Extinction: Episode 3

by Cathryn Grant
A short story serialized in five episodes. Read previous episodes: Episode 1. Episode 2.

Zyra smiled hopefully at the couple.

“What do you recommend?” said the man.

This was the question she longed to hear every evening, an open door, inviting her to defend the slaughtered creatures lying on ice slabs in the refrigerated room. How could she resist? “Order the sturgeon while you can. It’s on the list of sea life vulnerable to extinction. Soon, you won’t be able to get it. You have the chance to make a huge contribution to destroying the planet. All for the price of $49.95, plus sides.”

The man gave her an uncomfortable grimace. His brow was lowered slightly as if the effort would help his brain decipher her words. At the same time, he seemed  fully aware she’d said something upsetting. She’d stripped off his veneer of sophistication and pointed out what he was really like – feasting off other creatures to satisfy his own gourmand tastes. The continued silence, his frozen expression, told her he had no idea how to respond.

In a single breath she’d managed to stir up a deep sense of guilt, a sudden awareness that he wasn’t gracefully striding across the planet, enjoying its resources. Instead, he was stomping the earth, flattening the vegetation, sucking it dry of life and contributing to its eventual destruction. Yes, that was the other look on his face. In addition to guilt, he was terrified. Her words exposed him for the frightened creature he was, finally aware that the earth was burning up while he ignored it, racing around in his turbo-charged something-or-other, eating whatever he pleased, running the shower full force for as long as he felt like day-dreaming. And now he was reduced to a child that couldn’t find anything safe in the world. He shuddered like a hooked fish, gasping for oxygen.

The woman took a sip of wine. “That was a very offensive little speech. Please send the manager to our table.”

Zyra stared at the man until he blinked. His eyes were damp.

Suddenly Gordon was at her side. He held two narrow glass cups. Perched in the cups were hollowed brown eggshells, each one filled with a spoonful of caviar. “Zyra, please remove the soup bowls.”

She picked up the bowls.

With a flourish, Gordon set the cups in front of the man and woman. “Compliments of your chef.” He turned to Zyra. “Come with me, please.”

She followed Gordon to the kitchen. He pushed open the door to the food prep room. She followed. He turned and without giving her a chance to set down the soup bowls, leaned close. His breath smelled like the bay in late summer, a hint of seaweed and rotting crustaceans. “Why the hell do you work in a seafood restaurant if you’re a vegan? You can’t be feeding customers guilt over your idiotic animal rights notions. If you do it again, you’re fired.”

“Why don’t you fire me now?”

“We invested a lot in training you. We thought you had the polish for this place. You’re nice eye candy, you can do well here, but you have to leave that …” He waved his hand in a circular motion. “That political stuff outside. Why can’t you grasp that?”

Zyra walked around him and set the bowls on the wood block table that filled most of the room. She’d been right. He had no courage. He didn’t want to let her go, he was too consumed with the hope of getting her into his bed. She laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re mocking me.”

He moved closer until she felt his breath on her face again. Zyra couldn’t understand why he was unconcerned about being caught standing so close. Was he this way with all the female servers? His wife was the owner, the head chef. Did she notice how he hovered around Zyra? Probably not. She had her head stuck too far inside her pots. Marissa seemed to enjoy slicing the creatures that fell under the razor-like blade of her filet knife before they landed in a pan with a drop of extra virgin olive oil, their sizzling flesh stripped of its skin and the delicate support structure of bones.

Marissa was an icy-looking woman, with nearly white blonde hair, eyebrows that were only discernable when she was standing a few feet a way, and bloodless lips. There was nothing about her that indicated she enjoyed food. Her body was skeletal, which probably explained why Gordon spent half the evening looking at Zyra’s breasts with a hunger that said the man hadn’t eaten in  months. It explained why he always ended up too close, his thick wrist brushing against her hip. At the same time, he seemed terrified of his wife. It was clear that Marissa told him what to do, that the concept for the restaurant was hers, and that her desire for success was about more than serving good food. Marissa wanted to define, then control, and finally, revel in the power of fulfilling the desires she created. Gordon was the last thing on her mind.

Episode 4: Sunday, August 22

© Copyright 2010 Cathryn Grant

Advertisement