Riding With Brighton(47)
Shaw nods and smiles, and we follow him out of the bathroom. Brighton keeps poking his finger into my back and making that creepy eech-eech sound like a knife is repeatedly assaulting my guts. I try not to pee or cry.
We pile in next to Nico, and Brighton wraps his arm around me. I don’t think anything of it until the grungy dude at the next booth over gives me the ugliest stink-eye I’ve ever seen. I nod at him; I don’t know why. He sneers in return.
“I ordered you pancakes and bacon. I couldn’t wait anymore,” Molly tells us.
“Whatever,” Brighton says like she could have said, I ordered you a bowl of fingernails and a side of snot and that would have been fine.
“Whatever,” I agree with a smile because I totally get it.
“Ugh, you two are already sickening.”
“You should be happy for them,” Shaw tells her.
“Yeah, Molly, you should totally be happy for me and Jay Hall,” Brighton says.
I turn to look at him, and he gives me a quick kiss.
“Seriously… uuuggghh.”
Her protest is quickly one-upped by my new buddy in the neighboring booth. I hear the clatter of his plate and watch as he tries for a dramatic push-off-the-table stand, but his beer gut fucks up the flow. No matter, he gets himself out of there and comes to stand by us. Then he hocks a loogie on the floor.
“What the whaaa?” Nico says.
“You damn queers need to keep that sick shit in the closet where it belongs.”
I’m caught somewhere between shock and amusement when Molly stands up and goes toe-to-toe with the guy who’s got at least a hundred and fifty pounds on her tiny frame. “Listen, Billy Bob, we’ve already filled our fighting-off-fag-haters quota for the night, so why don’t you take your fat, pathetic, speed-loving, cobweb-covered-cocktail-wiener self back to your sad little cab and try to find something to wank off to other than a table full of kids, you sick pervert.”
He looks at her like he’s trying to decide if it’s okay to hit a girl, so I stand up and wrap an arm around her at the same time as Shaw, so now we’re holding her in some awkward threesome of an embrace.
The waitress comes over with our food and tells the guy to get lost while rolling her eyes. Clearly this isn’t her first rodeo.
“Freaks. All of you are creepy little freaks.” He turns and walks away.
“You’ve got some ketchup on your ass,” Molly calls after him.
I laugh as I climb back into the booth because he totally doesn’t, but she just made him look.
“Sorry about him,” the waitress says. “It’s refreshing to see some new faces around here. You can’t imagine the disgusting things I’ve seen from those men over the years.” She shakes her head and flares her nostrils like a hot fart just climbed in her nose.
“It’s okay,” Shaw tells her with a smile. When she’s gone he turns to Molly and says, “That guy’s life probably really sucks. Can you imagine how lonely that would be—just crisscrossing the country without anyone by your side.”
“Who cares?” she says, but by the less than fierce tone of her voice you can tell Shaw’s humanitarianism is getting to her.
“I just don’t think you needed to be so harsh. I mean, he is overweight and there is probably a good chance he does have an amphetamine addiction.”
“And for sure you were right on with the cobweb dick—that guy hasn’t gotten any for years—I can guarantee it,” Nico mumbles over his mouthful of waffles.
“All I’m saying,” Shaw cuts in, “is that it doesn’t do any good to stoop to his level. Or anyone’s level. Especially if they’re that coldhearted and ignorant. Hurting someone shouldn’t be a means of making yourself feel better.”
I’m eating a piece of bacon, watching Shaw and Molly like they’re my paid entertainment. It’s like I can see her shell being cracked in real time. “I know,” she admits, shocking the hell out of me, and Brighton too, based on the way he just choked on his water. “Shut up, Brighton,” she says.
“I didn’t say anything.” He grins.
She glares at him, then turns back to Shaw. “I’m judgmental and mean, I know that, okay? I’m trying to be less of a bitch, but you know what they say about old habits.”
“What do they say?” Nico asks.
Molly and Shaw give him baffled looks but don’t answer.
“You’re not mean, or a bitch,” Shaw tells her before kissing her temple. “I just don’t want you living in a world where everything looks ugly. I mean, in Billy Bob’s case it’s hard to see it any other way, but not all people are bad. Like that waitress for example—she was happy to see us, and she helped us out, you know? I just want you to see her too, and not just the bad people.”
She lets out a long breath and leans on his shoulder. “Okay,” she says, and her voice almost sounds nice. Maybe even sweet.
I’m smiling at them like a kid who just watched his parents decide they’re not getting the divorce after all. I’m tempted to clap. In fact, I have my hands raised when Molly gives me a “don’t you even think about letting your hands touch” look. The hands get the message and decide to cut up a pancake instead.
I look at Brighton. “They remind me a lot of us.”