Lurkers Page 22

  ‘Yup,’ Jessica said, ‘Help yourself: I quit.’ She went back into the kitchen with the bus tub.

  When she came back out, she pushed me further into the booth and sat down next to me. ‘Seriously,’ she said, ‘I just fucking quit.’ She took off her nametag.

  ‘Nobody likes a quitter,’ I said.

  ‘Nobody likes me anyway,’ she said, ‘You don’t like me. My fault, I guess; I never told you before....’ She looked at Leslie. ‘Sorry. I kinda like your guy here.’

  ‘I get that a lot,’ Leslie said, ‘Chicks dig a guy with a big SMG.’

  Jessica stood up again and took off her apron before sitting down again.

  ‘You’re really quitting,’ I said.

  ‘What’s the point,’ she said, straightening the collar of the costume they made her wear, ‘Four thirty-five an hour, which almost covers taxes on eight percent of sales. You know I have to pay that whether I actually get the tips or not? If that cop hadn’t kinda made that wigger gi’me a hundred bucks, he wouldn’t a’given me anything. They never do.’ She tugged at the collar now, and glanced up at Sybil shedding layers of polyester. And she laughed. Once. Shortly.

  ‘What,’ I said.

  She stood up and pulled her costume off, threw it on the floor, and sat back down next to me. ‘Sorry I don’t match,’ she said, indicating what little she was still wearing.

  Seeing that, Sybil inferred a competition, and hurried to get undressed. And, seeing that, BB and Mary hurried to join in.

  ‘Did this happen last Friday?’ I asked, ‘I was playing a videogame.’

  ‘Fifty-three minutes!’

  Jessica laughed and drank some of my coffee.

  ‘You’re in here a lot,’ I said to Chuck, ‘Is this, like, normal?’

  ‘Um...no,’ he said, ‘Not actually normal. But, all things considered, not all that weird either. It’s kinda average. No one’s died yet.’

  ‘There’s that.’

  ‘One night,’ he said, ‘A guy died. Over there in...I think it was seventy-three, where Hutch is. He just, you know: died. Stopped living. Paramedics came out, made sure he was still dead, and took him away.’

  ‘Wha’d he eat,’ I asked.

  ‘That’s what I asked,’ Chuck said, ‘Larry thought I was joking, so he never told me.’

  ‘Dick.’

  ‘Is it always this cold in here?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘You’re usually wearing more,’ I said.

  ‘I know; but, really: is it always this cold? Being dressed most of the time—’

  ‘Most of the time?’

  ‘—and always moving around, I guess I never noticed how cold it gets in here.’

  ‘The wiccans seem okay with it,’ I said, looking at them, ‘Of course, they’ve got blubber going on. Whales would be okay with it too.’

  Unable to stand it any longer, I suppose, Hutch waddled over. ‘So, uh...you’re quitting?’

  ‘Go away,’ Jessica said.

  ‘Well, no, because...I don’t like to, uh...I don’t like to, you know, date girls when I go where they, you know, work—’

  ‘Would it be wrong,’ Jessica asked me, ‘if I went and got that gun after all?’

  ‘Works for me,’ I said.

  ‘Fifty-two minutes!’

  ‘—thinking maybe, you know, if you wanted to go somewhere—’

  ‘You’re still talking,’ Jessica told Hutch, ‘Words are happening to me. I’m not into that.’

  ‘Forget it,’ I said, ‘He’s in Hutch mode now. He’s like the flu: rest and wait for it to go away. Or, depending on the strain, maybe it just kills you.’

  ‘—so okay, so, I dunno. Whaddayou think.’

  ‘What do I think,’ Jessica said, ‘I think a jury would feel very, very sorry for me.’

  Hutch looked at Leslie for support.

  ‘I’m not getting undressed,’ she told him.

  He moped a bit.

  So,’ I said to Jessica, ‘Are you gonna get all better, or am I gonna have to film you. Because, right now, I’m thinking that, if I were to talk about this—ever—no one would believe me.’

  ‘Film the dancing ones,’ she said, ‘They’re more interesting.’

  Hutch looked over at the three chicks now actually entirely naked, dancing and trying to sound Irish while singing about...something. ‘They’re wearing less than you are,’ he told Jessica.

  ‘Is that what it’s about?’ Jessica asked, standing up and pulling off what little remained, ‘Is this what you’re after? Here! Look! Check out the attentionwhore! Should I take off my shoes, cos that’ll take me a minute!’

  I didn’t film it. I shoulda. But I didn’t.

  ‘Fifty-one minutes!’

  ‘Um,’ Hutch said.

  ‘What!’ Jessica demanded.

  ‘Uh,’ he said, ‘Depends whether you really quit.’

  ‘What possible difference could that make anymore!’

  ‘Um,’ he said, pointing to the lobby, ‘That?’

  We all looked to the lobby. It was 5.17 in the morning, and the breakfast types expecting that advertised plastic perfection were beginning to arrive.

  Jessica gaped for a second. Then: ‘Be right with you!’

  The nuclear family waiting to be seated gaped back. As Jessica gathered up her clothes and retreated into the kitchen to put them back on, I told the waiting family: ‘Casual Friday.’

  ‘It’s Saturday,’ Dad told me.

  ‘We’ve been here a while,’ I said.

  Dad wandered over to better see the three wiccans still dancing with Worf. ‘And this is still that?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re looking into a theme for this place,’ I said, ‘So we’re playtesting dancing naked idiots and big fat gay guys. There are some kinks to work out.’

  ‘There are some kinks,’ he said, ‘That’s the right word for it.’

  ‘Dear?’ Mom called.

  Dad looked back at her. ‘No; don’t; just...wait there.’ Another glance at the dancing morons and he told me, ‘I think it could work, but maybe not on a Saturday morning. We might come back when you’ve got it figured out.’ And he hurried back to the lobby to grab the wife and kids and flee from the building.

  ‘He believed me,’ I said, then looked at Leslie, ‘He actually believed me.’

  ‘Toldya,’ she said, ‘It’s all about the dialogue.’

  ‘Fifty minutes!’

  I pulled out my phone and began to film the dancing morons, narrating: ‘So, we’re still at the restaurant and...there’s really no setup for this clip: things just kinda...happened.’ Getting up and moving in, I continued: ‘So, these would be wiccans—not unlike these idiots.’ I framed the hippies. ‘But wearing less, apparently. The waitress is also naked...I think...unless she’s got her clothes back on by now. Not that she’s a wiccan. Unless she is. I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. Except that I’m having the weirdest night. Also, I wrote the end of the new book; so...whenever I get the rest—’

  Worf, who was in no way small, slamdanced into me, knocking the phone out of my hand and sending it under 74. ‘Good job, Baryshnikov,’ I said, dropping to reclaim my phone. And, just to make everything make sense again, the wigger’s twelve thousand bucks.

  I’m joking, of course. Actually, it was only $11,900. I guess because one of the hundreds had already gone to Jessica. One of the bills was still sticky with syrup. Dumb luck I charge $11,900 to have to touch old syrup, huh.

  I ended the recording and put my phone away, careful not to get syrup all over it. And I returned to 71.

  ‘He actually did lose the money here?’ Leslie asked, watching me find a pocket for the cash in my backpack.

  ‘Nope,’ I said, zipping that pocket back up.

  ‘You can’t keep it,’ she said.

  ‘Apparently I can,’ I told her.

  ‘You’ve got money,’ she said, ‘You’re actually keeping the money he’s saved up for a car?’

  ‘He didn’t save it up: his d
ad gave it to him. And he pointed a gun at me.’

  ‘You pointed a gun at him.’

  ‘My gun’s not insulting. His was all...I’m insulted that he pointed it at me.’

  ‘You really are evil,’ she said.

  ‘You want it?’ I asked.

  ‘No! Well, yeah. But: no.’

  ‘So that’s settled,’ I said.

  ‘You realise you’ve probably made that much in book sales since we got here tonight,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ I said, ‘It’s not about that. If she’s really quitting, I’ll give it to her. I guess. Or something. I dunno.’

  ‘Well, that’s a thought,’ Leslie allowed, ‘That little fucker did kinda deserve to lose it.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Forty-nine minutes!’

  Jessica came back out, slowly and tearstained, but dressed.

  ‘They left,’ I told her.

  ‘I can’t believe I did that,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t believe you stopped,’ I said.

  She nodded at the wiccans. ‘They’re still at it though.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘But they’re boring.’

  Hutch had gone back to 73. ‘You can sit here with me if you want,’ he said, ‘Even if you’ve got clothes on again.’

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘I’ll be smoking now.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Leslie said, ‘Me too.’

  Jessica followed us out front and we all lit up.

  ‘At least there are no cameras pointing where I was,’ Jessica said, ‘You didn’t actually film me, did you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  ‘Hey!’ Leslie squealed, hitting me.

  ‘What,’ I said, ‘I’ll film you too. Probably make more money filming you two than I get from writing books.’

  ‘He’s joking,’ Leslie told Jessica, ‘I’m not...you know.’

  ‘She totally is,’ I told Jessica, ‘German, you know. East German. She’s cleaned more carpet than Rug Doctor.’

  ‘I’m not either,’ Jessica said, ‘Well, that I know of. I guess.’

  ‘Curious isn’t gay,’ Leslie said, ‘Yet.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying,’ I said, ‘You are so way past curious.’

  ‘Would you shut up,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘Oh: idiot,’ I said.

  ‘What,’ Leslie said.

  I told Jessica: ‘Take your clothes off again. Then I can film you. I’ve already filmed Leslie.’

  ‘No he hasn’t.’

  ‘And—uh, yes I have. That one time; you know.’

  ‘You said you deleted that!’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like me. Huh. So anyway: Photoshop is my friend; so...yeah: we should totally do that.’

  ‘We should? Jessica asked, ‘How come. Why would I do that again.’

  ‘I’ve got twelve thou—well, eleven thousand, nine hundred bucks saying you won’t do it again.’

  ‘That I won’t do it again? You don’t want me to?’

  ‘I don’t want you to not do it and also lose the money,’ I said.

  ‘Did you two want to be alone?’ Leslie asked.

  ‘See?’ I asked, ‘She’s okay with it.’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ she said.

  ‘But it’s true,’ I said.

  Jessica looked at her.

  ‘Oh come on,’ Leslie said, ‘It’s five in the morning, I’m tired, and I’m not talking about going all lesbian with a waitress who likes you more than me anyway.’

  ‘She’s okay with it,’ I said again.

  Jessica shrugged. ‘I guess I don’t care. I mean, I’m okay with trying it out.’

  ‘We’re seriously talking about this,’ Leslie said, ‘Why are we seriously talking about this. I’m not talking about this. I’ll be inside.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘Go back in with the three dancing naked chicks; that’ll get your straight on.’

  ‘She’s not okay with it,’ Jessica said.

  ‘Ffft,’ I said, ‘Some people are so intolerant.’

  ‘You know I’d get naked again, for you, and you wouldn’t have to pay me.’

  ‘Oh yeah. I know. But...remember the twelve thousand the wigger lost?’

  ‘Yeah? Oh no. Did you find it?’

  ‘Of course. Things couldn’t be weird enough otherwise.’

  ‘You’re gonna keep it?’

  ‘I’m not gonna give it back to him. Fucker pulled a gun on me.’

  ‘We kept the gun, too,’ she said. Then she laughed.

  ‘Bonnie and Hyde,’ I said.

  ‘I thought it was Bonnie and Clyde.’

  ‘It was. But Clyde wasn’t evil. Unless you count Dick Tracy. Hyde was evil: ask Jekyll.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘What.’

  ‘I’m trying to decide whether I’m a lesbian now.’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘How come.’

  ‘Because, technically, I’m having a really bad night,’ I said, ‘So it wouldn’t fit the pattern.’

  ‘You want me to be a lesbian.’

  ‘Nah. I don’t actually care. I’m just kinda supposed to care.’

  ‘Maybe I could try out one of the wiccans,’ she said.

  ‘Feel free. I’m not going to.’

  ‘You know, I didn’t really get dressed again.’

  ‘Okay....’

  She glanced around quickly, then pulled up her dress at me.

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘The rest is still in the kitchen, on the make table.’

  ‘That’s oddly icky,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t ask what else has been on it then.’

  ‘The coffee’s safe though, right?’ I asked, ‘You drank some.’

  ‘Did I? Oh god.’ She started choking. Then she laughed. ‘I’m kidding: the coffee’s fine.’

  ‘The coffee sucks,’ I said, ‘But that’s a given, outside Europe.’

  ‘I should go back in and get more dressed,’ she said.

  ‘Or less,’ I said, ‘Whichever’s easier.’

  ‘Heh.’

  ‘So you’re not quitting?’

  ‘Nah. Not yet. If I quit, I’d never see you again.’

  ‘Never know,’ I said.

  ‘You should write a book about this,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been saying.’

  ‘Except...if you wrote about this, you’d have to include me getting goofy and walking around naked in there, huh.’

  ‘Well, yeah: that’s the best part.’

  ‘Shit. Would you have to use my name?’

  ‘Not all of it. Your nametag says “Jessica”, when you’ve got it.’

  ‘Oh shit. It’s on your table.’

  ‘I can just use that.’

  ‘Cool. Do I get a free copy?’

  ‘Don’t make me beat you,’ I said.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘Forty-two minutes!’

  5.26 in the morning. The sky beginning to lighten in the east. But the sun wasn’t up yet. Not for another forty-two minutes.

  When it rose, it would be approximately in front of me. I had my sunglasses ready to go.

  Jessica was sitting next to me now, which seemed oddly weird; Leslie, across from her, wasn’t holding it against me. Not that I was holding anything against Chuck, for that matter; not that he was staying awake too well, either.

  ‘Hey,’ Jessica said, kicking him under the table, ‘Don’t fall asleep in here.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said, opening his eyes again, ‘Time is it now.’

  ‘Five twenty-six,’ I said.

  ‘The countdown,’ he clarified, ‘When’s the world end.’

  ‘Forty-one minutes!’ George called.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, turning toward George, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Thankalord!’

  ‘Right,’ Chuck said, starting to fall asleep again, ‘If I pass out: wake me up at about five minutes to go; I don’t wanna miss...whatever.’

  The hippies remained, possibly bec
ause they too wanted to be here to see what George was counting down toward. Hutch was still there because, really, it was Hutch: he wasn’t going anywhere else.

  And the wiccans still danced nakedly about, as clueless as anyone about George’s announcements, but less curious.

  Jessica was rolling silverware, casually watching the wiccans. ‘You think I should kick them out or something?’

  ‘You could,’ I said, ‘I’ve filmed them enough already.’

  ‘If Larry comes out and sees this,’ she said, ‘or if customers come in and see this...; hey! Morons! Put your clothes on and sit down!’

  ‘The wench beckons!’ Worf bellowed.

  ‘The wench tells you to get dressed or get out,’ Jessica said, getting up and walking over to them, ‘Now.’

  ‘The world isn’t meant for clothes!’ Sybil whimpered.

  ‘But this restaurant is,’ Jessica said, ‘So cut it out and act—’

  ‘Normal?’ asked BB, ‘You’re forcing normalcy upon us?’

  ‘I’m forcing policy upon you,’ Jessica said, ‘Now. Or I’m calling the police.’

  ‘Police are so negative,’ Mary said, ‘Join us and be free!’

  ‘I did that already,’ Jessica said, ‘Then I got better.’

  ‘Forty minutes!’

  ‘You’re probably counting down to me losing my job,’ Jessica said to George, ‘Aren’tcha.’

  ‘We cannot be restrained!’ Worf bellowed.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jessica said, ‘Okay. You know what?’ She turned to me, ‘Wanna film something?’

  ‘You gonna flash the camera?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘But not right now. Roll’em.’

  I got out my phone and started filming. ‘Okay: go.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jessica said, ‘For the record: I’m officially telling these dancing fucking morons—can you edit that out? Or can I just start—yeah? For the record: I’m officially telling these dancing morons to get dressed, immediately, and sit down before I call the police. I just want that to be understood, while I’m on my way to the phone, in case my manager stumbles in here and sees this before I can get it taken care of.’

  ‘The manager would hate this,’ I agreed, ‘These twerps constitute undercooked meat.’

  ‘Okay: I’m done,’ Jessica said, ‘I’ll flash you again later. Are you still filming?’

  I killed the recording. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Is that thing timestamped?’ she asked, ‘Can I just sit down and pretend I did that three seconds before Larry walks in here?’