“Meche…” I said when I got close to her. She turned around and let me see her lopsided face.
“Sorry, Manny,” Lola said, “it’s only me.”
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed and deeply disappointed. “Well, it’s good to see you, too. Why don’t we go inside.” I led Lola inside the Rub-a-Mat and said, “We’re not officially open yet, but what the hell, huh?”
Lola perched herself on a stool and asked, “What’s the story on the bird?”
“Oh, a friend of mine in El Marrow raises pigeons. Kind of a hobby. I get notes from him every now and then. What about you? How’d you get here?”
Lola opened her purse and pulled out a wad of money. “It’s a little smaller now, but this is what the guy in the DOD car gave to Eddie. I took it.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said as I brought her a cup of coffee.
“I don’t care, Manny,” she said defiantly. “I had to get out of that dump! This won’t get me on a boat, but it gets me closer.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m sure that little road stop wasn’t the most exciting place in the world, but was it really that bad?”
Lola shrugged, “I got tired of Eddie treating me like his kid sister.”
“What was up with that anyway?” I asked as I got my own cup and a couple of bagels. I gave one to Lola.
“I don’t know. Men are always treating me like their kid sister or daughter or something. It was like that when I was alive, too. Even when I was old. I was 97 when I died, you know.”
“Really?” I asked. “I barely made it past 60.” I did a little calculating. “Were you ever a flapper?”
Lola laughed. “I couldn’t even get as far as a Brooks bob! Mother wouldn’t allow it. I went through the ’20s with long hair and long dresses.” As I had always understood things, the last thing a flapper ever did was ask for permission.
“So have you just gotten into town?” I asked.
“Yeah. I was walking up from the bus terminal when you came out with the pigeon.”
“Well, if you need a job we’ve got an opening here. You’ll have to talk to Jesus this afternoon, but I think you’d be perfect. I think you said you know him, right?”
“I don’t know, Manny,” she said. “I don’t think I want to do any more waitressing.”
“You wouldn’t be,” I assured her. “This is an automat, after all. The customers serve themselves. We just have to keep the joint clean and stocked. You don’t even have to talk to the customers most of the time, but it gets pretty boring if you don’t.”
“Would we work together?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, “for a couple of hours, anyway.”
“That’s jake with me,” she said. “Where do you stop?”
“A place called the Normandie,” I said. “Whatever you do, stay away from the so-called Grand Plaza.”
“Not so good, huh? Well, I’m set for a while, so the Normandie it is. Eddie’s wad will last me even if I don’t get this job.”
“You’ll get it,” I said. “I’ll put in a good word for you with Jesus, if that’s even needed. He’s sick of doing the close, anyway, so you’re as good as in.”
“So where do I hang my hat?” she asked.
I laughed and said, “Hey, I don’t want to be rude, but I got to finish up getting this place ready to open. No, no,” I said when Lola started to get off her stool, “you stay put, if you want. I’m not trying to kick you out. I just gotta dance with this mop for a while.”
“Once a wallflower, always a wallflower, I guess,” she said.
“You?” I said. “Be serious!”
Lola just shook her head.
“Oh, man!” I exclaimed, suddenly realizing I had forgotten to take the food into the kitchen. I rushed to take care of that before Jock could come in and blow a gasket. When I finished and got back to my mop, Lola was trying to hide her laughter behind her hands. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I’m sure I’m very entertaining.”
“You have no idea,” she said. “How you scurried!”
“Hmpf!” I said and scurried some more to make up the time I had spent talking to Lola.
Jesus remembered Lola from years back and hired her on the spot, then promptly announced he’d be taking the next couple of days off. The guy was getting very frazzled and I didn’t think it was just the staffing problems he’d been having. I thought maybe Jesus’ moods could be made to fit into my still-forming plans, although exploring that would have to wait.
First I had to show Lola the ropes and such. “There’s a guy who comes in here mid-afternoon every day,” I said when I’d gotten the essentials out of the way. “Sometimes mid-mornings, too, depending on what kind of a night he’s had. Anyway, he’s a grump and a special project of mine. I make a point of trying to draw him out. I don’t make myself a nuisance—just sort of make an effort to connect with him.”
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Not a lot,” I admitted. “I’ve mainly got him to the point of saying hello without prompting. You have no idea what an accomplishment that is. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to work on him, too. Just say hello, ask him how he is, that sort of thing. Maybe someday he’ll volunteer two consecutive sentences.”
“So what’s his name? What does he look like?”
“His name is Toto Santos and, believe me, you won’t have any trouble picking him out.”
When Toto did arrive, Lola nudged me and whispered, “That’s not him… is it?”
“Got it in one, sweetheart,” I said. “Let me see what you can do with him.”
“OK, Manny,” she said and took a deep breath. She marched over to Toto as he was getting his lengua and said brightly, “Hi there, Mr. Santos.”
Toto jumped slightly and said, “Just Toto.”
“OK, Toto. My name’s Lola.” She stuck out her hand.
Toto slowly took her hand and Lola shook it. Toto’s arm just flapped around in Lola’s grip. “I’m working here now, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me,” she said.
“Sure. Excuse me,” he said and left.
“Did I do all right, Manny?” she asked a little worriedly.
“Baby,” I said, “you were perfect!”
And I wasn’t kidding. After a few days Lola was getting Toto into actual—if short—conversations. Meanwhile, Jesus got back to managing the Rub-a-Mat. I gave him a few days more before asking for a Monday morning off. He was a little cranky about it, but quickly apologized for being so testy.
I told him not to worry about it and then asked, “Are you all right, mano? I mean, this is a pretty sedate little business even when understaffed. I hope I’m not being too personal,” I added when he didn’t respond right away.
“No, you’re not,” Jesus said. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I used to enjoy this place. I liked meeting new people as they passed through. But now… I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re ready to move on,” I suggested.
“Is that your professional opinion as an ex-reaper?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Not really. I only saw people at the start of their journeys. Except for DOD people, that is. But it sounds to me like you’re restless.”
“Maybe I am,” he admitted. “I’ve been in Rubacava a long time. I stopped to earn money for passage over the sea and got to like the place.”
“Yeah, Rubacava’s quite a town,” I agreed. “Do you think you’ve got the money you need?”
“Oh,” Jesus laughed, “more than enough! I’ve done well with my little automat. But maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time to move on. I’d hate to just abandon the place, though.”