Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [94]
Morgan—lost in the show—had to be reminded by Mindie with a saltshaker to the head that he needed to take the seat Waboombas had just risen from. He dropped into it, apparently weak in the knees, then slowly looked down at the seat beneath him, smiling drunkenly.
“It’s warm,” he said, as if orgasm were imminent.
Meanwhile, Waboombas placed herself gently beside Mindie, smiling and staring at her, reopening her bill-of-fare, and again pretending to read. Incredibly, she could make even that seem sexual.
With a huff, Mindie shook open her own menu and glared into it, her eyes darting around as if they were lasers trying to burn patterns through the plastic-coated paper. Then she remembered she was naked, slapped the menu back onto her breasts and scowled around, apparently certain that at least one of us had tried to steal a look at them, maybe even photograph them for distribution on the Internet. Unfortunately, I had stolen a look, and earned a peppershaker to the head for my foolishness. Brains spilled out the opposite side of my skull.
Really. Brains.
Wishing for an aspirin, I watched as the others also began to scan their menus. Quiet settled over the table.
Now was the time.
“When our waitress gets here,” I told Morgan. “I’ll have the tunamelt and fries.”
“Where are you going?” Mindie asked. This would have been so much easier if she had stayed in the car. Which is probably why God hadn’t made her.
“I need to use the restroom.”
“Which is near the storage room,” Waboombas said.
I shot her a look. I wanted to hit her. But only if she couldn’t hit me back.
Mindie goggled at me, disgusted. “You’re going to use the restroom? Here?”
“I’m certainly not going to hold it in until Aunt Helena arrives and takes us somewhere else.”
The realization that she, too, might not be able to hold out that long clearly horrified Mindie.
“Dear God,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”
“Use the restroom,” I said and turned to run away.
“I’d rather explode,” she said, defiantly.
“There are plenty of towels to clean up afterward,” I said over my shoulder.
“That’s not funny!” she snarled. “Corky! WAIT!”
Knowing I really shouldn’t, I stopped and turned back to her.
“You were getting awfully friendly with that waitress, person,” she said intently.
“Hostess.”
“Whatever.”
“Just being polite,” I laughed. “You catch more flies with honey…”
“Why would you want to catch flies?”
“It’s just a figure of sp…”
“They’re disgusting. They carry germs.”
“I was just trying to say…”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I have to use the rest…”
“You’re not going off to see her, are you?”
My face flushed, and I cursed the genetics that gave me excellent blood flow. I glanced at Waboombas, who smiled, but remarkably said nothing.
“Of course not,” I lied. “Why would I want to see…?”
“You were awfully familiar with her, up front, and she seemed to know your Aunt Helena, which doesn’t surprise me, but...”
“Know my aunt? Noooo. She was just being fresh. Smart-alecky. Pretending she knew her. Wait a minute. Why wouldn’t that surprise you? What…”
“Were you attracted to her?”
“Who? The hostess?”
“No, your Aunt Helena. Yes, the hostess, dim-bulb. This is why father throws darts at you!”
“Mindie!”
“Did you find her attractive? I saw you looking at her breasts you know. You think I didn’t see that?”
“Not in a sexual way. That was merely a curiosity thing.”
Waboombas laughed. Or burped. I ignored her.
“I mean,” I continued, “they were right there. Exposed!”
“I know,” Mindie agreed. Calming a bit. “It’s so revolting. How people can allow themselves to be seen that way in public is beyond me.”
Each of us glanced over at her nakedness, but said nothing.
“I suppose you can’t help yourself.