From His Perspective

Chapter 11

Charlie entered the diner. The small bells strung over the door jingled, signaling her arrival. The place looked identical to when she had been there for her mid-afternoon interview, but there was something different.

The diner had more backlights that weren’t as visible during the day. A soft maroon glow traced the counter. There was also a maroon glow outlining the windows. The place was bright, not blinding. There was definitely an overall warmth.

“One?” The brunette waitress stood beside Charlie and smiled. She wore a “Vicki” name tag on her polo, and instead of the skirt Charlie had seen the waitress this afternoon wearing, Vicki had on a pair of black dress pants.

“Yes, please.”

“Table or booth?”

Charlie chanced a quick look around. There were some families in booths, and a small group of five seated at a table. “How about the counter?”

“Pick a seat, any seat you’d like.”

The only other person seated at the counter was an older woman with very short black hair. Draped over a shoulder was a tan mink stole. It looked real. Charlie didn’t think people still bought furs. What caught Charlie’s eye were large diamond earrings. Those couldn’t be real. They looked better suited for a chandelier than suspended from an ear lobe.

couldn’t When Charlie sat, a stool between them, she noticed four things. Thick mascara with long, long lashes, a pronounced beauty mark on the left cheekbone, bright red lipstick, and lastly, the woman seated next to her was, in fact, a man.

Charlie refocused her attention, shifting her weight on the stool.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing.”

Charlie’s breath caught in her chest. “Me? Ah, that’s—why thank you. How about you with those, the dashing earrings and that lovely mink.”

The woman blushed as she gingerly cupped a dangling diamond. “These old things?”

The woman’s voice sounded very familiar.

In fact, the woman looked familiar.

Vicki walked over with a menu in her hand.

Charlie asked the woman, “Do I … do I know you?”

Vicki groaned. “Here we go.”

The woman stood up, her plate of half-eaten food was forgotten. She slung the mink across her throat so that it now slung over the opposite shoulder. She looked toward the ceiling, eyes alive and shining. She bellowed, “I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps. To find I’m king of the hill, top of the heap!”

Charlie’s brow furrowed. Frank Sinatra? “Wait, wait! I know. You’re Liza Minnelli!”

The woman bowed. The patrons inside Second Breakfast clapped. Someone let out a loud whistle.

Vicki said, “She comes in every night.”

In a masculine voice, the woman said, “The name’s John. Liza ‘John’ Minnelli. I do a drag show a few nights a week. Like to stop in for a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes beforehand.” John Minnelli sat back down, picked up his fork, and pointed it at the food on his plate. “Never like meatloaf before. Never. My mom, when she made it? I couldn’t touch it. But these guys, I don’t know what they do—” He pointed at the counter line. “Roger, I don’t know what you do to make this meatloaf—”

The cook looked up from the grill. He shrugged. “I don’t do anything. It’s Tubs’ recipe. I just follow it.”

“Well, you follow it well, my man. You follow it well.” John Minnelli ate a forkful, but before he chewed his eyes lit up. “I am so rude! So rude. Forgive me. What is your name?”

“Me? My name is Charlie. Charlene. I go by Charlie.”

“I don’t judge,” John Minnelli said, and let out a laugh. “I know I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“I just moved to town not that long ago.”

Vicki said, “You the Charlie that applied for the waitress job?”

Charlie looked guilty. Was that good or bad that Vicki recognized the name? “I did.”

Vicki didn’t say anything more.

Charlie felt somewhat compelled. “In fact, I interviewed just this afternoon for the position.”

Vicki fished the order pad and pen out of her apron.

John Minnelli slapped at the waitress’s hand. “C’mon, now girl. Do you know something about how the interview went, or not? Are you just going to let her hang with anticipation?”

Vicki sighed. “It’s not my place to say one way or the other.”

“So you know something?” John Minnelli said. “Spill it, girl.”

Charlie realized she was holding her breath. “That’s okay. She doesn’t have to say anything.”

Vicki gave John Minnelli a curt grin. “How about it, Charlie? What can I get for you?”

“I could really go for a cheeseburger and fries.”

“Ketchup, mustard, lettuce and tomato?”

“Maybe a little onion, too?”

“We can do that.”

Charlie said, “Sounds perfect.”

“Their meat hot sauce is to die for,” John Minnelli added.

“Meat hot sauce?”

“Where are you from?”

“Rochester.” She smiled. “Minnesota.”

John Minnelli leaned back in his chair as if her news almost knocked him over. “Well let me give you some advice. A meat hot sauce is like chili, but different. It’s crumbled up bits of ground beef with just a hint of heat in an oily sauce that people pour over hamburgers and french fries.”

“I can give you some on the side, this way you can see if you like it,” Vicki said. “How’s that?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh,” Vicki said, as she tore the order slip out of the pad. “I am assuming you want your employee discount?”

“My what?”

John Minnelli brought his hands up to his face, his fingertips by his mouth. “Sounds like you got the job!”