"I'm hungry," Marcia whined.
I kept telling myself it's worth it. Only at the Mall Food Court can you stand in line for a hour for a delectable slice of cheese pizza. You know, the kind that leaves behind that triangular grease spot on the paper plate after you've picked it up to bite into it, reminding you that most of the grease is on its way to clogging your arteries.
It's worth it
, I repeated to myself, as the young dad at the front of the line seized "ordering lunch" as a learning opportunity for his snot-nosed kid, already out of sorts since there's no Happy Meal and hence no toy coming with lunch today.
"Tell him what you want, Austin."
"Pizza! YAY, Pizza, pizza, pizza!"
"What kind?"
"What kind do they have, Daddy?"
"Look at the menu, big guy. You're my big reader now."
"Where's the TOY?" Austin screamed.
"We've been through that already, Austin. This isn't McDonald's. Do you see Ronald anywhere?"
I was about to offer to buy Austin and his daddy their lunch if I could order for them, when the tight-lipped stone-faced "Where are we, Sesame Street?" stare from the attitude-rich girl behind the cash register altered Daddy's approach. "Oh, I'm sorry, we'll have two slices of cheese pizza, a lemonade, and an…what kind of bottled water do you have?"
"Aquafina," came the flat reply from behind the register.
You're my big reader now
is what I would have added, but I'm sure I wouldn't last long working at Sbarro's.
It's worth it
. Austin and Austin's Daddy made their way to their table as I turned my attention to the woman from Stride-Rite in front of us. I won the bet I made with myself that she was coming with multiple orders that would each have to be rung up separately, she'd have separate money for each, AND she'd have to call one of her co-workers to tell her there was no…whatever it was she wanted…left, and that she'd have to order something else.
"Feed me, NOW!" Marcia added, tugging at my sleeve. She was half-whining, half-kidding, but I was scarcely amused. I stared straight ahead, arms crossed, reminding myself every minute we stood in line was one less minute of knick-knack shopping at Kirkland's or "God, these jeans make my butt look huge" at Levi-Strauss.
"You take me to the nicest places," Marcia continued.
Gawd, it's a Saturday afternoon, we were out to dinner last night, what more does she want???
I was in a mood to snap at her but decided it was hardly worth the aggravation. "Sorry, dear. You getting the special with the chicken wings?"
Bad question
.
"Of course not. I'm getting the salad just like I told you. Don't you ever listen to me? Look at these thighs!! LOOK at them!" Honestly I couldn't stand to look at those thighs anymore. She got this hostile leer on her face. "Do you think these thighs can afford my eating pizza and chicken wings? I can't hide my fat like you can."
Blah blah blah blah blah
. Somebody just shoot me. Why I got back together with her after we broke up the last time is beyond me. Fortunately the line started moving quickly once the order for the hungry staff at Stride-Rite was fulfilled. Marcia got her salad and Diet Coke, though the good money was on her getting Haagen Dazs after lunch. As for me, I got the special, slice of pizza, chicken wings, regular Coke, and I was DEFINITELY getting the Haagen Dazs. I could in fact hide it much better than Marcia, tall as I was. One more thing for her to hate about me.
We sat down next to a table where four girls were sitting. One of them was particularly cute. She had dark hair and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. All she was eating was a big box of French Fries from Burger King, and looked like she didn't have an ounce of fat on her (which guaranteed Marcia would hate her, too!) I caught her eye as I sat down, expecting her to look away, but she held her gaze, not that I'm anything special for her to look at, but probably to get me in trouble.
It worked. "Just what are you staring at?" Marcia demanded. "You waaant her, don't you?"
It had been so long since I'd gotten laid I wanted pretty much anybody that was for sure. But this young lady was finer than frog hair. I quickly imagined some of the things I'd like to do to her before I was rudely interrupted.
"Why don't you put your tongue back in your mouth and go get me a napkin?" Marcia said. "I just dripped salad dressing all over me."
I grudgingly obliged. On my way back I saw French Fry Eating Girl catching my attention. Her friends were giggling, probably at me. She was sucking on one of her fries and staring rather seductively at me. I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile. While I didn't exactly understand it I certainly enjoyed the attention. I was sure she was just fuckin' with me when all of a sudden she got up to walk past us. Musta wanted more french fries.
As she walked by our table she suddenly bent over to pick something up. She brushed her dangling hair back behind her ear, holding it in place, as a hot pink thong poked out from beneath her ultrashort denim skirt. I became fixated with the word "Hottie" tattooed between her sacral dimples, and I had to tell myself not to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of her bare ass should the thong fail to completely cover it.
"Disguuuusting!", Marcia said, definitely loud enough for Miss French Fries to hear and jolting me back from Planet Hottie. But Miss Fries just laughed when she heard Marcia, satisfied she'd pissed her and every other woman off in about a hundred yard radius. She stood right back up, apparently not having actually picked up anything, and went to refill her drink.
The rest of lunch went without incident. Good for me I didn't get smacked. But, true to form, Marcia did get her ice cream and proceeded to blame me for it.
After she was done snarfing down her dessert, we walked toward where the kiosks were that sold sunglasses, personalized license plates, cell phones, whatever. In the middle were about half a dozen of those massage chairs, where you stuck your face down in them to let someone rub you down for 15 minutes (or 30 if you were willing to pay).
"God I'm so stressed, but I'm sure you wouldn't pay for me to get one of those, would you?" Marcia whined. Just as she said that, I saw the little hottie walking by, alone this time, catching my attention once again. This time Marcia didn't notice her, all too engrossed with the massage chair.
I figured I'd take Marcia by surprise. "You know what, not only will I get you the massage, I want you to have the full treatment."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go look for some Playstation games for my nephew, why don't you get the full 1/2 hour?"
"Gee, thanks." She thought of something to say that I was sure would ruin the moment. I was right.
"You're going to look at games for a half an hour? You COULD go to the jewelry store, you know. I'm not getting any younger."
Relentless. Don't hold your breath. On second thought, go right ahead.
"Just enjoy the massage. I'll be right back."
Marcia sat down in the chair and buried her face. Best she'd looked all day. That gave me a few minutes to see if I could track down Miss French Fries.
I began looking around for her when a voice behind me said, "Nice move, big boy. Hope you got her the full half hour."
My knees got a little weak as I turned around and saw Miss French Fries. This time I got a good look at her and noticed fully just how pretty she was. "We don't have much time, you know."
"Much time for what?" I asked, brimming with hope and anticipation.
"Come with me."
She took me by the arm and whisked me into Nordstrom's, where we headed over to Ladies Sportswear. I had a feeling where this could be heading but it seemed too good to be true.
"One of my friends works here. Here, take this." She handed me a couple sweaters and a blouse, and she grabbed a couple others which she held onto. "Follow me to the dressing rooms."
