"ANDREW? No, there’s no-one of that name here.” The floor manager of the Diner was quite clear. “Are you sure you got the right name, honey?”
“Nope, no ANDYs neither. You must have gotten the wrong information.” The English lady was starting to annoy him. “You wanna order?”
“Do you do coffee?”
“Lady, of course we do cawfee.”
“I don’t mean that brown stuff that sits in a jug all day. I mean proper coffee.”
“Like I said, ma’am, we do cawfee. Proper cawfee. When there’s a Starbucks at the gas station 60 miles down the road, we have to.”
“I don’t see a machine.”
“It’s out back. And hey, where’s your friend gone?”
“Anita? She’s in the Rest Room, I guess. It’s been quite a drive to get here.”
“Yeah, right. So?”
“OK. Two double espressos, please. Do i wait at the counter?”
“No, take a seat. We’re not exactly busy except for the last of the big spenders over there,” he said looking round the joint. A surly looking trucker sitting in the corner overheard and glanced up from his phone. He took a slurp from his Mega-Gulp slush puppie and his eyes tracked the legs of the lady stood at the counter. He looked her up and down. Not so much out his league but outside of anything he’d want. She reminded him of those stuck-up bitches you get in Hollywood movies. He preferred the pretty waitress with her English accent. She was kind of cute and reminded him of his daughter back in Vermont. His eyes returned to Crossy Road his phone. “What’s the name?”
“Marianne.”
The manager punched the order on his till. “Ok, Marianne. The girl will bring it through.”
“And you’re sure you haven’t seen a young man come through named Andrew. He’d probably have been with an older lady. She’s not much to look at but he’s quite cute. Looks younger than his age – you might think he was more a boy than a man.”
‘Like I said lady, no Andrews here,” he said firmly. “Say, are you and your friend Bounty Hunters?”
“You could think of us as Bounty Hunters if you like.”
“So, what’s this Andrew done? Is he on the run?”
“Oh, nothing bad, if that’s what you mean. But he has walked out on a contract, or at least his lady has. We need him back.”
Her colleague emerged from the Rest Room. She was staring at her phone. “I’m sure he’s around here. The tracker’s still active,” she muttered to herself
“And the lady?”
“Let’s just say, she’ll be seen to. But first we need to find him. She’s never far from him. Or more correctly, she doesn’t allow him very far from her.”
The door to the kitchen started to open and a pretty blonde girl backed through it carrying a tray with their drinks. “Order for Marianne,” she called.
“Looks like it’s done,” said the manager. “Y’all better take your seats. Do wanna take the winder table? Hey, Mandy, over by the winder wid’ da ladies’ cawfee.” The trucker stirred again at the sight of the waitress. This time he took notice and his eyes stayed fastened on her. Her pink ra-ra dress and little bell-hop cap captured the fifties feel of the diner, but the shiny fabric made her look like something from a sci-fi movie. Latex. It had to be latex.
Anita’s phone started to bleep. She held it up. Marianne turned and started to point. “Is it him?” she asked her colleague.
Anita said, “It’s him!”
“Who’s him?” questioned the manager.
“That’s Andrew,” said Marianne.
“Lady, don’t be a dumb ass!” exclaimed the manager. “That’s Mandy.”
“Hey, Andy!” called Anita and the girl swung round to look at her. The trucker thought her little cap made her look cuter than cute.
“It’s definitely him,” said Anita comparing the features of the startled waitress with the image on her phone. “He’s gone blonde and looks quite the innocent bimbo, but it’s him.” In shock, the pretty girl let go of her tray and the cups went flying. The trucker could see that she looked terrified.
“He’s coming with us,” declared Marianne.
“I don’t think so, ladies. Amanda has to finish her shift before she goes anywhere.”
“Oh, he’s coming with us. And then we’re going to find his lady too. She’ll pay for this.” Anita moved to grab the waitress’s sleeve.
“But, I don’t want to go,” shrieked the waitress. “Auntie said I was to work here.”
“You’d better call her then,” said Marianne
“Ladies, Mandy ain’t calling no-one. There’s only one call gonna be made here: I’m gonna call a State Trooper if you don’t take your hands off her,” said the manager. Unnoticed the trucker slid from his seat and out the back of the Diner. He could sense trouble brewing. He didn’t want to be around if a State Trooper was on the way.
“There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can settle things amicably,” said Marianne. They heard a truck rev into life on the lot.
“My phone’s out back,” said the waitress.
“Well go and get it,” instructed Anita releasing Mandy from her grip. The waitress scuttled back through the swing door.
“How much do I owe you for the coffees,” asked Marianne, a brown puddle was spreading on the floor where the waitress had dropped them , “even if we didn’t get to drink them? I’m sure you’d like a special gratuity for your trouble.”
“There ain’t gonna be no trouble, lady. No need to pay just now. You’re probably gonna need a refill if not lunch.” There was a revving, crunching sound outside as the truck engaged its first gear and started to chug forward.
“We won’t be staying for lunch,” said Marianne. “We want to get on the road with Andrew as soon as possible.”
“Sure. And it’s Mandy not Andrew, and I don’t think you will.”
“Why’s that?”
“Were you ladies driving a Buick convertible? The one parked out front in the shade?”
“Yes, that’s us,” said Anita.
“Nice vehicle.”
“Yes,” agreed Marianne.
“Well, it was.”
Anita and Marianne rushed to the window of the Diner. A monster double trailer truck was slowly pulling across the lot. The rear end of their Buick was crushed where the truck had ridden over it. The ladies stared in shock at what had happened to their vehicle. From the passenger seat of the truck, the waitress gave a shy, little wave before the swung out from the lot back on to the highway.
“The swine. What can we do?” Marianne asked the manager.
“Did yer get his registrashun?”
“Er, no.”
“Way I see it, you got two opshuns.”
“Right?”
“I could call that Trooper?” The ladies looked at each other and nodded. “But seeing as he’s ma brother, and I’d say you wuz trying to kidnap ma waitress, I ain’t so sure that’d be a good idea.”
“Maybe not. So what’s the other option?”
“I call the recovery service.”
“OK. How long would that be? Not long. Maybe three. Maybe four.”
“That’d be great,” said Marianne. “Maybe a quick coffee then while we wait, please. He won’t get far in that lumbering truck.”
“Ok, honey.” This time the manager enjoyed seeing Marianne grimace. “Two cawfees coming right up.”
Marianne and Anita sat down, quietly cursing both Andy, the trucker and the manager.
Five minutes later they were pleased to hear the loud roar of a vehicle approaching the Diner’s lot. But it wasn’t a recovery pick-up truck, it was a low-slung red Ferrari 488. It halted outside the window of the Diner, its engine still running. The darkened driver’s window lowered slightly and a clenched hand emerged. Slowly an immaculately manicured and red nail varnished middle finger extended itself upwards. The finger stayed erect for a few seconds and then the hand withdrew back inside the vehicle and the window was raised. The Ferrari’s revs increased to a crescendo that shook the windows of the Diner and, with a squeal of tyres, sped away westwards as if in pursuit of the truck that had so recently left the lot.
Marianne and Anita sat frozen open-mouthed. They looked askance at each other. “How long did you say the recovery truck would take?”
“Like I said, three or four.”
“Well, it’s been at least five minutes already,” protested Marianne.
“Three or four hours, ladies.”
“Hours!” shrieked Anita.
“Well seeing as they’re in the next County, that ain’t bad. You sure you don’t want lunch? We do good burgers. The Pink Pansy Diner prides itself on its burgers.”
Isn't is always that everyone in these small towns are related. Maybe Auntie and her nephew will find a larger town to get lost in. Maybe up North near ski country. Maybe Andy will find work in a day care or as a ski instructor for little kiddies. Thanks for a lovely story and a view into another chapter of the avails and adventures of the pair on the lam. Always a delight.
ReplyDeleteLike somewhere near where someone might like to go skiing, I am sure Andy would stand out where he and Aunt Jane go xxx
DeleteThanks Skinnie, that's the most exhilarating small town story in years and the crowning glory, Mandy.
ReplyDeleteI saw one of those pictures of Amanda come through on my newsfeed the other day and am so glad you found more. 50 is the best age ;)
xx
I nearly fell over when William Wilde tweeted the first pic and then my own news feed went crazy. What a delight.
DeleteThank you Aidan xxx
Thank you Aidan, pleased you enjoyed. Another little piece of inspired by Andy's art.
DeleteWhile this one may stray 'off piste' from Andy's vision of the Bounty Hunters successfully abducting their BOY! supermodel from a mid-West Nowheresville, I'm sure they will get further opportunities at some winter hideaway of Aunt Jane's in upstate New York near Lake Placid. Or maybe, the two fugitives will continue westwards to Jackson Hole or Boulder? We'll have to see. I'm sure Andy will have thought about a suitable streamlined (but insulated) latex catsuit for the slopes to accompany with his BOY! après-ski wear ( https://www.patreon.com/posts/january-calendar-45558724 ).
S xxx
Let's just hope Aunt Jane stays clear of the Overlook Hotel (or The Stanley Hotel, CO). We wouldn't want anything nasty happening, would we? At least he's a Mandy not a Wendy. [One for the film buffs, I'm afraid.]
Not Wendy from Peter Pan or South Park? She may have been a good little witch as well. (S)he will definitely make a scene Upstate, NY or farther up to Killington or Sugarbush in VT.
DeleteQuite the hit at any après ski club or fireplace. Unless he is trying to be inconspicuous, as if that were possible. Could Lady Jane get a job as well? Retail, upscale clothing or even real estate sales and rental. Difficult to stay under the radar.
Thank you Andy, and thank you Ms Holden. Who knew both both would like pink latex?
ReplyDeleteS xxx
Bless you my dear Stallion XXX
DeleteIt was a privilege to be in the same post as the glorious Ms Holden. xxx
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