Chapter 1: Initiation

After four hours on the job I was bewildered. Why had I let my brother talk me in to spending my summer working for a family-owned restaurant chain? The job description, 'driver and miscellaneous duties' appealed to me, along with the promise of a place to sleep, with meals provided.

So far, I'd been read the riot act by the owner's wife.

"You'll sleep in the cottage at the rear of the house. The maid will deliver your evening meal. You are not to come inside the house unless you're specifically invited," Mrs. Tucker told me when I first arrived at company headquarters. I nodded to confirm that I understood her and was relegated to the first floor storeroom.

"Move everything from the front to the back and everything in the back to the front," the witch told me. "Don't break any of the china. If you do, I'll deduct the cost from your pay."

I was especially careful, carrying stacks of plates, cartons of glasses and individual mugs to shelves at the rear of the storeroom. The mugs had the company logo, a photo of the smiling owner and 'Tuck', screen-printed on them.

The same logo was on the side of a white van, which was backed into one section of the downstairs stock room.

I heard the footsteps of the three women tread the floor above. It was easy to tell which one was crossing the room. The sound Mrs. Tucker's high heels made was distinctive. It had a ring of authority when she walked to the kitchen for a cup of coffee or to the lady's room to take a leak. The sneakers Trudy wore scuffed the floor as she went about her tasks of printing menus, sending facsimiles or sorting the mail. Betty, the petite bookkeeper, only went to the kitchen to fill her coffee mug once that morning. Her heels made a sound to reflect her personality, soft, pleasant and unobtrusive.

At ten A.M. the witch used the intercom to tell me to go pick up her husband. "The keys are in the car, along with directions to the house. Bring him straight here."

I spoke to the box on the wall, "Yes, ma'am," and went outside and got into the Lincoln Town Car. The directions were easy to follow, and it only took a few minutes to drive the two miles. The home was large, and there was another car parked in front of the garage. I wondered why Mr. Tucker needed a driver.

He came out the side door of the house, looking older than the picture of him on the logo. I judged him to be in his middle fifties, much older than the witch whose footsteps had made such an impression on me all morning.

Should I get out and open the back door for him? He was seated in the passenger's seat next to me before I could decide.

"Victor? Please call me Tuck," he said, extending his hand.

"Thank you, Sir," I said, shaking his hand.

Tuck was not a big man. He was wearing a dark, summer suit. His dark hair was slicked back and his mustache was neatly trimmed.

"Did Professor Sawyer brief you about our business?" Tuck asked as I maneuvered the big car into traffic.

"Not really, Sir."

"We run a lean and mean operation. My wife manages the office and I ... well, I'm not sure what I do. We only have three restaurants. Two are in the suburbs, catering to families, and one is downtown, concentrating on the theater district.

"I have a short meeting and then you can drive me to Tuck-North," he said as he got out of the car. I noticed a dark SUV was now parked in front of the building.

As I moved cartons of paper goods, cases of canned goods and boxes of cleaning supplies around in the stock room, I listened to the footsteps above. Now, in addition to the witch's high heels, there were scuffing sounds, which I assumed were made by men's shoes.

At eleven-thirty, two men came downstairs and drove off in the SUV. A minute later, Mr. Tucker appeared, saying he was ready to go. He directed me to a route that would avoid the city traffic, and proceeded to tell me more about his company's operation.

"My managers work four long days and are off two days. We move them around, with one exception, and that creates a scheduling nightmare. But I pay them well and that keeps them happy. I can't remember the last time one of my managers missed an assigned shift."

I wondered what the one exception was, but didn't ask. He seemed to be willing to tell me more and I was glad to listen.

"We serve a quality meal at the right price. My bartenders serve a damned fine cocktail, too," he said, and then turned his head to look at me. "I can't let you drink during working hours. What are you, twenty?"

"Nineteen, Sir," I said.

"You may as well know, Victor. I'd rather you hear it from me than one of my wives. I have a drinking problem."

He was looking straight ahead. I saw no need to comment, so I looked straight ahead, too. He directed me to Tuck-North and told me to drop him at the door and then park the car at the rear of the parking lot.

It was a few minutes past noon and the parking lot was filling up fast. Business must be good, I thought as I went inside. I found Tuck at the bar with a drink in his hand. He introduced me to some of the customers and the bartender. "Victor's a college student, but he's my driver for the summer."

During the two hours we were there, I was introduced to other customers, most of the staff and the manager. Eric was a big guy, tall and heavyset. His hands were enormous. "Are you still going to marry my daughter, Eric?" Tuck asked, laughing.

"I plan on marrying her if she doesn't kick me out of the apartment, Dad," Eric said.

Eric asked us if we wanted something to eat. I said "Yes," and a waitress brought me a sandwich a few minutes later. Tuck declined the offer.

We stayed in the bar until two P.M. when Tuck was ready to leave. He told me to drop him off at his house. "Did you keep track of how many drinks I had, Victor?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. Don't make a habit of it either."

"I won't, Sir."

"Give this to Liz," he said, handing me an envelope.

I wasn't sure who Liz was, but it had to be Mrs. Tucker. She took the envelope when I handed it to her. "How much did he drink?" she asked.

"I didn't keep track, ma'am."

Mrs. Tucker's eyes were like daggers. I stared back at her, wondering if she ever smiled. If it were not for her sour mood, she would have been an attractive lady. She was dressed in a smart, business suit and she had a nice figure. "I'll expect you to count his drinks from now on," she said, walking away from me before I had a chance to tell her I would comply.

Which one was I going to obey? The witch must have known her husband ordered me not to keep track of how many drinks he had. I went back to my job of rearranging the downstairs storeroom until quitting time. At six-fifteen, the upstairs was locked and Mrs. Tucker told me to drive her home. She rode in the backseat, without talking until I parked in front of the garage.

"Clean this car. It's filthy, inside and out," Mrs. Tucker said as she was getting out of the car.

A black lady came out and introduced herself to me. "I'm Melina, but everyone calls me Missy. I'll show you to the cottage," she offered. I got my luggage out of the back of the car and we walked past a swimming pool on the right. I tried to get Missy to tell me about our employers, but she wouldn't answer my questions.

"This is it," she said, stopping in front of the cottage. "I'll bring you something to eat after awhile," she offered.

"No rush. I have to wash the car," I said. She nodded and turned back to the house.

The cottage was small. There was a table and four chairs, a bed, a cabinet full of towels, and a small television. The bath was the only other room.

I changed into short pants and proceeded to wash the car. I was vacuuming the inside when a small sports car came to a stop in front of the garage.

"You must be the new boy," a blond said, removing her sunglasses and inspecting my bare chest.

"I'm Victor," I said, inspecting her covered chest. She ran to the house, turning back and grinning at me before entering the back door. She must have known her short skirt got my blood pumping.

I'd finished with the car and was on my cell phone, reporting in at home when Missy knocked on the cottage door. She was there to deliver my dinner. I took the tray from her and she backed away.

"Bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen in the morning and I'll give you something to eat," she offered.

"I'm not supposed to come inside the house," I said, remembering what the witch had said.

"The back door will be unlocked. No one will know you're there but me," Missy said. I saw a hint of a grin on her thick lips. She walked away before I could ask who the blond was.

I dined alone, enjoying the dinner Missy had prepared. After eating, I watched television until I became sleepy and went to bed, enumerating the things I'd learned about the business and the strange family. I had more questions than answers.

Missy met me at the back door, took the tray and whispered, "I can't let you inside today, Mister Victor. She's almost ready to leave."

I waited by the car until Mrs. Tucker came outside. I couldn't help but watch as she walked toward the car. "What are you looking at?" she asked in a huffy voice that made me forget why I'd been admiring everything about her. I opened the back door and she got in. Neither of us said anything during the short drive to the office.

My second day passed more quickly because I knew what was expected of me. At eleven o'clock, I was ordered to pick up the boss. He came out of the house dressed the same as before and told me to drive him to the mid-town restaurant. We got there before the rush and were able to get a table for two. A lady approached our table.

"Victor, I want you to meet the mother of my daughters," Tuck said.

She was blond, stacked and lovely. "I'm wife number one," Mrs. Tucker said, smiling. "Please call me Vera."

She chatted with us for a few minutes before making the excuse that noontime customers were beginning to arrive. We ordered our lunch, ate it and said goodbye to Mrs. Tucker as we left.

I noted that, unlike the day before, Tuck didn't order anything to drink. Was it his first wife's influence that made him abstain? On the way back to company headquarters, he explained what went wrong with their marriage.

"In addition to giving me two beautiful daughters, Vera made me successful. Our problems stemmed from her being obsessed with the business. She's always been a workaholic and I became an alcoholic. We didn't mix well. I can sure pick them..." he said, intimating that Mrs. Tucker number two was also a workaholic.

Afraid I would cause trouble, I didn't comment. He had me drive him to the office. He went upstairs; I worked in the storeroom. At five-thirty, Trudy came downstairs to check on my progress. I told her I was finished and she agreed. "Tomorrow, you can work upstairs with me. You'll have two days to learn my job."

This came as a shock to me. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"I have Friday and Saturday off. You and I have to work Sunday."

"Why?" I asked, shocked that I'd be working on Sunday.

"Just to be here in case one of the restaurants needs something. It'll be fun," she said, giving me a wicked grin as she left for the day.

I drove Tuck and wife number two home. He headed for the back door to the house and I started walking toward the cottage. "Mr. Thomas," the witch called me. "Wash the Mercedes. We're going to use it tonight."