The Thursday Night Club (2 page)

Randy smiled right into the camera.

In horror, Kevin and Jesse looked at each other. “Oh, no!” they said in sync.

“Thanks for coming on the show today,” Brandt told Randy. “We appreciate it.”

“Thanks so much for having me, Brandt. I’m grateful for the opportunity to speak to your audience today,” Randy said, smirking into the camera. “I have some really good friends who are great guys, but they also happen to be incredibly shy. For years, I’ve watched them struggle to even speak to girls and I’d like to share their frustration with you today.”

In horror, Kevin and Jesse looked at each other again. “Oh God, no!” they said in unison.

“When I first met Jesse Cabral and Kevin Robinson our freshman year, I thought they were both gay,” Randy said. “But after a while, I realized that the feminine mannerisms and squeaky voices were just defensive mechanisms.” He shrugged. “I guess they were just scared.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Jesse said through gritted teeth.

“Not if I get to him first,” Kevin promised.

Randy looked back into the camera. “Girls, whenever you see Kevin or Jesse around campus, please be kind to them,” he said. “They’re both fighting to feel comfortable in their own skin.” He shook his head and lowered his tone. “They’re still trying to figure out who they are.”

Kevin shook his head. “I hope Marybeth’s not watching this.”

The wet streets glistened beneath the streetlamps when Kevin and Marybeth pulled into the lot. Bent tubes of red and green neon hissed the word
DINER
; the exhausted
R
flickering like some cheap motel sign. A closer look revealed that the
N
was missing.
DIER
is what the billboard letters actually read.

They pulled into a row of cars parked right to the door and stepped out to face equal amounts of glass and polished aluminum formed in the shape of a giant bus. The restaurant looked like a trailer home right smack in the middle of a black-tar parking lot.
It looks like the perfect place to eat
, Kevin thought.

It was a tight squeeze past the candy vending machine where the new couple was greeted by another sign reading,
Please Seat Yourself
. They did. The booth was retro 50s, its bright green seat cushions cracked and taped. Kevin slid in right beside his smiling date. Marybeth was beautiful and sexy, with dark hair and eyes to match.

On the table, warm creamers, a sticky bottle of ketchup and an array of assorted jellies sat beneath a walled jukebox. Its selections were as outdated as the diner’s elderly clientele. They dared not look under the table.

A gum-snapping waitress approached, coffees in hand. She smelled of home fries and scrambled eggs, saving Kevin and Marybeth the time of reading the
Specials
board. “What’ll it be?” she asked with a smile.

“Two eggs over easy with bacon and toast,” Marybeth ordered.

“An omelet,” Kevin answered, “with everything in it.”

The waitress winked and was on her way in a flash.

“I love eating breakfast food at dinner time,” Marybeth said.

“Me too,” Kevin said and grabbed her hand. For a moment, he scanned the place and allowed his mind to take in his surroundings.

Without breaking his frantic stride, the cook acknowledged the new order being put up. He was as thin as a scarecrow with a moustache to match. He was quick, his dual spatulas clanging melodically against the sizzling grill. A day’s worth of sweat and food remnants stained his once white uniform, proof that he’d already worked his fair share. Still, he never slowed. After dropping some cubed potatoes into the deep fryer, he cracked four brown eggs. With the other hand, he reached for some cheese. Kevin sipped hot coffee and silently hoped it was his meal in the making. It was still too early to tell.

While some oldies tune played like white noise in the background, the place was awash in a chorus of friendly conversation. From the memorabilia that cluttered the walls, it was like taking a walk into the past when Marilyn Monroe and James Dean hypnotized the country. “I love greasy spoons,” he muttered without thinking.

“Me too,” Marybeth said and squeezed his hand.

A woman at the next table nodded in agreement. “I love these places too,” she mumbled, gumming her pancakes to death. It was clear that privacy was one item not on the menu. The waitress returned to fill half-empty cups, forcing Kevin and Marybeth to recreate the same taste with more cream and sugar.

Within minutes, she returned with the meals. The word “enjoy,” however, wasn’t ten minutes old when crumpled napkins found their way into two empty plates.

While they finished off their third cups of coffee, Marybeth said, “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m not sure what I want after school, except that I don’t want any more school.”

He laughed and continued staring into her big chocolate eyes.

She finally stopped babbling long enough for him to lean in and kiss her.

“You’re a really great listener,” she said in a voice that reached just beyond a whisper, making his heart flutter. “I was thinking that I’d like to be a great listener too.”

One of his eyebrows stood.

She giggled. “So the next time I see you,” she said, “which I’m really looking forward to…” She gave him another kiss. “…I intend to shut my mouth and let you run with it. I’m curious about you and I’m looking forward to learning everything about you.”

Kevin started to speak, but stopped. “Marybeth,” he said carefully after organizing his thoughts, “you’re not just a woman I know or met. You’re someone I really care about…even though you want to take it slow.”

“Kevin, I want to know your mind and especially your heart before we…”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “We’ll move as fast or as slow as you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you for that,” she whispered, hugging him.

Pushing the coffee mug away from him, Kevin said, “I’m getting together with everyone tonight.” He peered hard into her eyes. “Come with me. I really want them to meet you.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight,” she said, “but soon.”

Kevin nodded but felt confused about her reluctance to meet his friends. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Soon,” she repeated and kissed him.

He paid the tab and slid out of the booth. “Okay,” he said.

She slid out of the booth behind him and grabbed his hand. “But I’d really like it if you could call me later.” She looked into his eyes and smiled beautifully. “I need to hear your voice again before I go to bed.”

Kevin swallowed hard and escorted her out of the greasy spoon, making room for others who salivated at the door.

Izzy, Ava, Randy and Jesse gathered on Izzy and Ava’s front porch for their weekly
Thursday Night Club
get-together. As they drank beer and wine from mismatched glasses at the old wooden table—waiting on Kevin to start playing cards—they finished their discussion on the current state of the church.

“…so why is that politically incorrect?” Randy asked, grinning.

“Randy, you’re beyond politically incorrect,” Izzy said. “You’re just incorrect.”

Randy laughed. “And comfortable with it, you Shiite liberal,” he said. “People take themselves way too seriously today.” He shook his head. “I think everyone has become much too sensitive for this big bad world.”

Jesse nodded. “I agree,” he said, “and Randy’s right. Learning morals from the church is like learning fiscal ethics from Exxon-Mobile.”

At that moment, Kevin emerged from the shadows wearing a baseball helmet with a video camera duct taped to the front of it. “Quiet on the set!” he screamed.

They all laughed.

“I hope you came up with something better than that,” Izzy said.

Kevin removed the ridiculous helmet and took his rightful place at the table. “Oh, I did,” he said.

“Late again, Kevin?” Ava said.

He shrugged unapologetically. “I’m sure I didn’t miss anything,” he joked.

“It was Marybeth again, right?” Izzy commented.

He nodded.

“Why don’t you just bring her along?” Ava asked.

“Yeah,” Izzy said, “this isn’t exactly an exclusive club.”

Everyone looked at Izzy.

“Yeah, right,” Kevin said and smiled. “I’ll bring her around soon.”

Wrapped in a heavy afghan, Ava sneezed and looked at Randy. “Can you please hand me a tissue?” she asked.

“Kiss you?” he said. “But I hardly know you.”

She playfully slapped his arm. “You need better material too,” she teased.

“He sure does,” Kevin chimed in. “I just got his postcard from the Battleship Cove and…”

“Battleship Cove?” Izzy interrupted. “Isn’t that four blocks from here?”

Randy nodded and everyone laughed. It was the perfect transition from religion to tallying the pranks and deciding the latest contest winner.

Still chuckling, Ava asked, “That’s the best you can do, Randy?”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Kevin blurted, smiling. “And then I figured, with amateur material like that, it has to be down to me and Jesse.”

Randy stood. “I don’t think so,” he said excitedly.

“And why’s that?” Jesse asked.

“Because Jesse was out collecting money for charity,” Randy reported, nodding. “He wasn’t actually pranking people.”

Kevin turned to Jesse. “Be honest, how much did you collect?”

“Not even fifty bucks,” Jesse said defensively, “I swear.”

“Okay, so what did you do with the money?” Kevin asked.

Jesse shrugged. “I threw it into the
Wounded Warrior Project
jar at the pizza shop.”

“That’s it, you’re disqualified,” Randy said decisively.

The girls started laughing.

Jesse stood. “I’m what?”

“Randy’s right,” Kevin said. “You were supposed to be pranking people, not doing charity work.” He grinned. “You’re out of the contest,
do-gooder
.”

Jesse sat back down and laughed. “Sorry guys. I guess I’ll have to blame my parents. They always taught me to give more than I take.”

“That’s awesome,” Izzy said. “How so?” she asked, clearly interested in hearing more.

Jesse smiled and his eyes grew distant. “When I was a kid, my father used to pull over for anyone who was stuck—rain, snow, it didn’t matter. If someone were in need of a helping hand, he’d lend one. And there I was, in the backseat of the car, paying close attention.” He smiled wide. “If parents made money raising kids, mine would have been millionaires,” he added sincerely.

“Are you complementing your parents or yourself?” Randy asked.

Jesse smiled. “Both I guess. All I’m doing is pulling over and lending a hand to some folks who need it. I just hope, when I have kids, that they pay attention too.”

After sneezing twice, Ava asked, “So it was your dad, then, who screwed you up and molded you into a compassionate soul?”

Jesse laughed. “Actually, my grandfather had the greatest influence on me when I was growing up. He once told me that he’d never been to a funeral where folks talked about a dead guy’s bank account or the amount of houses and cars he owned. Instead, people remembered their good deeds…the help they offered others throughout their lives.” Jesse paused. “Then he asked me, what if—in the end—wealth isn’t defined by what we’ve accumulated? What if it’s decided by how much we give away while we’re here?”

“Your grandfather was a very wise man,” Ava said, stifling a cough.

“He had his moments,” Jesse said, with a loving smile. “And then there were times when he was less than appropriate.”

“A Renaissance man?” Kevin asked.

Jesse chuckled. “I was seven years old when he recited a poem about a pelican to me.”

“Do you remember it?” Randy asked.

Jesse cleared his throat. “A wonderful bird is the pelican. His bill will hold more than his belican. He can take in his beak. Food enough for a week. But I’m damned if I see how the helican.” Jesse laughed. “At that age, I thought he was swearing.”

Everyone laughed.

“Renaissance man indeed,” Kevin said. After a moment, he shook his head. “You know, it’s all very nice that your family taught you to be a decent guy, Jesse, but you should let them know that it just cost you seventy-five cents.”

The girls continued to laugh.

“So it looks like I’m the winner then,” Randy announced.

Now Kevin was on his feet. “What?!”

Randy nodded, proudly. “That Big Foot prank you pulled was criminal…”

Jesse quickly jumped into the fun. “And caused great fear and…” he went wide-eyed in a pathetic display of drama, “…perhaps even suffering.”

“They’re right, funny man,” Ava said to Kevin, turning to sneeze again.

Izzy nodded in agreement. “When the campus police siren went off, Kevin, you were disqualified right then and there,” she said.

Kevin pondered this for a moment and then realized that Randy was the victor. “So you’re all telling me that lame Randy wins by default?” he groaned.

As everyone nodded, Randy emptied the peanut jar and placed the three quarters into his pocket.

While the laughter continued, the five friends began to play cards—with Kevin pouting over the loss.

At the end of the night, Izzy turned to the boys. “Guys, please tell me you’re not going trick-or-treating next week?”

Kevin shook his head for all three boys. “We’re probably safest staying here and handing out candy this year,” he said.

“Which might keep us out of jail,” Jesse added.

Kevin nodded. “Yeah, Randy can dress as a scarecrow again and make more children cry.”

“That was supposed to be funny,” Randy said defensively.

Ava looked at them through swollen eyes and wiped her nose with another tissue. “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving this year?” she asked.

“Going home,” everyone reported.

“All except Jesse,” Izzy teased. “He’ll probably be dishing out mashed potatoes at the rectory kitchen again.”

Jesse shook his head. “Not this year,” he admitted, “although we should all head down there at some point and help them get things prepared.”

“Count me in,” Izzy said.

“Me too,” Ava and Randy said.

Everyone looked at Kevin.

“Fine,” he said, “but that’ll cover me for both Thanksgiving and Christmas,” he said.

Jesse shook his head at his friend. “Shame on you,” he teased. “My grandfather would be very disappointed.”

Kevin stood and prepared to leave for the night. “So the Renaissance man had something to say about Christmas too?”

Jesse’s face turned from playful to serious. “He told me to watch how people acted toward each other around Christmas and then asked me to imagine if everyone acted that way all year long.” He nodded. “I’ve always loved Christmas for that.”