“
Somebody might get hurt,”
said Craig. “Maybe we’d better break it up.”
“
I don’t think we could,
even if we wanted to. And believe me—we don’t
want
to. This is why they
came.”
It was 10:55 PM, and
Orange Puke
was
nearly at the end of their second set. The Buttard boys had
calculated that scheduling the first set at 7:00 would get the kids
there early, and the second set at 10:00 would keep them hanging
around. Nobody wanted to miss the final song of the
night—
Orange Puke’s
signature song
:
“Puking My Guts Out (All Over
You).”
A few of the kids were
wearing caps. One girl was in a raincoat. But most appeared ready
and willing to bear the full brunt of the inevitable vomit shower.
It might as well have been
real
vomit as far as many
mothers were concerned. Those orange stains would never come out in
the wash.
“
I know how they do it,”
yelled a 14-year-old boy into his friend’s ear.
“
How?”
“
Remember last night when
they tilted their heads back?”
“
Yeah.”
“
That’s when they did it.
That’s when they poured the stuff in their mouths.”
“
No. We would have seen
that.”
“
I’m telling you. Watch
them. They must have a bottle hidden under their coats.”
“
I don’t think
so.”
The song was almost over. The three
guitarists stepped to the edge of the stage, as they swung their
guitars to their backs.
“
Okay. Watch,” shouted the
boy. “Here they go.”
The three women tilted their heads back.
Then they hurled on top of the crowd. Girls screamed. Boys yelled.
Everyone scattered.
“
Yuk,” said one of the
girls.
“
Isn’t it cool?” Her friend
wiped the orange goo off her own face.
“
This place is a mess,” said
Billy-Eye. “Worse than last night. We’ve got coke and popcorn and
candy wrappers all over the floor. And now we’ve got puke.” He
looked around. “And I think that over there is
real
puke.”
“
But it’s worth it. Right?”
Craig smiled proudly.
“
I hope so,” said
Billy-Eye.
“
Definitely,” said Lenny as
he walked up. We’re nearly out of candy. And we had a ton of it.
We’ll have to make a run to Sam’s tomorrow, so we’ll have some for
tomorrow night.”
“
How about the video games?”
said Billy-Eye.
“
I don’t how much we’ve
taken in, but the kids have been playing them non-stop. So, I think
we’re good,” said Lenny.
“
I just hope this vomit
gimmick doesn’t wear off too soon,” said Billy-Eye. “When the kids
get tired the band throwing up on them we’ll find out if they
actually like their
music.
”
**********
Greg was sitting on their hotel room bed in
his underwear when Cynthia emerged from the bathroom. He assumed
she would slither out into the dimly lit room wearing her most
skimpy lingerie. So, he was surprised to see her in one of his
Oxford dress shirts.
“
Let’s play a little game,”
she said.
“
Okay.” The way she looked,
he would have done anything she asked. Even if it was something
crazy, like: walk down to the truck stop and get me the shoe of a
truck driver. Hopefully it wouldn’t be that. But Greg could already
picture the big guy chasing him down the hotel hallway wearing only
one shoe.
“
You can be the student, and
I’ll be the teacher.”
“
Yes, Ma’am.” It sounded
much easier than going after that shoe.
“
Greg, you’ve been a very
bad boy.” She pulled a chair away from the table and slid it to a
corner of the room. “So, you must be punished.”
“
I understand, Miss
Cynthia.”
“
You’re going to have to sit
here in the corner for a while.”
“
For how long, Miss
Cynthia?”
“
I’ll let you know when your
time is up. Now come over here.”
Greg walked to the chair and sat down. “I
really like your shirt, Miss Cynthia.”
“
Thanks. Would you like to
see it up close?”
“
Yes, Ma’ma. Very
much.”
Cynthia sat down on Greg’s lap, facing him.
“It’s a nice fabric isn’t it?”
“
I
think
so. It’s a little hard to
see in here.”
“
Yes. It is kinda dark. Tell
me if you can see this.” She unbuttoned the shirt and opened
it.
“
Oh, Miss Cynthia. I
really
like
this
fabric.” Greg
kissed her on the neck and began to work his way
downward.
Then they heard another woman’s voice. It
almost sounded like she was in the room with them. They suddenly
realized they were close to the door that opened into the adjoining
room.
It was a young woman voice, speaking in
perfect monotone. “Oh, Baby, you’re so good. Keep going. Yeah,
Baby. That’s right.”
“
Would you buy that?”
whispered Cynthia.
“
She needs acting lessons,”
said Greg.
They both wanted to laugh out loud, but they
knew they’d be heard, so they fought it. Then the man groaned
loudly, followed by dead silence.
“
I guess
he
bought it,” said
Cynthia.
They started snickering and nearly fell off
the chair.
“
Let’s get away from this
door,” whispered Greg.
They ran to the bed and jumped in. It would
be their best night of lovemaking since the honeymoon.
And it wouldn’t be until the
next morning that they would wonder if anyone had heard
them
.
Chapter
14
Any time Herman Mayberly walked into the
restaurant, the wait staff scattered. At 76, Herman was like an
older John Wayne—but without the charm. Occasionally patrons would
hear him in the kitchen clanging pots and pans, yelling at the top
of his voice over something that wasn’t cooked according to his
standards. He was a bull to work for.
It was wonder he’d ever been able to hold
onto staff people. Mostly they stayed around because of Angie. She
always had a knack for making people feel good about themselves—in
spite of their lousy situation.
Angie liked to think that her father had
once been a kind, caring man. But that was before she was born. She
attributed his perpetual grouchiness to the loss of his 38-year-old
wife while giving birth to their only child. He often said he could
see Wanda every time he looked at Angie. And instead of bringing a
smile to his face, it seemed to make him angry.
“
Where’s Angie?” he barked
at a young waitresses.
“
I think she’s in her
office.”
Her
office. Until a year ago, it
had always been
his
office. He had begged Angie
to divorce Clifford, promising her full control of the restaurant
if she did. It was time for him to retire anyway. And when his
daughter finally filed for divorce, Herman begrudgingly kept his
promise. At least he
tried
to—unless he saw something
that wasn’t being done right.
“
A couple of your waitresses
look like teenagers.”
Angie looked up from her
computer. “They
are
teenagers, Dad.”
“
Well, that’s too young. You
need mature women who know how to treat your customers—not some
wise-cracking kids. In all my days of running this place I never
hired any teenagers.”
“
Yes, you did.”
“
What? I did not.
Never.”
“
You hired one. Me. I
started working here when I was twelve.”
“
I didn’t
hire
you. You worked
for free.”
“
You upped my
allowance.”
“
Okay, yeah. But that’s
different.”
“
So, where you have been? I
haven’t seen or heard from you in a few days.”
“
I told you where I was
going. Don’t you ever listen? Me and Bob spent a couple of days up
at Sam Rayburn.”
“
Oh. Well, yeah, you told me
he
invited
you. But I didn’t think you would go.”
“
Well, I figured you don’t
need me here anymore, so I might as well try to find something to
keep me busy.”
“
Yeah, but fishing? I
thought you hated fishing.”
“
I thought so too. But with
Bob it’s kinda fun.”
“
Great, Dad. I’m glad you
enjoyed it.”
“
So, what’s going on around
here? Anything new?”
“
No. Not really. We had a
little accident on the dance floor last night, but nobody got
hurt.”
“
Well, why are you dressed
up like that?”
“
Uh…I’m going to a
party.”
“
On Sunday afternoon? What
is it—a birthday party?”
“
Yeah.”
“
Anybody I know?”
“
Ralph Tenorly. He’s
75.”
“
Ralph Tenorly? That old
codger?”
“
Old codger? Dad, you’re a
year older than him.”
“
You don’t even know him, do
you?”
“
Not really.”
“
Then why are you…” Suddenly
it hit him. “Does this have anything to do with that grease monkey
across the street?”
“
Dad…”
“
You’re going to the party
with him, aren’t you?”
“
Yes. Now just settle
down.”
“
I will
not
settle down! You know how
much I hate that good-for-nothing bum!”
“
Come on, Dad—you don’t
really
hate
Edsel.”
“
Yes, I do—and you know
why!”
“
Daddy, that was years ago.
Can’t you just finally forgive him?”
“
No. I can’t and I won’t!”
He stormed out of her office.
Angie checked the wall clock: 1:47 PM. She
would finish up the payroll checks, and then walk over to see about
Edsel. He was probably still working. If she didn’t make him to
stop, take a shower and get dressed, they would be late for the
party.
**********
Edsel was lying on the creeper under Mr.
Jennings’ 1977 Coupe DeVille. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d
made the loop around the Golden Triangle last night. He should have
been sleepy. But there was no way he could accidentally doze off.
Not today. His mind raced with thoughts of how he would tell Angie
that he still loved her—that he had never stopped loving her.
He imagined how she might
react. There were several possibilities. But only one of them would
be the
correct
reaction. If there was any hesitation on her part…or even the
slightest hint of pity in her eyes, it was over. His dreams of
happiness would never come true. But why dwell on the negative? He
must tell her with confidence. If his whole world was destined to
fall apart, so be it.
He heard somebody open the shop door and
walk in. Had to be Angie. Probably checking to make sure he was
getting ready for the party. “I know what you’re gonna say. I
should have already been in the shower by now. But don’t worry. I’m
about to quit.” He quickly finished tightening the last bolt on the
oil pan. “Angie?”
She didn’t answer.
**********
“
Looks like business is
starting to slow down,” said Cindy Banya, sitting in a booth
at
The Biscuit
with Craig Buttard.
“
Yeah, most of the church
people come in between 11:30 and 1:00. By mid-afternoon it’s pretty
much dead.”
“
What’s going on in the back
room?” Cindy watched as a waitress walked by carrying a large
electric coffee urn.
“
Somebody must be having a
meeting or a party.”
“
I see.”
A waitress brought their coffee and dessert.
“Two coffees and two strawberry biscuit cakes.”
“
Surprised?” said
Craig.
“
Strawberry
biscuit
cakes?”
Cindy studied the dessert. It was one
Buttard Biscuit
, covered with
fresh strawberries and whipped cream with a cherry on top. “I
should have known it would have a biscuit in it.”
“
Taste it.”
She frowned at him, and then picked up her
spoon and sampled the dessert. “Not bad, actually.”
“
See. I knew you’d like
it.”
She took another bite. “Yeah, I hate to
admit it—but you were right. It’s delicious.”
“
Good. And now that you know
you can trust my judgment, I’ve got something else for you to try.
And it’s also delicious.”