When Lauren got back, there was another customer in her section. “He just sat there,” Carly said. She sat on a bar stool and sipped cranberry juice, looking miserable. Lauren didn’t feel like fighting with Carly today, or hearing the details of her UTI, so she picked up her pad and went over to the table.
“Hi,” Lauren said.
“Hi,” the man said back. He was about thirty, but he was dressed like he was older; his hair was swirled in an old-fashioned part and his suit was impeccable. He wore heavy-looking cuff links of a bear on his right wrist and a bul on his left. Lauren hated him on the spot.
“Can I get you something to start?” she asked.
“Wel , to start with, you could smile. Would that be too much to ask?”
Lauren looked up and locked eyes with him for a second. People were always tel ing her to smile. Construction workers on the street and random guys in bars would just cal out to her, “Hey, beautiful, smile!” They said it like they were doing her a favor, like they could make her happy with this little tip.
“My mouth turns down,” Lauren said. “I’m not unhappy.”
“Whoa, okay. That’s more information than I asked for.”
Lauren sighed. “You told me to smile, implying that I was unhappy. But I’m not. My mouth turns down and sometimes it looks that way.”
“So what are you?” the guy asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Wel , you said you’re not unhappy and you clearly aren’t happy. So what are you today?”
“I guess I’m neutral.”
“Wel , neutral, it’s lovely to meet you. Can you get me a Glenlivet on the rocks?”
Lauren nodded and turned away. She was used to creepy customers. And she knew from experience that this guy was a self-important creeper, which was the worst kind. He thought that Lauren should be thril ed to be his waitress. He thought he was different from every other customer.
Lauren placed the drink order at the bar and then went to deliver the food to her other table. The boy clapped his hands when she put down his plates of fries and bacon.
“And pickles!” he cried. “I want some pickles.”
Lauren wanted to tel him about the rise of childhood obesity, but she went back to the kitchen and pul ed four pickles out of the pickle tub and put them on a plate. When she placed them in front of the boy he said, “You’re a pickle,” and pointed to the brunette. Then he clamped both hands over his mouth and laughed and bounced on his seat.
She picked up the Glenlivet from the bar and deposited it on the table. “Are you ready to order?” she asked. She looked down at her pad. She didn’t want to meet his eyes.
“I know you from somewhere,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” she answered. “People say that a lot. I’m a familiar-looking person.”
“No, I definitely know you from somewhere. What’s your name?”
Lauren looked up at him. She debated giving him a fake name. Maybe this would be the serial kil er who would murder her. Carly could tel the cameras that she felt guilty for not waiting on him. “It could have been me,” she would cry through purple mascara.
“Did you forget?” he asked.
“What?”
“Did you forget your name? It’s taking you a long time to answer.”
“Lauren,” she said. She figured if he was going to murder her, he was going to do it whether or not he knew her real name.
“Lauren,” he said. “I don’t know any Laurens.” He looked at her careful y.
“I told you, I’m a familiar-looking person,” she said. His stare was upsetting. She wanted him to stop looking at her. He ordered a steak sandwich and another drink. Lauren looked down, surprised. She hadn’t realized he had finished the first drink while they were talking. She took the empty glass and walked away.
“Lauren, who’s the hottie over there?” Carly was looking much perkier after her third glass of cranberry juice.
“Just some guy. He’s kind of a creep,” Lauren said, and waited for Preston to look her way so that she could order the drink.
“So you’re taking next weekend off?” Carly asked. “Ray asked if I could cover your shift.”
“Yeah, I have to go to a wedding,” Lauren said.
“Oh, fun! I love weddings,” Carly said, and then she sighed. “I want to get married.”
“Is that a proposal?” Preston asked.
“Yeah, right, Preston. Like you could handle al this!” Carly did a shimmy to make her boobs swing back and forth and Preston laughed.
“Preston, can you get me this drink?” Lauren pushed the slip across the bar.
“What’s with you, sourpuss?” Preston asked.
“Why is everyone saying that to me? I’m fine,” Lauren said.
“Clearly,” Preston said.
“It’s just these customers are bugging me today,” Lauren said. “See that table over there? The mom let her son order bacon for lunch.”
“Grody!” Carly said.
“Yeah, grody!” Preston mocked her. “Plus, do you know how many little bacons had to die for that lunch? It’s real y a shame.”
“Shut it, Preston.”
“Here’s your drink, sunshine!”
The man smiled at Lauren as she carried his drink over. “Is that man your lover?” he asked.
“Lover?” Lauren asked. “No, that man is not my lover. Where are you from? Who talks like that?”
“I do,” he said, and sniffed.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Lauren said.
“You did mean to, and you didn’t, so don’t worry.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m a very successful man,” he said.
“That’s great.”
“It is. A lot of people are jealous of me. I make a lot of money.”
“Great.”
“A lot. More than you could probably guess.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes,” he said. “I thought of where I knew you from, by the way.”
Lauren’s heart started pounding. “Real y?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “I used to see you in the park.”
“The park?”
“Yes, Madison Square Park. You used to lie there and talk to yourself.”
“What?” Lauren felt dizzy.
“I used to work right there, and we’d see you on our lunch break. One of my buddies thought you were retarded.”
“I didn’t—that wasn’t me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on, Lauren, give it up! I saw you. I saw you every day. Don’t be upset about my buddy cal ing you a retard, he was just playing around.
Anyway, when he said that, I told him, ‘I’d stil sleep with her. She’s stil hot, even if she is a retard.’ ”
“I didn’t” was al Lauren could say.
“So, what were you doing there anyway? You were there every day and then one day you weren’t there. I always wondered what happened to you.
I always wondered what you were doing, lying there and talking to yourself.”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Lauren said.
“Wel , Lauren, you must have been doing something.”
Lauren wished she hadn’t told him her real name. She didn’t like the way it sounded coming out of his mouth.
Lauren never told her friends how much she went to the park after Preston dumped her. They wouldn’t have understood that it was the only place she wanted to be. She figured she’d just keep going there forever, lie on the grass and look at the clouds, happy in her own world. But then one day she went to the park and it rained. It rained big, thick drops that made noise when they hit the ground. Lauren watched as the white light clouds soiled themselves, turning an army brown and final y a slimy black. She lay there, feeling the people around her gathering their things and leaving.
But she stayed, watching the clouds quiver and final y release. She kept her eyes open the whole time. She didn’t even blink.
One drop hit her chest and stayed intact, a tiny puddle of rain wobbling on top of her skin. Others fel on her face, sliding off the grooves of her nose and mouth. Some hit her eyebal s, and she thought they ran right inside her head, through her eyes and al the way to her brain. She let them al fal on top of her, let them soak her one at a time.