After opening the door and carefully stepping inside sideways (she didn’t want to make Hannah’s assistant help get her unstuck on their first meeting), Dakota was greeted by a bald, dusky-skinned man, who looked to be in his early fifties reclining on an office chair, sipping a cup of coffee. “Large” was an apt descriptor for both his height and his weight, as he looked to be at least 6 foot 3, with a protruding gut pressing up against his sweat-stained polo shirt, thick, but muscular arms, and a thicker, if not exactly proportionally large, lower half.
Dakota took a second to take in his office. It was very pristine, just as professionally organized as Hannah’s office, and quite a bit larger that she had expected. A dozen or so filing cabinets lined one side of the room, likely containing the files of all of the employees that Omar supervised. In contrast to the overall tidy nature of the room, all of the various office equipment and furniture that would typically have a home throughout the center or the room had been pushed against the walls, in order to make room for a padded bench seat that rested in front of a long dining table that took up most of the room’s central space.
Dakota turned around to close the door behind her, and as she turned back she noticed his eyes seem to pop out of his head as he stared at her immense bottom half. It took a second to realize he’d been staring before he snapped himself out of his trance, and cleared his throat.
“Dakota, right?” His gruff voice emphasized his lack of etiquette. Dakota was a little surprised at his unprofessional attitude (shouldn’t Hannah’s assistants be required to have some manners?), but moved past it quickly.
“Yes, that’s right. And you are?…” She stepped forward and reached her fat arm out to shake his hand in greeting.
The man declined to get up, and instead lazily reached up and lightly shook her outstretched hand from his seat. “I’m Omar. Sit.” He gestured over to the bench with one hand while he sipped from his mug with the other.
Dakota waddled over to the offered seat and sat down heavily, glad to be off her aching feet once again. As she settled in, she tried to ignore the subtle creaks and groans that she’d come accustomed to hearing below her posterior. “So...” she said, leaning back into the padded back of the bench and flipping open the manilla envelope Hannah had given her, “What’s the plan? I guess we could start going over these applications, figure out who to interview…”
“No.” Omar opened an identical folder that sat on the desk in front of him. “I already did the interviews. All qualified. You won’t be doing that.”
“Oh, well…great! So, I guess I’m just going to…” Dakota trailed off, waiting for her hopes to be realized. If she wasn’t going to have to do the boring stuff, that meant she would just have to-“
“Eat. Yep, that’s right. You’ve gotta try and grade everything, no exceptions.” Omar chugged the remainder of his coffee, checked his watch, then stood up from his chair and walked over to the door. “Be right back, cig break. Food should be here soon.”
Dakota waited until he had left to start started punching the air, and let out a squeal of excitement. As if this job couldn’t get any better!
A knock at the door interrupted her mini celebration. Not knowing what else to do, Dakota called out, “Come in, it’s unlocked!”
The door opened up, and a terribly skinny middle-aged man dressed in typical chef attire walked in, followed by two similarly-dressed younger men pushing dollies carrying large crates. The older man walked over to Dakota and reached out his arm in greeting. “Nice to meet you, miss…?”
Dakota began to try and lift herself out of her seated position, but after a few seconds of struggling (She had just sat down, here was no way she would push herself to exhaustion again just to be polite!) she reached up with her flabby arm and shook his from his position. “Hi, I’m Dakota! And you are?”
The man looked puzzled. “Uh, Giovanni. I’m sorry, I thought we had an appointment?”
“Oh, you do! Sorry, my partner is more up to speed, he should be back soon.” Dakota smelled the delicious aromas emanating from the crates the other two men were beginning to unpack. “I’m guessing this is going to be Italian-heavy? Not that I’m complaining!” She laughed, her generous form jiggling in response.
“Well, yeah, but I’ve whipped up some other items not currently on the menu, I hope that’s all right?” Giovanni started plating each menu item and setting it down onto the table in front of Dakota, and placed some silverware in front of her.
Dakota’s stomach rumbled loudly, but her embarrassment was overridden by her hunger. “Yeah, that’s fine. Not sure where Omar is, but I might as well start now, right?” Not waiting for an answer, she dragged a plate of spaghetti and meatballs across the table to the center, and started digging in.
——-
Hidden away in the back of the building, obscured by various outdoor equipment and storage sheds (so no paying customers would happen to find, even by accident), Omar checked his watch, put out his cigarette and walked back through the employee entrance. It had become less popular with the kinds of employees Ms. Hammond tended to hire lately; the younger generation around here didn’t typically choose smoking as their primary vice.
About an hour had passed since Omar had left, but if he knew anything about Ms. Johnson, she wouldn’t mind. Ms. Hammond had assured him that the young girl wouldn’t need any assistance, and that she was “overly qualified” to handle this part of the assignment on her own. “No kidding,” he muttered to himself, remembering just how wide the young lady was.
Approaching the door, Omar grabbed the handle and gently opened it a crack to listen in on Dakota’s progress. Loud chewing, swallowing and lip-smacking sounds reverberated from inside.
Oman heard a man’s voice cautiously speak up, attempting to override the young whale’s loud mastications. “So, what do you think of the Alfredo, Ms. Dakota?”
Another few seconds of chewing noises, followed by the sound of utensils hitting an empty dish. “Mmm, it’s pretty good, I think, but I could use another serving just to make sure!”
The man sighed, and said, “Sure, coming right up.”
“Great! And I could use some more of those breadsticks if you’ve got any more. You don’t mind if I undo my skirt, do you?” Before the man had a chance to answer, the sound of a zipper could be heard. “Phew, that’s better! All right, hit me! Hurry up, I can’t wait all day!”
Omar checked his watch, and carefully closed the door, making sure to not be heard by the room’s occupants. He trudged back toward’s the employee entrance, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.
This was going to be a while; he’d head back when the next chef was scheduled to arrive.
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