Page 59 of Sweet T
Shelly was waiting at the bar for him. “Don’t waste your talents on him, Sebastian. He doesn’t have a clue. Save your highbrow stuff for me.”
“Ah!” Sebastian said, moving toward his usual seat at the bar. “You’re looking especially beautiful tonight, my dear. And you already have a brandy for me. It provokes the desire, you know, but takes away from the performance.”
“You show desire for me, and I’ll know you’re an impostor.”
“True that,” Sebastian said, sitting. “I haven’t made love with a woman since 1967, the summer of love. That fall, I met my sweet Gerald and the enormous magic that hung between his legs. I never went back.”
“I can relate,” Shelly said, reflecting. “Nothing like a magic dick.”
She turned to find Ben standing beside her with a piece of cardstock. His face was scarlet, a much darker shade than his strawberry blond hair. “Uh, here are tonight’s specials,” he said, handing her the menu and fleeing.
Shelly passed it over to Sebastian, pointing out the bold print as she did so. “French Dips, my favorite. The roast beef is fantastic. He tops them with smoked provolone and crispy fried onions. Comes with a loaded baked potato and sauteed mushrooms.”
“Can I get fries instead of the potato?” Sebastian asked.
“Of course.”
“Sold.” Sebastian handed her back the menu without even glancing at it.
Shelly wrote a ticket for the order and took it back to Ben. She returned with a roll of silverware. “So, what’s the news with Goneril and the gang?” She reached low for a tumbler, filled it with ice and water, and placed it, along with the silverware, in front of him.
“I’m posting the cast list when I leave here. We’ll be fine. I’m just longing for Dom Pérignon on a Dollar Tree budget.”
“I’m sure it will be wonderful.”
“You’re very sweet. I’ll reserve you and Tucker's front row seats for opening night. On the house.”
“Did I hear my name?” Tucker said, joining them.
“You did.” Shelly stooped to the safe to retrieve the cash drawer. “Sebastian’s hooking us up with good seats for King Lear when it opens.”
“Yeah, uh.” Tucker stammered. “You’ll probably have to, um, make that for Shelly only, my friend.”
Sebastian reached for Tucker’s hand. “I insist,” he said. “Everyone should experience the Bard live at least once. I know the language is antiquated and hard to understand, but to see it performed is entirely different. You’ll understand and enjoy what you see, I assure you.”
“I believe you. And I would enjoy it just for a change of scenery. But unless it’s a Sunday, one of us has to be here.”
“Oh.” Sebastian’s eyes drifted with thought. “I don’t anticipate a matinee. In this town, I’ll be lucky to run two nights, especially Shakespeare. Only comedies fill seats. But, no worries. You can come separately... and bring dates. Friday and Saturday, July 24th and 25th.”
“That’s the weekend Daddy’s getting married.”
“Yes, I know. He asked me for help writing his vows. But that’s on Sunday.”
“Still no good,” Shelly said, rising and inserting the cash tray into the register drawer before closing it. “Fridays and Saturdays are tough for both of us. I would never ask Tucker for one of those nights off, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let him leave me by myself.”
“You guys need to hire more people,” Sebastian said, sipping from his snifter.
“I just did,” Tucker said. “Temporarily anyway. He’s back there with Ben training as we speak. I was thinking of giving Shelly and me an additional day off once he’s up to speed.”
“Really?” Shelly smiled. “Wow. Today just got a whole lot better.”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you. Since Wednesdays and Thursdays are slow, I thought maybe we could alternate those nights off. Me and Evan take Wednesdays, and you and Ben take Thursdays.”
“How come it’s you and Evan?” Shelly asked, tauntingly. “Why can’t it be you and Ben?”
“Because Evan doesn’t have a car, smartypants. Do you want to drive out to my house and pick him up?”
“Slick, boss-man. Real slick.” She emphasized the comment with her soon-to-be patented eye roll.