lumpy crabmeat swimming in congealed cream sauce the consistency of wet cement, the dish Katie warned me about.
I order the prime rib. I'm sure it'll clog my arteries, too, but I'm only twenty-five, and I figure I have years to repent for such youthful cholesterol sins.
Silverware scrapes across plates. The chief happily demolishes his crab pie and tells us stories about where he used to work. Florida. He asks Ceepak about Iraq, but all Ceepak says is, “It was something.”
That's as far as he'll go tonight.
So, we move on to a new topic. Labor Day and the big beach blowout.
“I think we're ready,” the chief says. He puts away a huge slug of scotch and water. Licks his lips. “As ready as we'll ever be.”
After our main courses, Rita comes by to wonder if we'll be having dessert and coffee.
The chief can't. He has to run. He's got a meeting with some MTV folks at the Sea Spray Hotel. He's looking pretty pleased with himself.
He stands up. So does Ceepak. So do I.
“Rita?” The chief signs the credit card slip. “If these two gentlemen order anything else, just add it on. And make sure you give yourself a nice tip.”
“I'm sorry, sir-I can't do that.”
“Oh?” The chief flashes her a dazzling grin. I think he uses those Crest Whitestrips.
“I mean-I can't fill in the tip amount. That wouldn't be right.”
I think I just heard Ceepak's heart skip a beat, and it has nothing to do with cholesterol-clogged arteries. Sounds like Rita has Ethics, maybe even a Code.
“Why don't you just put what we've had up till now on your charge slip,” Ceepak suggests. “Then, if Danny and I order dessert, I'll pick up the tab. I'd like to treat my new partner this evening, as well.”
“Fair enough.” Baines scribbles some numbers in the boxes on the credit card slip and signs it. Ceepak and Rita smile at each other. I enjoy having everybody else pay for my food and booze.
“Catch you guys tomorrow,” Baines says.
“Roger that.”
We sit back down. Rita pulls out her pad.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Danny? How about another beer?”
“Are you having one?”
“Is it possible for one to call a cab should that prove necessary?” Ceepak asks Rita.
“Of course. Another round?”
“No. I'd like a Sambucca.”
“Very good, sir.” She's impressed.
“And a slice of the Mississippi Mud Pie.”
“Excellent choice.”
“I'll try that too,” I say.
“Would you like a scoop of ice cream on the pie?”
“Of course,” Ceepak says. I think he wants to stay here all night. “Chocolate ice cream.”
“Try the caramel crunch,” Rita whispers. “It's fantastic.”
Ceepak smiles. Nods. “Caramel crunch. That'll work.”
Rita is writing up our drink and dessert order when T. J. walks into the restaurant. What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be out defacing signs and maiming people with paintball blasts? Now he's wearing a Burger King uniform like he works there, too. He heads straight to our table.
“Mom?” He's talking to Rita.
“Hey. What's wrong?”
“Nothin'. I just forgot my keys.”
Rita looks sort of embarrassed to be interrupting our dinner with her personal life. “I'm sorry …”
“No problem,” says Ceepak.
“I'll get my keys,” she says to her son.
“Thanks.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
“Half a Whaler.”
Rita nods her head toward a small table near the back of the dining room.
“Go sit down. I'll have the kitchen fix you some real food.”
Ceepak stands up.
“Is this your son?” he asks.
“Yes. I'm sorry. This is T. J. Thomas James.”
Ceepak sticks out his hand. T. J. takes it. They shake.
“I'm John Ceepak. This is my partner, Danny Boyle.”
I stand up, shake the kid's hand, wonder whether he's had time to scrub that blue paint out from under his nails.
Ceepak doesn't lie about meeting T. J. earlier. But he doesn't rat him out to his mother, either. Rita beams. She's proud to see her boy being treated like such a man.
“Go grab a seat, hon.”
“Okay, mom.”
I polish off my second beer and then hit the head. While I'm gone, Rita brings dessert.
When that's done and there's nothing on our plates but Mississippi mud stains, Ceepak calls Rita back to the table so he can order coffee.
T. J.'s at the staff table inhaling a salad and some fried shrimp smothered with ketchup. I can see that his mom makes him drink a glass of milk, too.
Ceepak pays for dessert and the second round of drinks.
“Should I call that cab?” Rita asks.
“Danny?”
“I'm good to go.”
Ceepak looks at his watch. It's almost ten P.M. He's been timing my beers. Plus, I've had two cups of coffee. I can see Ceepak's internal calculator doing the math.
“No, thank you, Rita.” I guess I made it under the wire. “Everything was wonderful. Best meal I've had since moving to the island. And it was definitely a pleasure meeting you.”
Rita blushes. “I hope we'll see you in here you more often.”
I can't tell whether she's speaking on behalf of Morgan's or herself.
“I'd like that. Danny?”
“Thank you, ma'am. Everything was great.”
“Thank you. Oh-and congratulations on your new job.”
“Thanks.”
Ceepak and I head toward the front door.
“Danny?”
It's Olivia.
“Yeah?”
“Can you guys hang for a second? The kitchen made key lime pie tonight. It's Jess's favorite.”
“Then I definitely need to take him a slice.”
“Thanks.”
“Is he home?”
“No. Working.”
“No problem.”
“You want some, too?”
I never say no to cake or pie.
“Totally.”
