, maybe you should come with us.”

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open; I mean, I hadn’t invited Featherly, and here he was asking our boss, the owner of Deli Delight. My brain was spinning. Then he added, “You could come over to Kenny’s first and…” he hesitated, thinking, “and teach us a case.”

“A case of what?” I said as a joke, not really knowing what I was saying, let alone what the hell Featherly was thinking about.

But then again, Tina said she might come too, which really freaked me out.

“You know…” Tom said, a genuine smile stretching across his face, “that’s a damn good idea.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ll stop by…after we close.”

“But you don’t know where I live,” I said, trying to hide a sudden, desperate wave of panic.

“Kenny,” he said, “I know where all of you live.” I must’ve looked confused because, well, I was, but then he added, “Employment records,” as if it was obvious. I know he wasn’t trying to put me down, but right then I would’ve been happy to get sucked into the grease trap.

Tom disappeared into the walk-in reefer to count pastrami packs. I waited for the door to clank shut before hissing at Featherly, “Are you out of your freaking mind?”

He just chuckled and patted me on the shoulder like I was his little brother. “Come on, man — you really think he’s going to show up?” he said, and then turned back to his lunch prep, which pretty much told me he didn’t need me to answer.

***

The night before the party, I tossed and turned and woke as restless as a fly. I wasn’t much of a party thrower, and this whole WrestleMania thing had gotten out of hand. Of course, I didn’t get out of bed until near noon, but even then I had to suck down a couple bong hits to settle the edge. Having Sunday off sure didn’t help. Weekend brunches were about the only times Deli Delight was truly balls-to-the-wall busy, the restaurant filling up early and staying that way until midafternoon, the place a madhouse with waitresses flying between tables, busboys dumping tray after tray of dishes in my face, and, naturally, Featherly twistin’ and flippin’ with this wild, manic look on his face. On weekends, more than any other time, people needed their eggs, and damn if he wasn’t going to keep them coming. Sometimes Tom was even too busy to count the register!

I liked working Sundays, even this one, and I knew I would’ve had enough time after work to chill out before the party. But little Jimmy Hastings had begged for more hours, and Tom already had his other cook, Danny Lopaca, scheduled as backup to Featherly, all of which meant a-day-off-for-Kenny. I couldn’t complain, but I did miss being there — missed the action. I’d been working on my egg skills — okay, mostly at home — and was pretty sure with a little more practice with poaching and soft-boiled, I’d be ready to leave the grease trap behind for good. But that couldn’t happen if I wasn’t there, which I wasn’t, so instead I straightened up the apartment, your basic dump on the second floor of a paint-starved house around the corner from the 7-Eleven on Lincoln Avenue.

It took all of five minutes to dump trash cans filled with empty beer and soda cans, but I wasn’t about to waste time scrubbing out the stains on our rented furniture, and there was nothing I could do about the cigarette burns that now dotted the carpet I’d borrowed from a dumpster behind J&M Discount, that is, before they shut down.

Once cleanup was complete I had all afternoon to stew about the party, which kind of sucked. Thing was, I didn’t even know how many people were coming. Like I said, the whole thing had gotten away from me, and quickly. Once Anna had overheard Featherly invite Tom, and heard his acceptance, she’d quietly blabbed about it to everyone, telling them my party was the perfect opportunity to get Tom to tell us all what was the deal with the new store (the idea being to loosen him up with beers and whatnot). Before I knew it everybody was asking me what time they should come over. Would we have beer? Weed? Stuff like that.

Anna even started hinting that Tom might promote someone to assistant manager. That seemed crazy to me, but not as crazy as all of them — the entire Deli Delight staff — inviting themselves to my party.

But then again, Tina said she might come too, which really freaked me out.