Part 6 (1/2)
”Valentini, eh?” Laverne's father muttered. ”You an Italian?”
He said the word like Eye-talian.
”Yes, sir,” Flip said. He was being especially polite.
Laverne's father made a face. It didn't look like he liked Italians any better than blacks. He didn't look like he liked anybody.
I don't always carry money with me, but I patted my pocket and breathed a sigh of relief that my wallet was in there. I still had the twenty-dollar bill I would have used if Flip hadn't outbid me on the eBay auction. I handed it to Laverne's father.
”Lunch is on me,” I said. I'd always wanted to say, ”Lunch is on me.” It made me feel like a big shot.
Laverne's father took my bill and looked at it.
”This is a fake!” he said. ”This ain't no real twenty! Look at that. Andrew Jackson's head is too big, and it ain't in the middle!”
”It's not fake!” I said, ”It's-”
What was I supposed to say? That the bill was printed in the twenty-first century and I traveled back through time with it?
”It's a new bill, sir,” Flip said. ”Just issued.”
”You two are counterfeiters!” Laverne's father shouted. Then he took my bill and ripped it in half.
”Hey!” I yelled. ”That's perfectly good money!”
”Tell it to the cops,” Laverne's father said. He was reaching for the phone on the counter. Flip put his hand over the phone.
”No need to call the police, sir,” Flip said, forcing a laugh. ”We were just kiddin' with that bill. Do you accept American Express cards?”
”American Express?” asked Laverne's father. ”What's that?”
”Look, I'll write you a check,” Flip said.
”I ain't takin' your d.a.m.n check!” said Laverne's father. ”You try to pa.s.s counterfeit dough and you think I'm gonna take your check? I accept cash, son. Cold, hard cash. If you ain't got none, I got a lotta dishes in the back that need was.h.i.+n'.”
”You wouldn't by any chance have an ATM here, would you?” I asked.
”A what?”
Laverne's dad grabbed Flip by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen. I followed. There was a huge sink back there. It looked more like a bathtub. Dishes and pots were piled up higher than my head.
”Start scrubbin',” Laverne's father said. ”And they better be squeaky clean, or you're gonna have to do 'em all over again.”
Laverne's dad went back to his grill on the other side of the kitchen. That's when I got a great idea. We didn't have to wash these stupid dishes. We could just take my new pack of baseball cards and get out of there. Go home. Back to our own century. We didn't need this aggravation.
But Flip wouldn't go for it. When I told him about my brainstorm, he said that wouldn't be right. We had ordered seventeen dollars' worth of food, and we had to pay for seventeen dollars' worth of food. If we didn't have the money, the right thing to do would be to wash the dishes.
”We had the money!” I said. ”He ripped up my twenty-dollar bill!”
”I'll wash,” Flip said. ”You dry.”
That's one thing about Flip that drives me crazy. He always has to do the right thing.
Flip put on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and grabbed a big hunk of steel wool. I picked up a towel. We got to work.
It felt like it took a year, but it was probably only an hour or two. I felt sorry for Flip. The pots were caked with food and grease and crud and who knows what. It was disgusting. I made a mental note to be sure to go to college so I wouldn't have to grow up and wash dishes for a living.
We were about halfway done when Laverne suddenly poked her head into the sink area. She looked around to make sure her father didn't see her. Flip tried to fix his hair, but he had soap on his rubber glove and all he accomplished was putting some bubbles on the top of his head. He was pretty funny looking.
”I'm sorry about Daddy,” Laverne said. ”Sometimes he's”
”It's okay,” Flip said. ”It's not your fault.”
”Listen,” Laverne said, ”I just wanted to tell you boys that was a kind thing you did out there for the colored men on the bus.”
”It was all Flip's idea,” I said.
”Well, I think you're very brave,” she said, reaching up and brus.h.i.+ng some bubbles off Flip's hair.
”It was nothin',” Flip said. His face was all red.
”Are you gonna be in town for a while?” Laverne asked.
”Nah,” Flip said. ”We're heading for Pittsburgh.”
”Pittsburgh!” she said. ”Lordy, that's five hundred miles away! I wish I could see a big city like Pittsburgh.”
”We're going to see Satchel Paige pitch,” I added.
”Where's Laverne?” her father suddenly shouted from the dining room. ”We got customers waitin' out here!”
Laverne quickly reached into her ap.r.o.n and pulled out a handful of change.
”Here,” she said, pressing the coins into Flip's hand. ”You'll need money to get to Pittsburgh.”
Laverne scurried away. Flip put the money in his pocket and grabbed the next pot to wash.
”Flip!” I said. ”She's crazy about you! That's her tip money. You gotta ask her out, man!”
”Stosh, that girl is seventeen years old,” Flip said. ”I'm seventy-two!”
”Not here you aren't!” I insisted. ”If you don't ask her out, I'm going to come back in five years when I'm eighteen and ask her out myself.”
”You do that, Stosh.”
Poor Flip. When it came to women, he just didn't know what to say or do. He got all shy and nervous. I told him he should just be himself and talk to Laverne. You know, ask her what she likes to do. Make conversation. Flip said he'd think about it. There was just no talking sense to him.