Follow the link below to read part 5 of this short story.
short story: the comedian, part 5
Warning: The following includes adult language and sexual themes.
Junior went along with Mason to the show. Mason offered to drive this time to give his friend a chance to unwind properly. Having just heard about the food poisoning incident at another club, Mason suggested stopping for dinner on the way over. They agreed on a saloon style steakhouse that was a little out of the way, but Junior swore it was worth it.
Mason parked beside a red Prius with New York plates, exactly like Erica’s car. He felt a fleeting wash of panic come over him when he saw it but quickly reminded himself that her car was parked in the garage at home. He exhaled in relief.
Due to Junior’s “connections” – his words – they were seated fairly quickly for a Friday night. A server met them at the podium with menus in hand, greeted Junior by name, and motioned for them to follow her. She stopped at a booth overlooking the rear parking lot.
“Will this be alright?” she asked.
Both Mason and Junior nodded in approval and took a seat.
“We have a surf and turf special all weekend. A 6 oz filet and choice of grilled lobster tail or shrimp. It’s served with rice pilaf and choice of soup or salad for $29.99.” She paused and rested her hands atop a table tent advertisement for a local Italian bakery before continuing with the dessert special. It reminded Mason of the models on daytime television game shows. “If you like tiramisu, save room for our featured dessert. This wonderful bakery makes the best around. I’ll give you two some time to decide.”
Mason reached into the small, metal bucket on the table, pulled out a few peanuts, and began cracking them open as he glanced over the menu. Once he’d made up his mind, he scanned the parking lot and spotted an indigo blue Dodge Charger facing the restaurant and idling under a tree. It was a fairly new model with gunmetal gray stripes and so clean that it sparkled when the sun caught a glimpse of it through the swaying branches of its shady neighbor. The couple inside was already making out when Mason spotted them, engaged in a passionate embrace and kissing like one of them had just returned from war.
Any effort to avert his gaze quickly deteriorated when Mason noticed the female passenger push the driver back into his seat and disappear behind the dashboard. Mason watched, mouth agape, as her head bobbed rhythmically and slowly over her lover’s crotch before gradually picking up speed. The driver was relaxed in his seat, watching her perform. After a few seconds, he placed an open palm on the back of her head to help her with tempo then leaned back in his seat, to take delight in her work.
Finally aware of the bulging erection in his pants, Mason shifted in his seat, kicked Junior under the table, and pointed in the direction of the Charger.
“The Charger? I’ve seen it around. It’s a sweet ri–,” Junior stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of the couple. “Damn, son!”
Mason laughed, “You really know how to pick ’em, Junior.”
She had a southern accent. He noticed that right away.
Junior laughed then encouraged Mason to get back to the business of ordering, pointing towards the server who was headed their way with two glasses of water, a beer for Junior, and an order pad. She was a voluptuous redhead with bright green eyes. A few tiny freckles dotted her nose and cheeks which were pink from the sun. Definitely older than Mason… maybe even a little closer in age to Madison, who entered the world – by surprise – four years earlier than he. She had a southern accent. He noticed that right away. “Georgia, maybe,” he thought to himself, when she greeted them at the door. If she wore make-up, Mason couldn’t tell. Her hair was long and thick, and she had it secured in a high ponytail which protruded from the opening in the back of her hat, a baseball cap emblazoned with the name of the restaurant. “She must hate that,” Mason thought to himself. He observed her stained, disheveled uniform and assumed she was nearing the end of her shift, although you’d never know it by her disposition. She was upbeat and hospitable, and per the steer shaped name tag secured to her top, her name was Cat.
“Y’all need a few more minutes?” she asked.
Junior looked at Mason, “I’m ready if you are.”
“Sure,” Mason met Cat’s gaze and began his order, “I’ll just have a ribeye, well done, French fries, and do you have chili?”
“We do.”
“Chili instead of the salad. And whatever regular cola you have.”
“Ketchup or steak sauce?”
“Just ketchup.”
“Got it. Junior, your usual?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“My name’s Cat. Holler if y’all need anything.”
Cat took their menus, punched their order into a nearby computer kiosk, then disappeared momentarily before returning with condiments, Mason’s soda, and a basket of warm rolls drizzled with honey butter. Junior went in immediately, mumbling between bites about how addictive they were.
“They know your usual here?” Mason asked, reaching for a roll.
“Cat does. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We tried to get something going once, but it was like dating my sister. And she agreed. It sucks because she’s exactly my type.”
“She’s really pretty,” Mason added.
“Oh yeah. She’s beautiful. Inside and out.”
Cat returned to the table with Junior’s soup and Mason’s chili. Mason immediately began surveying the chili in front of him to find a reason to get her back to the table ahead of the entree.
“Do you have any jalapeños back there? The pickled kind?”
“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll be right back,” Cat responded and disappeared to the kitchen for Mason’s request. In addition to the jalapeños Mason probably wouldn’t finish, she also returned with a handful of napkins and beverage refills. “Damn, ” Mason thought, “Napkins were my next thing. She must be on to me.”
Mason crumbled up a package of crackers and poured them on top of his chili. “Chili confetti,” he thought to himself before addressing Junior again. “Man, she’s got her shit together.”
“Cat? Oh yeah. She’s been here for a long time. One of the first they hired when they built this place.”
Mason glanced back towards the Nissan, noticed it was empty, and pointed towards the car again to get Junior’s attention.
“I guess that was the appetizer,” Junior suggested. “They’re probably in here right now.” They both laughed and scanned the dining room but nobody seemed to be behaving as though they had just given or received oral sex in the parking lot. Eventually, they both concluded they had been seated in a different dining room.
“Bummer,” Mason thought. “I was hoping to get a better look at them.”
After the meal, they settled the bill with Cat, and she returned with their change and a punch in the arm for Junior.
“Ow. What was that for?”
“You didn’t introduce me to your friend, egghead.”
“Damn. I’m sorry. We were a little distracted by some parking lot shenanigans early on. I’ll tell you about it later. This is Mason. He’s just in town until Sunday. He already knows I’m a bad host.”
Mason spoke up in Junior’s defense, “He’s not a bad host. He’s just busy.”
“Here until Sunday, huh? You must be one of Junior’s comedian friends.”
“I am indeed,” Mason replied with a smile.
“Well, good luck tonight, sugar. It was nice meetin’ ya. I have to take off to pick up my kid from daycare. If y’all need anything else, Nick will be here to help you.”
“Wait,” Mason stopped her, “let me give you tip before you go.” He pulled out a $10 bill and gave it to her.
“This is a great tip. Thanks a bunch, sugar. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” Cat smiled, stepped away from the table, and punched out.
Mason followed her exit with his eyes. She began unloosening the strings of her apron before she rounded the corner and by the time she hit the asphalt parking lot, it and the hat were off… her long, wavy locks bouncing with each step she took. “I knew it…” he thought quietly to himself. “I knew she hated that thing.”
“She played you like a fiddle,” Junior said.
“Me? How do you mean?”
Junior laughed. “That whole ‘gotta get my kid from daycare’ song and dance she did. She uses that on everyone to try to get a big – CASH – tip on her way out the door. She says it works about 96% of the time. I doubt she’s ever actually done the math, but she gets everyone I bring here.”
“Wait… so she doesn’t have a kid?”
“Oh, she has a kid, but he ain’t in daycare no more,” Junior laughed. “She’s been doing it for as long as she’s been here. Back then, he was in daycare. But… seeing as it was paying off so well for her, she just kept it up after he started taking the bus home.”
“Interesting. I like her style.”
“She deserves that tip though. She puts up with a lot of shit from some of the patrons here.” Junior belched, then continued, “You ready? I need to take a piss first.”
“It’s a mystery why you two never worked out.”
“I’ll meet you at the car.” Junior laughed then left for the bathroom.
Mason finished what was left of his soda and exited the restaurant to see if he could spot Cat leaving, but she was long gone.
Featured image: “Peanuts” by Tojosan is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. Image licensor has not endorsed this content.