even look at me. I had brought dishonour upon his family and I guess the Greeks take that pretty seriously.
Mikey was sent to a Jesuit school in Ohio. He never spoke to me again. I don’t even know whether his family still live in New York. I’d really liked his mom; I guess she had felt pretty sorry for me when she found out I was an orphan. So, when it came to filling out the application form for the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts three years later, I figured that, if I were dying, she would overlook the fact that I’d got Mikey kicked out of school. I would sure prefer to have her by my bedside rather than Hartfelder, so that’s why I put down her name and address in the ‘emergency contact’ section of the application form.
VI
B ACK IN THE diner off of Interstate 15 I’d been making a few notes on the paper napkins, but I hadn’t written down all that stuff about Mikey and Belmont and all. For one, there’s no way it would have fit. And anyway, I didn’t really want to tell Special Agent Kramer about my getting kicked out of school. Though I hadn’t met him yet we’d spoken a few times on the phone and I’d really gotten to like him. I didn’t want him to think the worse of me. The notes were mostly stuff like the dates when I first got to the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts, the time I first met Ray Celador, basic stuff like that. The dates were mostly in my head but it was a good feeling to put them on paper.
I stared out of the window, watching the shadows grow longer. The diner was empty; it was getting on for dusk and I’d been sittingthere since before midday. I was also pretty hungry. I emptied the change from my pocket into my hand to count it underneath the table, then I looked over to try and catch the waitress’ eye. I had to keep looking for a while because she was concentrating on painting her nails on the stool by the cash register. When she did look up and saw me motion her over she looked kind of pissed. She stayed sitting for a while, waving her hand in the air and occasionally blowing on her nails. I thought maybe I should go order by the register.
As I was walking over I saw her whisper into the little Dictaphone. I’d forgotten about that. I got to the register and she handed it to me very delicately so as not to touch either me or the Dictaphone with her nails. I took it from her but paused for a moment. The warm afternoon light was coming sideways through the slatted aluminum window blinds and the shadows of the slats were curving themselves around her body. I couldn’t help noticing her breasts pressing against her t-shirt. There was the shadow of one slat bending around her forehead, and the shadow of the next crossing the bridge of her nose; her green eyes were caught in the orange light. She looked amused.
I pressed play.
‘Can I take your order?’
I pressed record and spoke into the Dictaphone: ‘I’d like a burger, please,’ then I returned it to her. She rewound the tape, listened to my voice and then nodded and turned to relay the order through a hole in the wall to the kitchen. I went back to my table and the waitress followed me with a large glass of water in her hand. She placed it on the table. As soon as I sat down my cellphone, which was lying next to the napkins on the table, started to ring. The waitress was closer to the phone than I was. She gave me a look, picked it up and answered.
‘Joe’s diner, can I help you?’ Then, after a pause, ‘Yes sir, I think so. Medium height? I think so. Kinda cute?’ With this she threw another look in my direction. ‘Here, lemme ask him.’
She whispered into the Dictaphone and passed it back to me. I pressed play again.
‘Do you know Special Agent Kramer? He’s on the phone.’
I nodded and grabbed my cell from her hand. ‘Sir?’ I said.
‘Yes, is that you Charlie? This is Special Agent Kramer.’
‘Yes sir, it is.’
‘Who’s the broad?’
‘She’s the waitress here. She picked up my
Mikey was sent to a Jesuit school in Ohio. He never spoke to me again. I don’t even know whether his family still live in New York. I’d really liked his mom; I guess she had felt pretty sorry for me when she found out I was an orphan. So, when it came to filling out the application form for the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts three years later, I figured that, if I were dying, she would overlook the fact that I’d got Mikey kicked out of school. I would sure prefer to have her by my bedside rather than Hartfelder, so that’s why I put down her name and address in the ‘emergency contact’ section of the application form.
VI
B ACK IN THE diner off of Interstate 15 I’d been making a few notes on the paper napkins, but I hadn’t written down all that stuff about Mikey and Belmont and all. For one, there’s no way it would have fit. And anyway, I didn’t really want to tell Special Agent Kramer about my getting kicked out of school. Though I hadn’t met him yet we’d spoken a few times on the phone and I’d really gotten to like him. I didn’t want him to think the worse of me. The notes were mostly stuff like the dates when I first got to the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts, the time I first met Ray Celador, basic stuff like that. The dates were mostly in my head but it was a good feeling to put them on paper.
I stared out of the window, watching the shadows grow longer. The diner was empty; it was getting on for dusk and I’d been sittingthere since before midday. I was also pretty hungry. I emptied the change from my pocket into my hand to count it underneath the table, then I looked over to try and catch the waitress’ eye. I had to keep looking for a while because she was concentrating on painting her nails on the stool by the cash register. When she did look up and saw me motion her over she looked kind of pissed. She stayed sitting for a while, waving her hand in the air and occasionally blowing on her nails. I thought maybe I should go order by the register.
As I was walking over I saw her whisper into the little Dictaphone. I’d forgotten about that. I got to the register and she handed it to me very delicately so as not to touch either me or the Dictaphone with her nails. I took it from her but paused for a moment. The warm afternoon light was coming sideways through the slatted aluminum window blinds and the shadows of the slats were curving themselves around her body. I couldn’t help noticing her breasts pressing against her t-shirt. There was the shadow of one slat bending around her forehead, and the shadow of the next crossing the bridge of her nose; her green eyes were caught in the orange light. She looked amused.
I pressed play.
‘Can I take your order?’
I pressed record and spoke into the Dictaphone: ‘I’d like a burger, please,’ then I returned it to her. She rewound the tape, listened to my voice and then nodded and turned to relay the order through a hole in the wall to the kitchen. I went back to my table and the waitress followed me with a large glass of water in her hand. She placed it on the table. As soon as I sat down my cellphone, which was lying next to the napkins on the table, started to ring. The waitress was closer to the phone than I was. She gave me a look, picked it up and answered.
‘Joe’s diner, can I help you?’ Then, after a pause, ‘Yes sir, I think so. Medium height? I think so. Kinda cute?’ With this she threw another look in my direction. ‘Here, lemme ask him.’
She whispered into the Dictaphone and passed it back to me. I pressed play again.
‘Do you know Special Agent Kramer? He’s on the phone.’
I nodded and grabbed my cell from her hand. ‘Sir?’ I said.
‘Yes, is that you Charlie? This is Special Agent Kramer.’
‘Yes sir, it is.’
‘Who’s the broad?’
‘She’s the waitress here. She picked up my
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