I could see a gray-haired black cook through the order window at the back. He had on a white cook's hat, a stained white shirt, and lots of sweat. He hadn't been working Christmas Day when I was here. He didn't wave as we came in. Neither did anyone else. The mother of the sweet boys who I had spoken with on Christmas smiled at me, the sort you give someone you know probably has a short time to live. Or maybe she just loved me and my little friend.
The cook looked at Leonard, shook his head, went to furiously scraping at something out of our sight.
We went over to a couple of stools at the end of the counter, sat down in front of a rack holding salt and pepper shakers, a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of Tabasco sauce.
There was a plump middle-aged man sitting next to Leonard. He was smoking a cigar. He blew out smoke, rolled up the newspaper he was reading, put it under his arm, picked up his coffee cup, found a seat beside another man in a booth at the back.
'Did I fart?' Leonard said.
The smiling woman came over. She looked nervous. 'Would you gentlemen like something to go?'
This, of course, was the better idea, and I'll be honest, I was scared, all those fuckers looking at us, licking their chops, but I'd seen too many cowboy movies, and a cowboy doesn't run.
Of course, a movie cowboy usually has a stand-in.
'No,' I said. 'We'd like something to stay. I want flapjacks and eggs and biscuits and coffee. My buddy here will have the same.'
'I will?' Leonard asked.
'You will,' I said.
Leonard tipped his hat at the lady. 'I will,' he said.
The woman looked at us sadly and went away.
The brothers came over and stood by me, one on either side. The one with the bad mustache smiled, said, 'There ain't no Christmas ants, are there?'
'No, son, guess there aren't,' I said.
'You lied to us?'
'Yes, I did.'
'That was a good one,' Bad Mustache said. He grinned at me, then he and his brother moved to the rear of the cafe and took a booth together.
The door opened, let in the cold wind. We turned toward a voice saying: 'You boys passing through?'
The voice belonged to a man in a gray waterproof topcoat and an expensive gray cowboy hat over which was attached a clear plastic rain cover. He eased off the topcoat, shook the rain from it onto the floor, hung it on a peg by the door, put his hat on another peg.
He looked to be in his sixties. He was the only man in the place wearing a suit. It was a nice, dark gray suit, expensive in a J.C. Penney's best sort of way. He had gray hair, perfectly combed, not mussed by his hat. It was held in place with enough hair spray to make an evangelist proud. He wore a bright red tie. It was tacked with a gold horseshoe to a crisp white shirt. He had on gray lizard-skin cowboy boots. He had a muscular build, with a slight paunch. His skin was very pale. He looked very proud of himself.
On one side of Gray Suit was a rather sizable gentleman who looked as if he could snap a baseball bat over his knee. I affectionately thought of him as Bear.
On the other side of Gray Suit was an even larger gentleman with enormous shoulders, a big belly, and a very wide ass. He looked as if he'd enjoy jerking a knot in a gorilla's dick on his worst day. I affectionately dubbed him Elephant.
'What'd you say?' Leonard asked Gray Suit.
Gray Suit grinned. He had a very precious deep dimple in his right cheek. I think he liked that dimple. I think he thought it got him lots of pussy. I wished I had a dimple. I wished I had all my hair. I wished the gray in my hair looked as cool as the gray in his hair. I wished I'd stayed home. I wouldn't have minded some pussy either.
Gray Suit kept right on smiling. 'I said, are you two passing through?'
Before we could answer, he went over to a booth, and the men sitting there got up casually, with their plates and coffee, and found another seat. Gray Suit slid in against the wall. Bear sat in the seat beside him. Elephant took a seat across the table from Bear. The rain outside came down hard and consistent. Good sleeping weather.
Leonard said, 'Naw, we ain't passing through. Actually, we was sorta thinking of moving here.'
'And for what reason?' Gray Suit said.
'We were thinking of opening up a little Afro-American Cultural Center. That's a black thing, see. Hap here would be working for me.'
'I does right,' I said, 'sometimes, Mr. Leonard, he lets me takes off a little early on Friday afternoon and he give me a fifty-cent tip.'
Gray Suit smiled, said to the lady behind the counter, 'Maude. I'd like some coffee. The boys here would like some too. Keep it coming.'
Maude gave Gray Suit a look that could have raised tumors. Gray Suit acted as if he hadn't noticed. He turned his attention back to Leonard, said: 'You know, when I was a little boy, right here in Grovetown, we used to have traveling minstrel shows.' He paused and looked at Leonard. 'You know what those are, boy?'
'I ain't wearing no knee pants,' Leonard said. 'Don't call me boy. Don't call my friend here boy neither.'
'All right,' Gray Suit said. 'Man. Isn't that what you people prefer? Man?'
