Amber said, “Well, you’re sweet for saying so. Can I get you anything else?”
“Matter a fact, yes you can,” the ponytailed man said. “How ’bout one a them red-hot kisses like you give that other guy?”
Amber blushed. With a moist leer the camouflaged man said, “Yeah, I didn’t see that on no menu!”
The ponytailed one observed that Amber wasn’t too keen on the kissing idea. He cocked his face upward and tapped a dirty fingertip on the bicycle patch. “Mebbe it’s me. Mebbe you prejudiced against handicaps.”
Amber, sensing (as all good waitresses can) that her tip was in jeopardy: “No, oh no, I can explain. That’s my boyfriend.”
In unison the men twisted in their chairs to reappraise Tony across the restaurant. He returned their stares with a belligerent sneer.
The ponytailed redneck said, “No shit. The hell is he, Cuban?”
Amber said no, Tony was from Los Angeles. “Sometimes he gets carried away. I’m sorry if it upset you.”
Through a mouthful of onions, the one called Bode said: “Meskin, I’ll bet. They’re all over California is what I heard.”
On the way back to the bar station, Amber stopped at Tony’s table and curtly related what had happened: “Thanks to you, they think I kiss all the customers. They think it’s part of the service. You happy now?”
Tony’s eyes darkened. “Those dirtbags—they wanted a kiss?”
“Do us all a favor. Go home,” Amber whispered.
“No fuckin’ way. Not now.”
“Tony, I swear to God… ”
He was flaring his nostrils, puffing his chest, flexing his arms. All that’s missing, Amber thought, is the workout mirror.
Declared Tony: “I’ll straighten those shitheads out.”
“No you won’t,” said Amber, bitterly surveying the suddenly empty table. “They’re gone.”
She hurried back, hoping to find some cash. Nothing—they’d skipped on the tab. Shit, she thought. It would come out of her pay.
Suddenly she was enveloped by Tony’s cologne, as subtle as paint thinner. She felt him looming behind her. “Goddamn you,” she said, retreating to the kitchen. Predictably, Tony stormed out the door.
Two hours later, Amber’s redneck customers returned, anchoring themselves at the same table.
She tried not to appear too relieved. “Where’d you fellas run off to?”
“Jest needed some fresh air,” said the ponytailed one, lighting a cigaret. “You miss us? Say, where’s that kissing-machine boyfriend a yours.”
Amber pretended not to hear him. “What can I get for you?”
The camouflaged man ordered four more beers, two apiece, and a fresh heap of wings. “Add it on our bill,” he said, flashing the Visa card with two stubby fingers.
Amber was waiting for the drink order when the barmaid handed her the phone. “For you, honey,” she said. “Guess who.”
Tony, of course. Screaming.
“Slow down,” Amber told him. “I can’t understand a word.”
“My car!” he cried. “Somebody burned up my car!”
“Oh, Tony.”
“Right in my fucking driveway! They torched it!”
“When?”
“During wrestling, I guess. It’s still on fire, they got like five guys tryin’ to put out the flames… ”
The barmaid came with the tray of Coronas. Amber told Tony she was really sorry about the car, but she had to get back to work.
“I’ll call you on my break,” she promised.
“The Miata, Amber!”
“Yes, baby, I heard you.”
When she brought the beers and chicken wings to the two rednecks, the one named Bode said: “Sugar, you’re our rock ‘n’ roll expert. Is there a band called the White Clarion Aryans?”
Amber thought for a moment. “Not that I ever heard of.”
“Good,” Bode said.
“Not jes good,” said his ponytailed friend, “fan-fucking-tastic!”
JoLayne Lucks demanded that Tom Krome teach her the thumb-popping trick. “That thing you did with the he-she back at Shiloh’s.”
When they got to a stoplight, Krome took her left hand to demonstrate.
“Not too hard!” she piped.
Gently he showed her how to disable a person by bending and twisting his thumb in a single motion. JoLayne asked where he’d learned about it.
“One time the newspaper sent me to take a class on self-defense,” Krome said, “for a feature story. The instructor was a ninja guy, weighed all of a hundred and twenty pounds. But he knew all sorts of naughty little numbers.”