Julie Ch. 05

"Alack, alas! Another botched date for Peter. At least it one ended before it began. So much for an Ideal Partner Quiz." A sigh came from Chris in the next room. Peter called to him, "At least I can thank you for not saying 'Told you so.'"

He had met Patricia through some online dating service. By all the conversing they had done through online chats and the sending of e-mails he had hoped she would be the woman for him. More over, he had hoped she would be a woman. Unfortunately Patricia had not been completely honest but her Adam's apple spoke loud and long – there was something to be said for reality that the Internet lacked.

Under his breath he cursed the stupid site and his apparent inability to meet a good woman on his own. Sure plenty of ladies hit on him in the bar, but usually they were just there to flirt or use him like instant-boyfriend mix. Women like that threw him away like expired milk. Then he would retreat to the haven of the bar, hoping for a better chance. Lately, he'd been taking matters into his own hands rather than searching amongst his patrons.

The date crashed and burned on Friday and here he was on Tuesday, still surly over it. Well after all, he thought, it is Tuesday -- the official worst day of the week. What better day to be sullen?

An hour sped by before he realized he had been unrelenting in his angst. If Christopher had been covering for him, Peter didn't know. But as much as he would like to think it, Patricia was not the only reason for brooding. That girl, Julie, almost sprinted out of his sight. For a few minutes he wondered if she saw some symptoms of plague on his face.

That wasn't it, and he knew it. Occasionally called scruffy, Peter was the rough kind of handsome that attracted a lot of female attention. In the past few years, some friends had tried to make him trendy with new shirts and different suggestions on hair styles. He'd laughed at each one and called it "Queer Eye Back-lash." After all, you don't mess with a good thing. Besides that, no one touched his hair – no matter how long they'd known him.

Just as the night couldn't get any brighter, a familiar form sallied forth to his favorite stool.

"Look who it is, Chris. I thought we banned that crazy old loon."

Chris looked upon the old man with a feline grin. "Where is your pretty lady-friend from Friday?"

This was met with an equally smug face: "You just wish you'd met her first."

"What is going on here? What friend?"

The proud expression passing across Walt's face was quite self-satisfied. "The twenty dollar bill. Too bad you saw her first. If I were thirty years younger, I'd give you a run for your money." Walt couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows in a savvy fashion.

"She's your lady-friend how?"

"Chris, I sure hope you're the smart one of the family, 'cause light is dawning on Marblehead here too slowly."

Calmly, Peter took the teasing and asked, "What happened?"

"Well your friend Walt just asked the lady a few questions, like her whole name. And because an old man should always recognize the appropriate time to have excellent hearing, I learned a few other facts about her while she had a few drinks with the girls. That and a little conversation with another nice lady – some real hot stuff." Walt claimed the tall glass of suds that Chris poured for him. "Ah, such a sweet girl."

Peter sighed as if a saint with tribulations ahead; he knew it would take quite some time to draw the information out of Walt.

***

"I've got a proposition for you."

The look on Franky's face was something Julie was wary of. Sure it was sincere and honest – but honest as in I've-got-something-planned-that-will-be-fun-yet-potentially-not. She must have learned it from Matthew. As ordinary as Wonderbread, Julie continued her work and asked the necessary question: "What's the proposition?"

"I know you draw. So I was thinking, if I've got me one of those starving artists working for me, I could be a patron or something." Franky shinned her nails against the lapel of her apron idly, keeping her eyes trained on Julie's face. "Course, that means you'd have to make something for me, so I figure a nice portrait would be in order. Not those little doodles you've been doing on your break, either. Something big enough to be framed."

Julie pursed her lips, biting back that nearly automatic reply she'd been offering her brother. With Franky just looking at her, neither urging her to the task nor acting disinterested, Julie thought about it. Years had gone by since her last commission and although not starving in the least, the extra money would be good for a movie showing or a day trip to a museum. "I – who would I be drawing?"

"Me, of course. And if you want any more cash, I'd be willing to extend the deal for other ones." She leaned in close to Julie as she pulled on her jacket. "I think Marble would be willing, and I wouldn't mind a keepsake of your brother."

She had her misgivings about this, but still Julie couldn't help but nod and agree.

"Also, I couldn't help but notice you've scheduled yourself for Friday night." The expression on Franky's face was slightly worried. "Did we scare you?"

Julie blushed lightly, and gave a delicate no with a shake of her head.

"You didn't think me a lush by having two margaritas at the same time, did you?" Before Julie could respond, Franky explained, "It's just that the bar really gets swinging and it's hard to get another by the time I finish mine..."

"No, not at all, Franky. I – I just remembered I had something to do. For Matthew." Knowing she was rotten at lying, Julie turned away to bus the dirty dishes from a regular's table. "You've been one of the nicest people I've ever worked for and one of the most magnanimous people I have ever met."

"But no Girl's Night?"

"Not this week." Julie industriously gathered together more plates for the dishwasher and didn't see the frown on Franky's face.

"Well, we won't accept that excuse for very long, so's you know." With that, Franky buttoned her jacket and adjusted her immobile hair. "I'm off for the best Wednesday night I've had in years. Bye Marble! Bye Julie."

***

Around ten o'clock her feet had started hurting – but it was now two. The usual stragglers had remained, mostly too engrossed in a newspaper or book to ask for much attention from Julie. In turn, she quietly refilled coffee cups and water glasses.

With Franky gone, Marble was her only company tonight. It was a simple nickname given to the chef mostly because he preferred a shaved, shinny scalp to a full head of hair. At about fifty, he was still a force to be reckoned with and ran the kitchen during the late night/morning shifts. The aging black man still managed to wear perfectly white aprons, causing a great enough contrast which Julie found herself sketching quite often.

"Hey, Julie – cigarette break."

Julie nodded as Marble exited through the back of the stainless steel kitchen. As she watched him leave, the front door opened and a customer crept up to the counter.

"Hey, Miss. What's good here?"

A quick turn and Julie couldn't help being agog at the man. Usually at work her shyness didn't bother her so badly. But he is anything but usual. She remembered his name; Peter. After all, it'd been running through her head for days now.

"Miss?" His voice showed a little concern at her silence.

She snapped herself back to the task at hand. He just wants dinner; it's nothing to do with me. "Well, everything is good," and with that she handed him a plastic menu. "What'll you be drinking?"

The intense way he stared at her, she thought he would never answer until his lips curled into a sly smirk, "Coffee."

Briskly she poured him a cup and set out the milk and sugar for it. "I'll give you a few minutes to look over the menu."

Julie's work-autopilot turned on as she bused the last of the straggler's dishes and mugs and cleaned the empty tables and booths out. Luckily most had left quietly and not stiffed her. Occasionally she'd glance over to Peter at the counter who seemed to be totally absorbed in the menu.

Warily she approached and got a closer look without his eyes on her. He seemed a pleasant enough man; he was about her age or a little over, with dark tousled hair and a slight tan. And his posture screamed confidence. Just as she was about to move even closer he lifted his head and looked her directly in the eye.

Startled, Julie lowered her eyes and cautiously raised them back to his level. "Have you figured out what you want?"

Another smirk crossed his face. "I think so; but what would you recommend?"

"Well, the pancakes are good and – and Marble makes a mean burger."

"I'll take the burger, Julie."

Damn name tags. Damn the man who invented them, too. He must have read it and now her knees felt weak just from hearing her name spring from his lips. Instead of embarrassing herself further she nodded and slipped into the kitchen.

"Are you okay, Julie?" Marble stood at the back door. "You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine. Just need a glass of water – and a burger."

"Rare, medium, or hockey puck?"

Julie blushed. "I forgot to ask..." A few deft movements had her filling up a glass of water and drinking it down quickly.

"Go ask then."

She stood, glued to the spot. "I don't think I can go back out there."

A good natured person Marble definitely was; but patient he wasn't. "You've got legs, woman, and a backbone. Use 'em."

"I'll ask him." Julie took a deep breath to steady herself and walked back to the counter. Although she knew he'd be there, her cheeks grew hot – she'd forgotten to account for his piercing eyes. "How would you like it cooked?"

"Medium. Say I've seen you at my bar before, right?" She nodded quickly and jotted down his order, anything to keep from meeting his gaze. "Haven't seen you there very much."

"I work a lot."

"I can see that. What does your boyfriend think of it?"

Peter noticed a slight change in Julie's stance. She appeared sadder somehow. "I haven't a boyfriend."

"Walt will be relieved. He told me to tell you 'hello' and 'will you marry me.'"

She rewarded him with a laugh. Something inside Peter leapt with glee as Julie smiled. "I'm afraid you'll have to be the bearer of bad tidings then."

A composed countenance of nobility overtook Peter's face. "Then I must do what I must do," he sighed and shrugged martyr-like. "I must apologize for before – I was being nosy. And we've never been formally introduced. I'm Peter King." He extended his hand to shake hers but she turned and pretended not to notice.

"Marble, the burger is medium." When she turned back Peter's hand was no longer out. "Julie Barton. I'll be right back with your food."

"And another cup of coffee, please."

***

"I don't know why I showed up – she either thinks I'm an alien with two heads or a hunter with a harpoon."

"Who knows," Walt spoke between chuckles, "she might like that in a man. Maybe she's just the frightened doe type."

"Look, old man; I'm asking for advice. What do I do?"

A large sigh came from Walt's chest. "You silly young people... either you do too much too soon or you do far too little. This is what you do: you go back there some more until she's used to you. Try to have a conversation that goes beyond the daily specials and her availability. I'm sure once she gets used to you it'll be fine. Hell, it even took us a while to get used to your ugly mug."

Peter nodded and suppressed a laugh. "Is that how you got your hot date last night?"

A glint in Walt's eye sparkled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"But why are you going to stalk her, Pete?" Chris could not stand idly by any longer.

"I'm not stalking; I'm just interested."

The cloth Chris had ben using to clean up the mirror was flung at Peter's head. "You know, she might just not like you."

A long pause followed where Peter actually gave this consideration. "Nah – prolly just have to get there at a decent hour or something. So I don't look like, you know –"

"A pathetic loser?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of the aforementioned stalker."

"Well, you can't do much about the loser bit anyway." After a few chuckles got out of his system, Walt murmured, "I heard from a very pretty source that the chicken special is good on Thursdays."

"Did you learn this from your 'hot stuff', too?" The expression on Walt's face reminded Peter of the Cheshire Cat. "Thursday it is."

"Okay, Pete; but if the police officers show up with a restraining order, I don't think it'll be good for business. Especially if you mistakenly get me involved in it like in college when you pissed off--" Chris was cut off from his reminiscing.

"What is the point of having an identical twin if you can't get involved in a Comedy of Errors?" The contained laughter from before rose up on Peter. "Even if he is three inches taller, has a different hairstyle, and no sense of adventure."

Luckily he ducked behind the bar before anything else could be launched his way.