I Hate Everyone, Except You(17)

Lisa had been correct. Meredith was working, but not the register as she usually did. She was at the griddle, so she didn’t notice us when we got in line to order. She took her job of flipping burgers very seriously, and her manager, a nervous-looking man of around thirty, was flitting around nearby.

“What do you think of that guy?” asked Lisa, referring to the manager.

“He looks like a rapist,” I said. “Why?”

Lisa let out a snort. “Awesome. Meredith has the hots for him.”

“Gross. He’s so old.”

“I know, right? I wouldn’t be surprised if she lost the big V to him.”

“No way,” I said. “Meredith will be a virgin until her wedding night.”

“Oh, please. Nobody waits that long anymore.”

“I’m going to,” I said.

“That’s so romantic.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “If you ask me, they should do it over there on the salad bar, right between the croutons and the shredded carrots.”

“That doesn’t seem very hygienic. Or comfortable. What’s his name?” I asked.

“Mark. As in Mark my word, he’s gonna pop her cherry tomato.”

My laugh caught Meredith’s attention. She must have been able to sense our mood because she shot us a look that threatened retribution for any behavior that might embarrass her, which Lisa took as a challenge, of course. When we ordered our food from the cashier, whom we did not know, Lisa asked to speak to the manager. The cashier grabbed Mark by the elbow, and Meredith glared at us. Mark hung a basket of French fries to drain and approached the counter.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lisa said. “I was wondering, is the bleu cheese fresh?”

“Is it fresh?” Evidently, it was not a question he received often.

“Yes, fresh.”

He spoke as one might to an eight-year-old. “It’s salad dressing. And it comes in a large plastic tub.”

“Thank you,” Lisa said, “I will take that into consideration.” Mark returned to salting his fries.

After I paid for lunch, we sat at a table by the window, not far from the salad bar. I scarfed down my chicken sandwich and saw Meredith enter the dining room through the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY behind Lisa. “Uh-oh,” I said. “She looks pissed.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Lisa stated.

Mark must have put Meredith on tray duty because she began to tidy the empty tables around us. She wouldn’t look in our direction, and I couldn’t blame her. We followed her with our eyes. Once she had a few trays stacked in her hands, she passed by our table.

“You guys are such assholes,” she said.

“I didn’t do anything,” I blurted, as she made her way back to the kitchen.

“You are such a pussy,” Lisa said to me, through a bite of half-chewed hamburger.

I shrugged. Maybe I was. I felt bad for laughing at Meredith’s expense, but I was also kind of hurt that she had a secret crush she had only shared with Lisa. We were a trio. If I had been a girl, Meredith would have told me too.

We finished lunch in relative silence, and I dropped Lisa off at home. I gave her my house key and told her I’d be home around midnight. I went home, entering through the garage, and put the porno in my dresser beneath my underwear, just in case there was an emergency and my parents came home while I was gone. I couldn’t have Caddy Shack Up lying on the kitchen counter. I also took a bottle of champagne, one of the many Mike’s clients had given him around Christmas, from the back of the liquor cabinet and put it in the refrigerator. Mike and Terri would never miss it. I had never seen them drink champagne in the seven or so years they had been together.

*

Work was uneventful, just the usual filling of water glasses, folding of napkins, clearing of tables, setting of tables, emptying of ashtrays. I was actually an excellent busboy. The restaurant had recently held a competition for head busboy, which I won, so I made an extra dollar per hour and got the busiest stations, the ones with the best view of the harbor outside. The waitresses all liked me because if I ever saw them so much as lift an empty plate, I would swoop in and finish the job. If they told me table 12 needed more breadsticks, I was on it like fire. They were obligated to give me 15 percent of their tips, but most gave me 20. Occasionally a diner, usually a man on a date with a woman, would tip me directly, thanking me for taking good care of them. I loved that job. It was the one place I felt I was truly popular.

I returned home around twelve thirty to see Lisa’s car in the driveway.

“This dog has been scaring the crap out of me,” she announced when I walked in the door. She was sitting downstairs in our den watching TV with Noel on her lap. “She’s been growling at every little noise outside. I thought someone was out there trying to kill us.”

“She’s a pain in the ass like that,” I said. “Last weekend I barely slept because she was barking at the bedroom window at three a.m. Lhasas were imperial guard dogs in Tibet or some shit like that.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, dork. Where’s the movie?”

“In my underwear drawer. Can you get the champagne out of the fridge? I’ll set up the movie.”

Lisa went up to the kitchen, and I rushed upstairs to change out of my uniform into jeans and a polo shirt. Soon, she came downstairs with the bottle and three brown ceramic coffee mugs, one of which was to be used as an ashtray. We were one of the first families on our block to have a big-screen TV, which was housed in a giant wooden cabinet that took up half the room. As she poured us each a mug of champagne, I put the video in the VCR and hit PLAY on the remote.