Mel turned, her Guinness pins clacking loudly together as she spun.
“I have a question,” one of the guys said. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Okay.”
“Do you have a liquor license?”
She stood there, baffled by the question (the answer was obviously yes since they had a bar there). Then she suddenly realized that two of them were from the day at the lake. Obviously these were the guys who tripped Parker. They were all leering at her.
“Liq … uor license,” the guy said slowly, with a very deliberate pause in the middle of the word. “Don’t you have one of those?”
Mel stared at him for a second, sounding out the syllables in her head. She shuddered as the meaning sank in. A deep feeling of disgust and shame spread all over her, making her body cold and turning her stomach. This was one of those times she needed to be Avery—she would kill these guys. It wouldn’t matter to her that she was an employee here and that confronting these assholes might jeopardize her job. But she wasn’t Avery; she was Mel. Mel never had the right thing to say, and she did care that she was a waitress. Never in her life had she felt so useless and small.
She turned around, forgetting about the seltzer, and went straight back to the pantry. The table broke into riotous laughter.
Parker was standing next to one of the huge plastic trash cans, still trying to clean himself off. She came up on the other side of it and looked at him.
“What?” he said.
Mel couldn’t answer. She could only shiver in anger and embarrassment. Parker stopped what he was doing.
“Did they say something to you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What did they say?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t repeat it. It was vile. They had tried to make her disgusting. Parker stopped what he was doing for a minute and leaned over the trash.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can’t blame them for being inbred.”
“I know.”
Two of the bussers came in with dishpans full of the remnants of the accident. Mel moved aside so that they could get in. They threw Parker up-and-down glances as they dropped off their load onto the dirty dish cart. Mel looked down at the pile of broken food bits and trash.
The idea came to her instantly. It was unlike any impulse she’d ever had, but the circumstances fueled her. She grabbed a plate from the prep rack and slammed it down on the counter. Pulling over the dish cart, she managed to recover a few chunks of nacho that were still glued together by the cheese. Using a spoon, she scooped out some of the topping that was sitting in a puddle of brown liquid (most likely Coke).
“What are you doing?” Parker said, coming up behind her and watching over her shoulder.
“Get me those chips you just put in the trash,” she said.
From a rack of dirty dishes she cobbled together portions of guacamole and sour cream. Parker added in the trash chips. Together they quickly did an artistic arrangement of the pile, and they managed to turn it into a very convincing order of Irish nachos.
“We need something else,” she said. “Something really hideous.”
“Hideous,” Parker said, looking around. “That shouldn’t be hard.”
He picked up the dish cart and tilted it slightly, examining its contents.
“Here we go,” he said, pouring some brownish liquid that had accumulated at the bottom onto the nachos. “Special sauce.”
“Perfect,” Mel said, smiling.
They nuked it for a few seconds to bring it back up to temperature. They decorated the edges of the plate with some shredded lettuce remnants that sat in the bottom of a bin in the corner, waiting to be disposed of.
When another server came into the pantry, Mel grabbed her by the sleeve and threw her a pathetic look.
“I’m stuck here for a minute,” she said. “Can you do me a favor? Take this out to 27, that table full of guys? Tell them it’s compliments of Mortimer’s because of the accident.”
They watched the Franken-nachos making their way out to the infamous table.
“You have responded to my brainwashing excellently,” Parker said with a smirk. Then he looked at Mel with a sense of genuine pride. “I am deeply impressed.”
Parker waited around for Mel to finish her shift since he was driving her home. After the nachos he felt much better about the whole thing and made up songs about silverware (a tune called “My Name Is Spoony McForkenknife” was her favorite) as he did his side work. They were both surprised to see Nina’s car waiting in the parking lot when they came out.
“Can I tell her about the nachos?” Mel asked. “I swear I’ll leave out the other part.”
Before Parker could answer, Nina opened her car door and stepped out. The nachos were temporarily forgotten.
“Your hair,” Mel said.
Nina reached up and grabbed at a handful of what remained of her locks, running it through her fist.
Parker seemed transfixed by Nina’s new diva look. It took him a moment to remember that he was covered in food stains. He stuck his hands in his pockets and drew his coat tightly around himself in a sudden, batlike gesture.
“Hey” Nina said. She looked like she was trying to smile, but the smile quickly turned into a grimace. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Nina’s voice was breaking. Parker shot a glance in Mel’s direction.
“What is it?” Mel asked.
Nina just shook her head and started crying. She turned and put her face against the car window. Mel hurried up behind her and took her by the shoulders.
“Tell me,” she said.
Nina couldn’t answer.
“Did you talk to him?” Mel asked quietly.
Nina nodded. Mel put her arms around her.
Parker stood a few feet away, watching it all, now and then stepping a foot closer or a foot back. Finally he backed up and retreated toward his car. Mel and Nina stayed there for quite a while as customers came and went.
Valentine’s Day
35
The S thief had gone out of his way to mark Valentine’s Day. Instead of HAVE A HEART: GIVE BLOOD FOR VALENTINE’S DAY DANCE THIS SATURDAY, the sign now read: RUN: MUTANTS INSIDE. The M was made of two inverted Vs.
Parker nodded to it as he and Mel pulled into the parking lot.
“It’s a work of genius,” he said. “And it’s accurate.”
“Are you finally going to do something tonight?” Mel asked as Parker brought the Roach to an abrupt stop. The car coughed and sputtered a few times before shutting itself off. Mel was used to this from the many times Parker had driven her home and found the shuddering rhythm of the engine soothing now.
“Yes,” he answered.
“You’re going to ask Nina to dance?”
“No. Tonight is the night I cure cancer.”
Mel looked at him sourly.
“That’s something,” he said. “You weren’t specific enough.”
“This whole Steve thing has been bad, really bad. And she hated doing this.” Mel pointed at the outside of the gym in an accusatory fashion. “Getting ready for Valentine’s Day has been the worst.”
“That’s because Valentine’s Day sucks ass.”
“She likes you, so tell her you like her. Make it suck less.”
Parker shook his head.
“No one can do that,” he said sagely. “Not even the president, or Gandalf, or anybody.”
Nina was at a table by the gym door when they arrived, selling heart-shaped tickets. She was wearing a delicate white blouse with raised dots, a gracefully formfitting red skirt, and a pair of low, deep red heels. Her hair was artfully teased out, and she had a faint glimmer high on her cheekbones.
Even though she looked beautiful, Nina also had that slightly sickly air she’d had for weeks. Mel knew that even though she tried to keep up her chipper attitude, Nina hadn’t been sleeping or eating much. Her face had thinned out, making hollows in her cheeks and un
der her eyes. That was probably what she was trying to hide with the glittery makeup.
“Hey,” Nina said, seeing them come in. “You guys look great.”
Mel looked down at herself. She was dressed in a fairly bland pink shirt and a brown corduroy skirt. Parker was wearing a pair of khakis that seemed unfamiliar and a little dressier and thinner than his normal pants. The shirt was definitely new—it was white with narrow blue stripes.
“Did you buy an outfit for this?” Mel asked as soon as they were out of Nina’s earshot.
Parker let out a strange hmmm sound and surveyed the room, squinting a bit.
They took seats high up on the bleachers, in an unclaimed corner. A DJ was playing while the band set up. A group of manic sophomore girls were dancing close to the stage, but otherwise people were clinging to the sides of the room.
Parker stretched himself out over a few levels of the bleachers and examined his belt. He pulled on the edge of his shirt and asked, “Which way says ‘jerkoff,’ in or out?”
“I like it the way it is.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Why don’t you just ask her, Park?”
“Ask her … for a light? Ask her … a pointed question?”
“Fine,” Mel said. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“No,” he said, grabbing her arm. “I know what happens in girls’ bathrooms. They’re like black holes. You’ll never come back.”
“So figure out something to do.” Mel stood up. “Mingle. Turn on your charm.”
“Where’s the switch?”
“Let Nina find the switch,” Mel replied with a grin.
Parker licked his finger and marked an imaginary point in the air.
“You aren’t supposed to make jokes like that,” he told her, shaking his head. “Bad lesbian. No Indigo Girls for you.”
“Who?”
“Oh God.” Parker clutched his head. “Just go. Go before someone hears you.”
In the four years of its existence, a dozen or more people had passed through Angry Maxwell’s ranks and gone on to form other bands—bands that sometimes got the gigs Angry Maxwell could have tried for, if Gaz and Hareth had ever gotten their shit together and found their way out of Gaz’s basement.
Ex-guitarist Margo had teamed up with ex-guitarist Mike and ex-bassist Fran The Guy (there was a Fran The Girl at one point). They’d found a drummer, formed The Militant Nobodies, and landed the Valentine’s Day dance gig in the same amount of time that it usually took Angry Maxwell to decide whether or not they were going to hit Taco Bell before or after practice. Gaz, who didn’t seem troubled by the fact that his former bandmates were happily forming other bands and getting gigs, insisted on coming by to see them play.
Even though she knew Nina would be there, Avery had assumed that the dance would be big and dark enough that she wouldn’t be noticed. She was actually kind of startled when she saw Nina at the front table. Nina looked at her, then at Gaz. She sold Avery her ticket in the perky, polite manner she reserved for people she didn’t know that well.
This put Avery in a foul mood, which was only worsened by the fact that The Militant Nobodies actually turned out to be good. Margo, much to Avery’s surprise, actually sang as well, in a Chrissie-Hynde-meets-Liz-Phair kind of voice. They only did covers, but they were well-chosen covers, played well enough to actually peel people off the walls and get them milling around in a rhythmic way.
“This is what we should be doing,” Avery said as they paused between songs.
“What?”
“We could have played this.”
“We’re playing at that bar,” Gaz said.
“We’re allowed to have more than one gig. Most bands do.” There was an edge in Avery’s voice that she did nothing to hide. Sometimes her dissatisfaction with Gaz was profound. He could be nice to the point of being useless. Rather than start an argument, Avery just went to the bathroom.
It was strangely fitting that she ran into Mel almost immediately, right in the bathroom doorway. Mel stared at her, wide-eyed. She almost looked like she was going to run for cover and hide in one of the stalls. She looked pretty … total Mel. Her hair was down, and it tumbled over her shoulders in that ridiculously perfect and unintentional way.
“Hey,” Avery said. She spoke in a soft voice. She didn’t want to spook Mel.
“Hey.”
Well, Mel didn’t turn and run. That was a good start.
“What’s going on?”
Mel looked around her, as if trying to account for her time in the bathroom. Then she shrugged. But she was still there, still in front of Avery. This was a good sign.
“You want to talk?” Avery asked.
“I guess,” Mel said.
“We could sit down.”
“Where?”
“We could find a place.”
Mel shrugged again. A “yes” shrug.
Avery walked down the hall, away from the bathroom and the gym. She scouted out the classrooms, testing doorknobs until she found an unlocked one. She heard Mel walking just behind her, and tried not to dwell on the fact that she had no script for what was about to happen. Not a clue.
Avery sat on the teacher’s desk. Mel took a seat. It was dim enough in the room that they could only see each other’s outlines, not their expressions. This was fine with Avery. She knew she had a wild, stunned look in her eye.
“So,” she said. “How’s Mortimer’s?”
“Okay.”
End of phase one of the conversation. Long, painful pause.
“This is kind of weird, huh?” Avery began again.
“Kind of.”
“I’m going to sit down there. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
Avery slipped down off the desk and took the seat next to Mel. Now she could see Mel’s face. Her eyes were wide, and she was mindlessly pulling on a loose strand of string coming off the bottom of her shirt. Avery could smell the watermelon shampoo aroma coming off her hair. Just this little hint of Mel stirred up all kinds of memories of the summer—some romantic, some just of work. Dumb things that felt huge.
“You hate me?” she asked.
Mel looked at her hands. Avery felt her heart sink.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s only fair.”
“I don’t.”
“No?”
“You’re my friend,” Mel said. “I can’t hate you.”
Avery felt her eyes tearing up, which was rare. But she couldn’t help it. She sniffed back hard, and the sound was unpleasant. “I was stupid,” she said. “I was scared.”
“Me too,” Mel said. “Scared. Sometimes.”
In that moment Avery had the idea. If Mel didn’t hate her, and she said she didn’t, they could get back together right now. Everybody had heard about the two of them anyway, and they were leaving school in three months, so who even cared anymore? Yeah, there were things missing with Mel, things she felt with Gaz that she didn’t feel when she kissed Mel. But there was so much missing with Gaz too. More important things, like being understood, having someone who just seemed to pick up where you left off. Avery could have all of that back if she just did something right now.
“Maybe we should get back together,” Avery said quickly.
Nothing from Mel for a moment.
“I think that’s a bad idea,” Mel finally said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not gay.”
“I’m something.”
“What are you, then?”
Avery didn’t have an answer. She turned around and faced the board. There was a homework assignment still on the corner: pages 50 to 100 of The Scarlet Letter. Avery would have laughed, but her throat was too dry.
“Maybe after a while it goes away,” Avery said. “Maybe you forget what it was like.”
“What what was like?”
“Kissing, all of that. Maybe we’ll just forget what it was like.”
“You think so?”
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“No.”
Avery felt Mel reach over and take her hand. She squeezed it hard, and Avery squeezed back. She could feel Mel’s pulse. All they had to do was come a few inches closer.
Then Mel let go, gently extracted her hand, and got up and left the room.
When Mel finally found him, Parker didn’t even mention that she’d been gone for over half an hour, which even for a trip to the girls’ bathroom was a little excessive.
“I need you to do me a favor,” he said. “I just called someone. Something’s going down….”
Parker stopped speaking and looked down into her face.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re all deer-in-the-headlights.”
“Everything’s fine.” Mel pushed a clump of hair over her right eye to partially mask herself. “What favor?”
“Did you want to stay here much longer?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, good. Okay. Can you say you’re feeling sick and ask Nina if you can take her car home? Make it something all feminine and gory so you can say that you didn’t want to ask me to take you because you were embarrassed.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I have something up my sleeve.”
“What?”
“Big secret. You’ll be happy, though. I’m finally doing something.”
“With Nina?”
Parker started bouncing around and doing a karate chop dance.
“Will you do it?” he asked.
“Sure,” Mel said. “I’ve kind of had enough anyway.”
36
A thin layer of snow had fallen and frozen solid while they were inside. Parker hacked at the coat of ice that had glazed over the windows of his Bug while Nina huddled in the front seat. It was freezing in the car, and she pined silently for the heated seats of her SUV.
Parker opened Nina’s door and leaned in. He had an icy residue all over his sleeves.
“Don’t put your purse on the floor,” he said. “Or any stuff.”
“Why?”
“There’s a hole in the floor on that side. Things fall out.”
Nina bent down and examined the floor by her feet and found the source of the wicked draft that was blowing up her skirt.
The Bermudez Triangle Page 20