maybe she
wouldn’t.
Cindy wasn’t pounding it down, she was just
sipping, but they were big sips. She wanted to leave, but she would
be damned if she was going to leave four dollars and fifty cents of
hard earned cash with a bitchy cocktail waitress.
“How’s it going?”
She turned, expecting to look into Tony’s
eyes, but instead found herself looking at a class A Lounge Lizard.
He wore an open collar shirt, the top four buttons undone, exposing
what looked like wall-to-wall carpeting. Tight, iridescent slacks
with a large brass buckle and cowboy boots she couldn’t help but
notice since he’d placed one on the seat next to her. His orange
tinted glasses were bifocals, with very large steel frames. He had
a pencil line mustache. If he’d had hair Cindy figured it would be
combed back in a sort of bouffant style from the 1960s.
It was at that moment that the Neil Diamond
impersonator opened his act, launching into a rendition of “Cracklin’ Rosie” . The Lounge Lizard began snapping his
fingers, bouncing to the beat.
“Yeah baby, yeah, come on, Sugar what do you
say?” he yelled at Cindy over Neil’s alter ego, taking a step back
waiting for her to fly out of the booth.
“Come on sugar, let’s shake that thing,” he
spun round in front of the booth as she sat dumbfounded. “Yeah,
let’s go, baby!”
That was enough. She wasn’t going to wait all
night looking for all the world like an hor d’orve for some sexual
feeding frenzy. She drained her wine glass, gathered her purse and
was sliding out of the booth just as Merlot slid in alongside of
her.
“Sorry that took so long, things just got
crazy.” He looked at her empty glass. “You should have ordered from
one of the girls,” he said and waved to “bitchy” still standing at
the bar hoping to pocket Cindy’s change.
Cindy thought she could lip-read a reaction
when the woman looked up and saw who had joined her in the booth.
The dancing Lounge Lizard was suddenly nowhere in sight.
“Heidi,” Merlot said to “bitchy”, “I’ll just
have a Coke, and,” he looked at Cindy.
“Ahh, ma’am,” Heidi smiled weakly, a hint of
terror in her eyes.
“The same, please.”
“A Coke?” asked Merlot.
“A merlot?” asked Heidi, simultaneously.
“The merlot. Oh, and then you were going to
get me that change,” Cindy smiled icily into Heidi’s wide eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” Heidi assured them.
“So, sorry about that, just a little headache
in the dining room, actually the right kind of problem. We just
overbooked and didn’t have quite enough tables. It’s all taken care
of,” Merlot said, casting an eye across a sea of baby boomers
dancing to Neil Diamond tunes.
“So, how would you feel about dining in an
exclusive part of the operation tonight?” he asked.
“Here we go,” Heidi said returning with the
Coke and glass of wine in Olympic-record time.
“Your wine ma’am, and your change,” she said
making eye contact with Cindy as she slid a crisp ten-dollar bill
across the table.
“Thank you,” Cindy replied then turned to
give Merlot her undivided attention.
“The dining room is full and will be for a
while, like I said, the right kind of problem,” he half lied, not
wanting to take the chance of having to talk with Osborne any more
than necessary.
“I was thinking, if you wouldn’t mind, we
could dine in my office. It would be private, the service will
still be good, and the food excellent. Plus, it will give me a
chance to get away from all this, and have an uninterrupted
conversation with you. I feel like, well, between me running around
tonight and what was your friend’s name, Kari?”
“Karen,” corrected Cindy.
“Yeah, well either way, I feel like we
haven’t talked and, to tell you the truth, as long as I’m out here,
they’re going to keep calling me.”
“Your office sounds wonderful,” Cindy said,
envisioning candlelight and personal waitstaff.
It took them fifteen minutes to
wouldn’t.
Cindy wasn’t pounding it down, she was just
sipping, but they were big sips. She wanted to leave, but she would
be damned if she was going to leave four dollars and fifty cents of
hard earned cash with a bitchy cocktail waitress.
“How’s it going?”
She turned, expecting to look into Tony’s
eyes, but instead found herself looking at a class A Lounge Lizard.
He wore an open collar shirt, the top four buttons undone, exposing
what looked like wall-to-wall carpeting. Tight, iridescent slacks
with a large brass buckle and cowboy boots she couldn’t help but
notice since he’d placed one on the seat next to her. His orange
tinted glasses were bifocals, with very large steel frames. He had
a pencil line mustache. If he’d had hair Cindy figured it would be
combed back in a sort of bouffant style from the 1960s.
It was at that moment that the Neil Diamond
impersonator opened his act, launching into a rendition of “Cracklin’ Rosie” . The Lounge Lizard began snapping his
fingers, bouncing to the beat.
“Yeah baby, yeah, come on, Sugar what do you
say?” he yelled at Cindy over Neil’s alter ego, taking a step back
waiting for her to fly out of the booth.
“Come on sugar, let’s shake that thing,” he
spun round in front of the booth as she sat dumbfounded. “Yeah,
let’s go, baby!”
That was enough. She wasn’t going to wait all
night looking for all the world like an hor d’orve for some sexual
feeding frenzy. She drained her wine glass, gathered her purse and
was sliding out of the booth just as Merlot slid in alongside of
her.
“Sorry that took so long, things just got
crazy.” He looked at her empty glass. “You should have ordered from
one of the girls,” he said and waved to “bitchy” still standing at
the bar hoping to pocket Cindy’s change.
Cindy thought she could lip-read a reaction
when the woman looked up and saw who had joined her in the booth.
The dancing Lounge Lizard was suddenly nowhere in sight.
“Heidi,” Merlot said to “bitchy”, “I’ll just
have a Coke, and,” he looked at Cindy.
“Ahh, ma’am,” Heidi smiled weakly, a hint of
terror in her eyes.
“The same, please.”
“A Coke?” asked Merlot.
“A merlot?” asked Heidi, simultaneously.
“The merlot. Oh, and then you were going to
get me that change,” Cindy smiled icily into Heidi’s wide eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” Heidi assured them.
“So, sorry about that, just a little headache
in the dining room, actually the right kind of problem. We just
overbooked and didn’t have quite enough tables. It’s all taken care
of,” Merlot said, casting an eye across a sea of baby boomers
dancing to Neil Diamond tunes.
“So, how would you feel about dining in an
exclusive part of the operation tonight?” he asked.
“Here we go,” Heidi said returning with the
Coke and glass of wine in Olympic-record time.
“Your wine ma’am, and your change,” she said
making eye contact with Cindy as she slid a crisp ten-dollar bill
across the table.
“Thank you,” Cindy replied then turned to
give Merlot her undivided attention.
“The dining room is full and will be for a
while, like I said, the right kind of problem,” he half lied, not
wanting to take the chance of having to talk with Osborne any more
than necessary.
“I was thinking, if you wouldn’t mind, we
could dine in my office. It would be private, the service will
still be good, and the food excellent. Plus, it will give me a
chance to get away from all this, and have an uninterrupted
conversation with you. I feel like, well, between me running around
tonight and what was your friend’s name, Kari?”
“Karen,” corrected Cindy.
“Yeah, well either way, I feel like we
haven’t talked and, to tell you the truth, as long as I’m out here,
they’re going to keep calling me.”
“Your office sounds wonderful,” Cindy said,
envisioning candlelight and personal waitstaff.
It took them fifteen minutes to
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