The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (26 page)

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
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Johnny stared down at a boy about the same age as Angel in a kitchen smaller than Johnny’s while the boy’s mother searched somewhere else in the small apartment for money to pay him.

I hope it’s not another sock. The last one the rich snob gave me didn’t fit me at all and made a lousy sock puppet. Even the mice wouldn’t play with it.


What’s your name?” Johnny asked.


Kevin.”


I’m Johnny.”

Kevin’s bony mama, all of five feet tall and no more than ninety pounds, returned to the kitchen holding out a baggie full of change. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Mousy. She is a mousy woman who pays me … not nearly enough. Those are mostly pennies.
Johnny noticed nothing really about the kitchen. Nothing on the counters, nothing in the sink, two unfinished, mismatched chairs on either side of a table made level by … a sock.
No wonder I got the baggie tonight.

Johnny took the baggie, weighing it against this woman’s obvious poverty. “Feels right. Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your pizza, Kevin.”

Kevin wasted no time ripping open the box and inhaling half a slice.

Kevin’s mama followed Johnny to the door. “I know I’m a little short, but I promise—”


It’s all right,” Johnny said. He pulled out several old $2-off and two-for-one coupons, handing all but a $2-off coupon to her. “This will cover the difference.”


Thank you,” she said.


Not a problem.”


It’s just that it’s been so hard since …” She looked around the little room as if trying to get Kevin’s father to materialize on a green sofa that first breathed in the 1960s.


You don’t have to explain,” Johnny said. “Really. Just ask for Johnny whenever you call, okay? You call, and I’ll take your order when I’m in the store. If I’m not there, call back later.”
And Hector will never know how much money he’s losing.


Okay.”

As he looked in the back of the Vega for his next delivery—a supreme, extra meat for Randy—Johnny decided that mousy lady and son should get a spot in his book, too.
While Kevin gorged on the pizza his mother paid for with pennies, his mother evaporated into a couch that had once held memories of a home.

Where is this coming from? I wish I had my laptop with me.

He stared only a moment at Randy’s pizza, picked it up, and returned to mousy lady’s door.

She opened the door.


I had an extra pizza in my car,” Johnny said. “It might be a little cold, but I think Kevin will like it.”

Mousy lady started crying.

Johnny handed her the pizza. “I’m, um, I’m going to need to use your phone. Is that okay?”


Yes. It’s by the couch.”

Johnny stood away from the couch as he called Hector, not wanting to give mousy lady any ideas. “It’s Johnny.”


What happened now?” Hector demanded.


I, uh, flipped my next order,” he whispered. “Could you remake a large supreme extra meat for me?”


You did what?”


Look, I flipped Randy’s pizza, and unless you want Randy calling you …”


I remake it. Bye.”

Click.

Johnny hung up and was glad to see mousy lady eating, too. He waved, and she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Back at Señor Pizza, Hector was simultaneously answering phones, making pizzas, and folding boxes. “There is Randy’s pizza—Señor Pizza, can you hold, please?—and you owe me thirteen-fifty.”

Johnny put the baggie on the counter.


She paid you like that? You must demand all customers pay you like normal people—Señor Pizza, please hold.”


Money is money, Hector,” Johnny said.


You have no backbone, Johnny. Hold please.”


Yeah, I’m a real softie.” He handed Hector two crumples ones.


What is this for?”


The pizza I flipped. It cost you two dollars to make.”


Was a large supreme extra meat! Oh, I am sorry I yell. We are very busy. Can you hold, please?”

All the lights on the phone glowed, and Johnny smiled. He tossed two quarters onto the counter. “This is for the electricity.”


You owe me—”


No,” Johnny said.
Just flexing a little backbone, chief.


No?”

Dude, you don’t want to tick off your only driver now, do you?
“The phone’s lit up, you have a full oven, I see ten pies that need to travel, the night is young, and there’s Randy out there waiting …”

Hector’s body shook. “You just … be more careful.” He slid the quarters into the register.

Johnny made two stacks, putting Randy’s pizza on the bottom where it was sure to get flattened. “Hey, Hector?” he yelled from the door.


You still here? Hold please. What, Johnny?”

Nice attitude.
“Tell everybody ninety-plus.”


I lose business if I say that!”


Add more time if the folks you have on hold want a delivery. And Marion needs two large extra sauce, extra cheese to be delivered to her house by nine. Make them for me, and if she calls, tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Hector forced a smile. “Is Marion one of the two women you were with the other day?”


One of
three
young women, actually. Later.”

Always leave ‘em guessing.

Bitter winds shook the Vega and ripped through Johnny when he finally got to Randy’s house at least ninety minutes late.
Good thing I remembered my gloves this time,
Johnny thought,
and thank God it’s cold. Randy has to be wearing clothes tonight.

Johnny was, as usual, wrong.

Randy was already in the holiday spirit. He sported red and green shorts that could have fit a four-year-old. Randy also held out a green margarita as he opened the door.


Ho, ho, ho, Hector,” Randy said. “Or should I say, ‘
Feliz Navidad’
?”

He still thinks I’m Guatemalan.
“Thirteen-fifty.”
It’s mid-November, you—no, don’t twist! I have enough bad dreams as it is!

Randy pulled a roll of quarters from inside his shorts.

Another reason to hate the holidays.
Johnny exchanged the pizza for the roll of quarters. “Should I keep the change?”

Randy giggled. “Only if you turn around very slowly.”

I’m wearing a coat. What could he see? Johnny turned around slowly.
“Have a good evening, Randy.”
And I hope he returns those shorts to their rightful owner.


Jingle those bells, Hector!” Randy called.

Johnny decided that Randy couldn’t possibly go into his book as is.
Unless he wears a scarf,
Johnny thought.
And those shaggy snow boots.

At Señor Pizza, Johnny first inspected Marion’s two pizzas before bagging them.


You doubt my skill?” Hector asked.


She’s kinda picky about a lot of things, Hector.”

Hector laughed. “She chose you. How picky can she be?”

Pretty darn picky actually, especially about being on time, and I’m already twenty minutes late …


You’re thirty minutes late!” Marion cried at the door. “I ain’t hungry no more.”


I am.” Gloria kissed Johnny and pulled him into the house. “You look beat.”


His face always looks that way,” Marion spat. “You ain’t getting a tip, Johnny.”

Johnny pulled out a two-for-one coupon. “It’s only ten before taxes.”

Marion handed him a ten and a five. “Here. Go get gas.”

Johnny smiled at Gloria. “I filled up before my shift.”

Marion snatched back the five. “We even?”

Johnny nodded and hugged Gloria. “Wish I could stay longer, but we’re getting slammed. Where’s Angel?”


Upstairs asleep,” Gloria said, opening the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

As they walked down the sidewalk to the Vega, Gloria slipped a sucker into Johnny’s back pocket. “For later,” she said.


I can’t wait for later,” Johnny said. “I might not get here till three. Is that okay?”

Gloria pouted. “I guess. Are you going to shave? I don’t want you to cut me.”

I cannot resist asking.
“Where on your delicious body would I cut you?”

She sidled closer. “Very soft, sensitive places.”

Johnny rubbed his stubble. “This will be as soft as a baby’s bottom.” He kissed her and held her close. “I hate this. I want to stay.”


I want you to stay, too. Do you ever take a night off?”

Johnny shook his head. “I can remember the last night I didn’t work.”


Why?”

Johnny sighed. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, but only if you hold me tight.”


I promise.”

He dipped her half into the street. “Is not a promise, is a requirement.”


Ooh, I love a foreign man.”

Johnny left Gloria purring.

It was the least he could do.

 

23

 

Gloria wore loose jeans, a looser T-shirt, no socks—so Johnny could admire her heels—and a smile.

She also wore tiny beads of sweat from the anticipation and the adrenaline as she strained her eyes at the window to follow every set of headlights.

I haven’t had a “date” in so long. I don’t even know how to behave! I mean, I know how to behave, but I want so badly to misbehave … Sorry, Lord. You try being a working mama and nothing else for five years, and then You tell me how You feel.

Sorry again, Lord.

I know I’ve been hoping and praying for a good man, and though the package isn’t what I expected, I certainly like what’s inside.

So far.

For the most part.

Hmm.

Johnny is a little pushy. Offering opinions on my child the first minutes he knows her. What kind of guy does that? He has no children. How would he know?

Okay, he’s a little right about Angel, but he isn’t an expert or anything.

At three, she heard a slight tapping on the window, tiptoed to the door, and let in a complete stranger. Johnny simply didn’t look like Johnny anymore. He wore ordinary blue jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and a gray hooded sweatshirt. He was clean-shaven and even smelled nice.

Johnny handed her a handwritten page.


What’s this?” Gloria whispered.


Just something I threw together.”

Gloria led Johnny to the loveseat, where he sat. She read the single sentence by the flickering light of the TV: “While Kevin gorged on the pizza his mother paid for with pennies, his mother evaporated into a couch that had once held memories of a home as across town at Señor Pizza, Hector dreamed of Guatemala while Gloria set one cherry Dum-Dum aside on the Quick-E Mart counter for Johnny, the worst romance novelist ever born, but Johnny couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even drowse, because he couldn’t stop daydreaming of interesting, slow hands, Gloria’s soft body, and the bliss yet to come.”


This is very nice,” Gloria whispered.
And it makes me want to misbehave and rub my soft body all over him!
“Clear, almost poetic.”
It’s getting hot in here.

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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