Riversong (11 page)

Lee stood up and put out her hand. “Today's my first day. I'm Lee.”

“I'm Cindi. That's with an ‘i’, not a ‘y’.” She looked Lee up and down. “You're a tiny little thing!” She looked over at Billy at the grill and chomped her gum faster. “Billy Baby, did Zac finally get rid of Deana?”

“No, Lee's a-”. He looked over at Lee. “What are you again?”

“I'm a consultant. Mike's hired me to come up with some new ideas for the restaurant.”

Billy turned back to the grill. “I just made her my specialty.”

Cindi winked at Lee. “He must like you.”

Billy turned pinker and scurried into the walk-in refrigerator.

Cindi put her bag on one of the hooks by the door. “Damn, I didn't know we was getting a consultant.” She glanced at the door to the dining room and lowered her voice. “This mean Zac won't be here as much?”

Lee took her plate over to the commercial dishwasher and stacked it onto a tray. “Maybe.”

Cindi sidled next to Lee and said into her ear. “He gonna focus full time on his other job?”

Before Lee could ask her what she meant, Zac came into the kitchen, dropped his empty plate on the counter, and washed his hands at the sink. “Deana called. She's not coming in.”

Cindi rolled her eyes and said under her breath. “Big surprise. It's Friday night.” She pointed at Zac's back and mouthed the words, “He's nailing her.”

Zac, still at the sink, dried his hands. “Lee'll cover for her.”

“Me?”

Zac turned from the sink. “Part of your consultant duties.” He pushed open the swinging door with his foot and glanced back at Lee. “I'll make sure to put that in your job description.”

Lee watched Cindi stack red plastic glasses in the shelves under the bar counter. Each time she leaned over to put another stack away, Lee got a waft of spearmint gum and cheap hairspray.

“Could you give me a synopsis of what I'm supposed to do tonight?” said Lee. “As you can probably tell, I have no clue.”

Cindi smiled and looked pleased. “I'm not sure what a synopsis is exactly but I'd be more than happy to show you the ropes. You got kind of the deer in the headlight look, but I've been doing this crap since before you was born, so you just stick with me.” Cindi spat her gum into a cocktail napkin, squirted diet soda from the tap into a cup and took a dainty sip. Her teeth protruded slightly and made Lee think of a bunny from a children's story. “Most weekends, there's two of us girls on the floor. We split the room in half unless one side's busier than the other.” She pulled a ticket book out of her apron pocket. “You'll need to write stuff down real fast so you write
ff
for french-fries,
rings
for onion rings and
nc
for nachos. That's most of the orders anyway.” She put another piece of gum in her mouth. “The most important thing to remember is Zac. He does nothing but get in our way and cause us more work, so the best thing to do is keep his beer glass full.” She pointed to where he sat with a group of women. “That's his normal table. He can get scary, so don't cross him.”

“Scary how?”

“Y'know, if he drinks too much he gets even meaner and starts slamming things around. Stuff like that. One time I saw him throw one of his girlfriends against the wall for bringing him the wrong beer. Broke her damn arm. You just never know what he's gonna do.” Cindi took a damp cloth and ran it across the top of the bar. “We got some regulars, especially on Fridays when the band plays.” She indicated two women at the table near the band equipment. “Them two come in every Friday night.” She scrubbed some dried ketchup off the surface of the bar. “School teachers. They have a thing for Tommy and baskets of fries. Did I mention we give one free refill on those?” She shook her head, whispering in Lee's ear. “They should lay off the fries if you know what I mean.”

Lee was about to ask how she kept track of refills, but didn't have the chance because Cindi talked without a pause. “Now the band. The singer. Gorgeous.” She said it in three elongated syllables. “He reminds me of that actor on ‘Law and Order’. Only not so serious. He opened an athletic center over behind the library for kids in trouble. The women are crazy for him. ‘Course there's not much to choose from around here. Not that it bothers me none. I got my own man at home.” She shook her head and lowered her voice in that way people do when they love to be the one in the know. “Between you and me, he pretty much came right out and told me he got hurt something fierce. People always tell me things, that's just the kind of person I am. Anyway, he acts like he could care less when the ladies throw themselves at him. Not that he likes boys or nothin' like that.” A group of boisterous men burst into the room, pushed two tables together and waved at Cindi and Lee.

“Go on, girl. I'll just watch from here but you call me over if you need anything.”

At the table, Lee handed out menus, grabbed the pencil from behind her ear and asked for their drink orders. The oldest of the bunch, gray beard, huge belly, clad in overalls spoke first. “You're new.”

She nodded and put her hand on her hip like she'd seen Cindi do. “Sure am.” She sounded stiff and fake, like the first time she'd said a curse word in junior high.

He raised his bushy eyebrows and looked around at his buddies. “We've never had a redhead before.” They all laughed.

She dropped her arm to her side. “What can I get you?”

A man at the end of the table wearing a baseball cap and an unshaven greasy face raised his hand. “You on the menu?” Again, they all laughed. Another glanced at her crotch. “You a real redhead?” he said.

Cindi appeared at Lee's elbow. “You boys behaving yourselves?” The way she stood, hands on hips, indulgent smirk, her voice a mixture of banter and authority, reminded Lee of a Madame at a whorehouse. And Lee was the sweaty, quaking, sacrificial virgin right before she went upstairs for her first night on the job.

The bearded ringleader put his hands up in the air. “Of course, Miss Cindi.”

“What can we get you then?” said Cindi.

“Beers. Couple of pitchers. Burgers all around. Get Billy to sneak us extra fries.”

Cindi nodded and shook her finger at him. “Not that you boys deserve it, but I'll see what I can do. You be good, or I'll be saying goodnight early.”

Lee carried the pitchers in one hand and six plastic beer mugs in the other. She wasn't sure what to put down first and the beer was heavy. The young greasy one got up and came around the table. “Let me help you.” He reached for the pitchers at the same time Lee moved to put them on the table. The pitchers slipped and beer spilled down Lee's front, causing her shirt to cling to her breasts.

The men stared, whooped and hollered. “Didn't know it was wet t-shirt night.” The table exploded with laughter, whistles and boot stamping. Cindi came to the table and they quieted.

“How much you boys drink before you got here? I have a right mind to cut you all off.” They all moaned. The greasy one slapped the table and another got down on his knees. “Please, Miss Cindi, it wasn't our fault.”

The bearded one stood. “We're sorry. We'll be good the rest of the night.”

There was more laughing and back slapping and Cindi whispered in her ear. “I have an extra shirt in my locker. I'll be right there.”

Lee ran to the kitchen, past Billy, and into the back area where there were several lockers. She sat on the chair. How will I make it through the rest of the night, she thought. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Cindi. “Now, listen, sugar, don't worry about it.” She opened her locker and handed Lee a shirt. “Take off your wet shirt and put this one on.” She grabbed an apron from one of the hooks. “Here, I forgot to tell you to put this on.”

“I don't know if I can do this.” Lee pulled the dry t-shirt over her head.

“Sure you can.” Cindi tied the apron on Lee and gave her a squeeze. “It's just beer and perverts.”

The back alley door opened and Zac strolled through the kitchen with a half smile on his face. He strode past them to his office and slammed the door shut.

Cindi clicked her tongue and her eyes were hard. “Bastard's gonna get us all killed.”

Billy's voice sang out from the grill. “Order up.”

Cindi helped her take the burgers out to the table. The men were finished with the first two pitchers and asked for more, but seemed to have forgotten the wet t-shirt contest.

The two school teachers waved her over and one of them put her plump hand on Lee's forearm. “You have any low fat cookies?”

“We have oatmeal chocolate chip. They looked kind of healthy.”

“We'll take three each.”

Tommy was at the microphone, guitar around his neck, when she came back to the table with the cookies. The two women leaned forward in their chairs, eyes in a school girl glaze, fixated on Tommy, the corners of their mouths lifted in shy smiles. Lee set the two oversized cookies on the table. The blond one grabbed the largest without taking her gaze off Tommy.

Tommy adjusted his guitar and spoke into the microphone, his voice and body fluid, relaxed. “Thanks for making it out tonight, even with the terrible weather. We're Los Fuegos. Got a couple of tunes to keep you entertained this evening. This first song I wrote myself.” He smiled at the school teachers. “You regulars will recognize it.”

The ladies giggled and clapped their hands together. Lee watched from the bar, fascinated but scornful of their adoration for this small town singer. She began to pour another pitcher of beer from the tap.

Then he sang.

Lee looked up from pouring the pitcher and stared. His voice was a melodic baritone, soulful and emotional, James Taylor mixed with Jackson Brown. There was something unusually frank in it, like you could hear into the place most people kept hidden. The song was a ballad, kind of folk and country mixed. He sang the chorus, eyes closed. “
See you in a stranger's gait, cry each time it isn't true, how I wonder where you wait, was heaven waiting there for you?”

Her scalp tingled and she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes.

“Are you in the blades of grass, are you the breeze of mountain air, do you swim with river bass, how I wish I saw you there.”

She looked down and realized she'd forgotten to let go of the beer spout and it overflowed onto the plastic pad and dripped to the floor. She pushed the spout shut and wiped the excess beer with the towel from the sink. Cindi came around the counter, grabbed Lee's hand and talked in an important, self-congratulatory way, like she was personally responsible for his talent. “Don't he sing like an angel? This song's about his dead brother. He lived in Nashville for a long time but never could make a deal. He says no one wanted to sign a Hispanic country singer. There was no ‘American Idol’ back then or I bet he would've won.”

Lee swallowed to rid the lump in her throat. “What's he doing
here
?”

Cindi shrugged her shoulders, fluffed her hair and sniffed. “
Some
folks love it here, you know.”

The song ended and Lee found herself clapping along with the rest of the restaurant. He acted comfortable, like he was in his own living room, instead of a mob of half-drunks that she imagined could turn at any moment. Lee practiced for hours when she had to do a presentation for clients and couldn't imagine what possessed someone to perform. She remembered a college friend, a drama student, explained the quality as ‘owning the stage’; the way he talked into the microphone like they were all old friends, like he was there to make their pain a little less potent, the way he opened his mouth and his soul poured out. The crowd couldn't take their eyes off him, even the men. “Thanks so much,” he said. “This next one should liven things up a bit, get you all moving.” He pointed to a young couple holding hands. “Mark and Laura just found out they're having a baby, so this one's for you. Little Chuck Berry diddy called ‘C'est la Vie’.”

The first licks of the classic rock song shook the room and several people got up to dance. The young couple danced close and slow, arms around each other. Their happiness radiated across the room and she felt a pang of jealousy and the familiar anger.

She shifted her eyes from the couple to Tommy. Lee had to admit, he was sexy, in a dark, Latin kind of way. If you liked that type. Regardless, the first thing on her list of recommendations to Mike – keep the band.

More people wandered in. They all ordered fries or onion rings and an occasional plate of nachos dripping with Velveeta. The tables filled and they clapped to the music, or chatted, heads close together to be heard over the music, or danced in the small space in front of the band. The night wore on and seemed almost festive. The crowd cheered after each song and their feet tapped to the music - Birkenstocks, tennis shoes, pointy cowboy boots and work boots. It was an assortment of small town people enjoying themselves after what she imagined was a long week of worries. We all have that in common, she thought.

Zac emerged from his office around nine, joined several rowdy women in tight clothes, and ordered pitchers of beer on the house. He disappeared from time to time out the back door but returned within minutes, redder and more animated with each glass of beer. By midnight he stumbled and slurred his words. At a quarter after, he disappeared out the back door with one of the women, who according to Cindi, “Took him home to help him sober up, if you know what I mean.”