Now all you have to do is wait. Wait.
Wait…
8:14 p.m.
'Let's go, people, stop the gabbing. We're falling behind schedule.'
'Sorry, Chef.'
'Don't be sorry. Just hold the talk till after dinner. We're way behind on the side dishes for the meat station.'
A waiter careened through the swinging door to the kitchen. 'I can't believe it. Everyone's ordering at exactly the same goddamn time.'
'What did you expect? They all sat at the same goddamn time.'
'Christ, it's hot in here. What happened to the ventilation?'
'All right, all right, what's the pecking order, people?'
'You have some leeway with table thirty-two. A couple of lovebirds. They're practically fucking at the table – they won't care how long they wait for food.'
'Table twelve's the mayor. He's gabbing like he'll never stop and everyone else around him's drinking like a fish so they don't kill themselves. We can hold off on them, too.'
'Okay, people, look at the shrimp. It's getting cold! Cover it, cover it! Do you hear me, Fish, cover the fucking shrimp! Jesus!'
8:19 p.m.
Eleven minutes to go.
Four people in and out of the bathroom so far. Not one even noticed there was anyone else already in there.
Still eleven minutes… wait a second! Oh, shit… Christ, goddamnit, the watch, it isn't working! It isn't fucking working!
Oh, no, it's okay… it's okay. It's fine. The second hand's moving. Everything's okay. It was just my imagination. See? That'll show the One. He always says I don't have an imagination. Well, let's see him say that now. Let's see him try to say it.
Why is everything so slow? It's like everything here is all in slow motion. But the second hand is definitely moving. Things are going forward. It's all going to happen just the way I imagined it. All I have to do is keep waiting.
Just keep waiting…
8:28 p.m.
Jack stared over at the table in the far corner of the restaurant. Table 54. He pulled the server from that station over to the side.
'Watch those two guys, will you?'
'Yes, sir.' The server turned. He saw two men, both fairly broad. One was quite tall with blond hair, the other shorter and darker. 'What's the problem?'
'Probably nothing. They just look angry. They're arguing.
'They've both had a lot to drink. Bourbon and beer.'
'I don't want anything to happen so keep your eyes on them.'
'Okay.'
The kid looked so concerned. Jack patted him on the back. 'Relax. I'm sure I'm just oversensitive tonight. They'll calm down.'
Jack patted him on the back again. He saw Caroline across the room. She was frowning, staring across the room to the table in the corner. He heard the young server say to the two men there, 'Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind keeping your voices down, please? You're getting a little loud.' He heard one of the men say, 'Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry.'
Jack smiled at Caroline. He thought about making love to her later that night and waved.
She waved back and he was sure she was thinking about the exact same thing.
8:29 p.m.
Okay. Get ready. Got the stocking? Right, like I'd forget it.
Then get it out. Get it ready.
It felt funny, felt so tight, tighter than in the practice sessions in front of the mirror.
It was a little hard to breathe.
No, no, it was fine. Take a deep breath. Take another. And one more. See, it's fine. Everything's just right.
The second hand is moving.
The waiting's almost over…
8:30 p.m.
'Fuck you!'
'Don't say that to me.'
'Why not? Fuck you!'
'I'm not kidding, goddamnit! Say it to me again, I'll break your fucking head!'
The server didn't seem to actually run, but he made it to the table in record time. 'Gentlemen, please. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'
The taller man looked up. 'Leave?'
'You're disturbing the other guests.'
'Oh, yeah?' That was from the shorter one.
'Please. Otherwise I'll have to call the police.'
It was the tall one's turn. 'Oh. Well, we wouldn't want you to do that.' He started to stand, then turned to the server. 'I just have one more thing to say.' Now he turned to the other man at the table and screamed, 'Fuck you!' And then: 'Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!'
And then all hell broke loose.
8:31 p.m.
Okay, move. Go, go, go!
Out of the stall, no one in the bathroom. Out the door, no one even in the hallway.
The bar: No one's looking. They're all watching the fight. Or moving far away to help. And she's there. Still right by the bar. Right where she's supposed to be. Right where she said she'd be.
It's working. It's working, it's working, it's working!
Quick, show her the gun. Don't wave it. Not too much. Just make sure she sees it.
Oh, yeah. She sees it. And she's cool. Very cool. She's not showing much, is she? She's not showing anything. But those eyes. Look in her eyes. There, you can see it. Oh, is it terror? Please, please, please, let her he terrified.
No. No, it isn't terror. Amazing.
It's anger.
Okay, gotta move. Make her move. Fast!
Yes! She's moving.
No more waiting. Ever again.
