How The Cookie Crumbles (8 page)

Chloë was a genius at academic stuff and could do scary things like public speaking, but she was very nervous around dating. In high school, she had been known to do odd things on first dates, like talk too much or start giggling nonstop. I figured it was because she was an only child, and she thought that guys were from some complex planet. If she had brothers like me, she would know that guys were a pretty simple recipe: take food, video games and sports stats, add a dash of burping/farting/grossness, plus some general idiocy and shake well.
Voilà,
a boy! There was a sex aspect too, but I wasn’t into connecting my bros and sex.

“Too late, I’ve already accepted my random date.”

“Frank! Both of us at the same time? And you didn’t use your free pass, so he must be nice. Tell me!”

“Well, to be completely honest, it may not even be a date, but I’m going to a birthday party for this customer.”

“A young guy?”

“No, a lady in her eighties, I think.”

“Frankie, that’s not a date for sure!”

“Not her, it’s her grandson, Liam! He’s perfectly gorgeous: tall, dark, handsome, perfect manners.”

“Oh.” Chloë sounded disappointed. “I thought you liked this Son of Cook guy. After all you did make cupcakes for him, even though it was a boiling hot night. And then we could double.”

“Did I not tell you the sequel to that? He didn’t even show up for the cupcakes! Total loser. And don’t worry, you’ll be fine on your date.”

“Maybe. Could you do that thing you did for me in high school?”

“Making up cue cards with discussion topics? Oh Chloë, you can handle these things by now.”

“You’re so good at this kind of thing: making small talk, making new people feel comfortable. I suck at it. Please!”

“You must really like this guy to make all this effort.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s just that my last few dates have not gone well and I’m starting to wonder if I’m cursed, that I’m too weird to date normal guys.”

“This guy, Andrew, already likes you, he’s got a crush on you, you hold all the cards here.” I looked at Chloë’s worried face, and then nodded. “Okay, I’ll help you. Anyway, you’re going to a concert, hardly any conversation will be needed. If you want to double on your second date, I’ll do it with you.”

She smiled happily. “I knew I could count on you Frankie!”

“Whatever, let’s eat.”

The next day was Thursday and I went into the gym in at noon to deliver a lunch order. Brad was doing a special training session with Jake, and a few other guys. They were all big and athletic-looking (except Jake, of course) and I suspected they were all hockey players since their athletic gear seemed to have various hockey logos. Jake was doing chin-ups and I was shocked to see he was struggling after five, and had to be assisted. He noticed me watching and said hi.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked him with eyebrows raised.

“What? Like you could do better?” Jake was slightly offended.

“A five-year-old girl could do better.”

“But you’re not a five-year-old girl, Frankie. So, how about a bet?”

“If you want to hand me money, fine.”

“Okay, $20 says you can’t do more chin-ups than me.”

“Would that be the unassisted kind, or the ones that Brad was lifting you up for?”

“Funny lady. We’ll go side by side.”

“Yeah, but not now. I’m working and I’m not exactly dressed for this.” I motioned to the black and white striped sheath dress I was wearing.

“Oh, this won’t take long, and I’ll take care of the clothing.”

Jake walked out to the lobby and Brad shook his head at me. “You’re distracting him, and believe me that doesn’t take much.”

Jake came back with some clothes and handed them to me. “My treat, Frankie,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks.” I grabbed the stuff and headed for the change room. With Jake’s odd sense of humour I should have known something was up. I looked in the mirror and all he had given me was a white sports bra-top and black shorts, both of which were at least a size smaller than what I would usually wear. I had major cleavage, you could see my stomach sticking out, and the shorts were very short. Ugh. I was very confident when fully dressed, but less so when half-naked. I stuck my head out the door and called out, “Um, are there gym clothes in a bigger size and maybe a t-shirt?”

Jake smirked at me. “Sorry Frankie, there’s not a big selection here and you need to stop stalling. You’re working and Brad’s on the clock here.”

I walked out with bare feet and not enough clothes. All his buddies were gathered around the bars now, joking around and ready for the big chin-up-off. I would have felt a lot better with a big t-shirt on, but I knew I could do more than five chin-ups, for crying out loud.

“Frankie, you look very… fit,” commented Jake his gaze zigzagging between my breasts, my tummy and my legs.

“If you actually care about this bet, you should be looking at my arms.” I told him coldly. I stretched gently to warm up and Jake watched me, grinning.

Brad took over, giving us directions on when we were going to start and what constituted a full chin-up.

Since it was set at a guy’s height, I needed a boost to get up to the bar. All four guys volunteered to help, but I asked Brad to do it for me. And then we went. For the first six, we were pretty even and then predictably, Jake started to falter a bit, but his macho pride kept him going. By eight he was dead, so I did two more to make it an even ten and to show off, then I hopped off. My arms were aching, but I didn’t let on.

The other guys were teasing him about being beaten by a girl, but Jake just laughed, he never seemed to take anything seriously.

“Congratulations Frankie,” he told me, still not looking at my face. “My wallet’s in my locker right now, so I’ll have to pay you later.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you,” I told him, leaving to get changed. Elaine was going to be wondering where I was. I got back into my dress and when I walked through the front lobby I was unsurprised to see a full selection of gym clothes and t-shirts in all sizes.

Jake

“Cookie! You total wuss! That chick beat you at chin-ups?” Arnie Roden was laughing his ass off at me. Ratty played for the Jets, and we knew each other from way back in minor hockey. A couple of other guys were here too, Vern Millington and Peter Glusk, Milly played U.S college and Glusky played AHL. We all came back to Kingston in the off-season and Brad liked to get us together for the occasional workout, to spur some competition.

“Fuck off, Ratty! I let her win,” I laughed. Who cared who won, when I got to see her in only shorts and a sports bra? Frankie’s body was so fucking hot it practically gave me a hard-on just watching her straining to lift her body up and down with her tits popping out.

“I’d let her do a lot of things to me,” Glusky laughed nastily. “She’s a smoke show! What’s her name again?”

“Hands off, Glusky,” I warned him. “She’s with me.”

“Really?” Ratty asked, “You? Because she really didn’t seemed all that impressed with you.”

“Women. They like to play hard to get,” I said, shrugging. I figured that Frankie was warming up, slow but sure. Now I owed her $20, so we’d have to chat some more. One thing would lead to another, and next thing you know, we’d be getting it on. And that would be pretty fucking sweet. I wondered what she’d be like when she….

“Cookson! Let’s get back to work here,” Brad warned me. “There’s a time for your social life and there’s a time for working out. Right now, it’s time to work out!”

12. For Good Times, Tap The Keg

On Friday night, I was working at The Keg. Waitressing turned out to be pretty much the same here, right down to the Squirrel order system we used. But one big difference was the clothing we had to wear. When I first tried on my “uniform” I had had a meltdown at home.

“Oh my God!” I moaned to Chloë, “I look like a cross-dressing midget!”

Unlike Earl’s where you wore your own clothes as long as the top was white and the skirt was black, The Keg issued white shirts and ties, which you paired with black pants. The same outfit for guys and girls, so I guess I should give them points for equality, but had they not realized that guys and girls were built differently?

Now since I was short and curvy, I always compensated with nipped-in waistlines and high heels, and I had cultivated a flattering work look. However, in this outfit I looked squat and masculine, which was not going to wind up in big tips.

Chloë giggled, then stopped when she saw my miserable expression. “Don’t worry, Frank, we can fix this.”

“How?” I asked in my most pitiful voice. I’d never liked the menswear look, and now I had to wear it every time I worked. Chloë pulled out her sewing kit.

“We’ll just take in the blouse around the waist,” she pinned as she spoke, “And with a pair of slim black pants that taper at the ankle, your figure will reappear. Or you could wear some high-waisted pants that fit at the butt, with heels for a longer leg look.”

“I love you, Chlo!” I declared. She was making me feel so much better. By the time she was done, I looked fine. Not hot, but not like a short guy either.

On Friday at The Keg, my evening started out badly, three tables in a row with lots of kids. I like kids, but trying to accommodate all the special requests that had to be ready immediately and then the extra cleaning up afterwards, had me a little frazzled. Then to top things off, good old Jake walked in with his date, a pretty redhead dressed in a shiny white top and tight jeans. Naturally, the hostess seated him in my section and I had to walk over and smile sweetly.

“Good evening, I’m Frankie and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Frankie! I didn’t know you worked here as well as the bakery.”

Something in Jake’s voice made me suspect that he did know and he was just needling me. It was like, “Hey, you don’t want to go out with me but other girls do.”

His date gave me a once-over and then smiled. I guess she realized that she was the one on the date with him and I was just a working stiff. Or perhaps it was my midget cross-dressing look. “I’d like a Keg Caesar,” she requested.

“I’ll just have a beer, Canadian please.” Jake was grinning at me. I guess he enjoyed the fact that I had to wait on him hand and foot.

“Okay, but I’ll have to see some ID,” I challenged him.

“Me? You’re ID’ing me? I haven’t been ID’ed in years.” Jake was indignant. “Plus you know I’m old enough.”

“How do I know that?” I asked him. “Anyone can grow facial hair.”

He sputtered a bit and then finally pulled out his wallet and flashed the same driver’s license that he used to show me his name. I examined it carefully and noted that either the weight was wrong, or he used to weigh a lot more before. Then smiling politely, I handed it back to him.

“Thank you so much, I hope you’re not offended but it’s just Ontario liquor laws. It’s flattering that you look so young.” This was a lie every which way, as I knew nothing about Ontario or its liquor laws, and in truth he looked about 30. I hadn’t asked for it, but his date actually had her ID all ready and handed it to me as well. I saw that Brittany Allison was two years older than him, and apparently not a natural redhead.

When I went to order their drinks at the bar, the assistant manager, Vince, came steaming over.

“Frankie, what the heck? Did you just ask Jake Cookson for ID?”

“Is that his name? He looked a little young to me,” I said calmly.

“What is wrong with you? He’s like an NHL superstar, he’s huge in this town, and you’re offending him. Do you not like your job here?”

“I don’t think he’s offended. I think he’s fine with it. Flattered, even.”

We both looked over at Jake. He and his date were smiling and chatting. Just then Jake looked over at us and I gave him a little finger wave, he raised an eyebrow and smiled back. “See.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ll comp his drinks and ask him if he’d prefer another waitress or waiter.” Vince grumbled.

“He wouldn’t,” Cherry piped up. She was a hostess tonight. “He asked to sit in Frankie’s section, otherwise I would have put him at Ten.” Ten was probably the nicest table in the place.

Vince looked at me suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t know his name.”

“We’ve run into each other at the gym. I didn’t know his last name. Now, if we’re done here, I’ve got tables to get to.” I put the beer and the Caesar on a tray and looked Vince straight in the eye.

He squinted at me and frowned. “Well, just make sure that Cookson has a great time tonight, don’t piss him off. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Judging from his lady friend, I think he’s having a great time already.” I replied.

Brittany had moved right up next to him and was running her hands over his meagre bicep, and Jake was yakking away. I walked over to interrupt and let them know the great news about the free drinks.