Luke's, Monday

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had an important dinner that night which, he'd been informed in no uncertain terms, he was not going to be cooking for. Which his staff was using to mean they got to kick him out of the kitchen every time he went to go hover and make sure they were prepping Kathy's stuff in between making orders for actual customers. To the point that the busboy had actually taken it on himself to bodily block the door into the kitchen, holding a cast-iron skillet up threateningly any time Eliot got close.

"You know you have an actual job here, right?" Eliot asked him. "You're supposed to bus tables, not just be the cook's lackey."

"I prefer the term 'minion', thank you," the busboy said. "And Sheila said she'd cover today."

Sheila gave Eliot a jaunty wave as she walked by, her plastic bin overflowing with cleared dishes.

Today's specials
Build your own burger
Some sort of potato side probably
Desserts

"Wait," Eliot asked. "Who the hell is Sheila?"

Luke's was open and OCD free.