Lunch with the Do-Nothings at the Tammy Dinette

by Killian B. Brewer

  “What?”

  “Well, thanks to you, they took away Miss Delores’s keys.”

  “Ugh. Yes. Everyone keeps reminding me.”

  “Well, her sister called and asked me to help her figure out a good sales price for the car since Miss Delores can’t drive it anymore.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “I convinced her to sell it to you at a real good price.”

  “Oh.” Marcus stepped back from the counter a bit, his face falling. “Well, thank you, but I really don’t have much money until I sell my grandmother’s house…”

  A big grin spread across Hank’s face. “The price is zero. I mean her sister almost killed you, right?”

  “But the accident was my fault. I swerved into her lane. I can’t just—”

  “Fiat, shut up and take the damned car.”

  Marcus looked at the floor. It’s a car. But it’s another man giving me a car. What does he want in return? It’s a way out of here. Do it. DO IT.

  “Fiat?” Hank snapped his fingers to get Marcus’s attention. “You there?”

  “It’s kind of big.”

  “It’s also kind of free. And you won’t find a smaller car here. The men all want their trucks and the women won’t drive little cars. Their hair won’t fit inside.”

  “Right. Right.” Marcus looked at Hank. “Okay.”

  “Great. So, it’s settled. Come by the shop and pick it up later in the week. I can get the title work from Miss Richards and bam!”

  “Ironic choice of words for her.”

  “Heh. Yeah. Speaking of the shop, I better get on back. I’ve been away too long as it is.”

  “But you just got here.”

  “Well, time and carburetors wait for no man. And I left Skeet watching the counter. He’s probably so wrapped up in the television or texting with Frankie that someone walked away with the whole inventory.” Hank jumped off the stool and brushed a few crumbs from the front of his shirt. “Thanks so much for the lunch. It was absolutely perfect. Damn fine eggs. Damn fine.”

  “Well, it was to thank you for helping me with the car.” Marcus walked to the end of the counter and stood beside Hank. He crossed his arms and rocked on his heels. “Now that you’ve found me a new car I’m going to have to thank you again.”

  “So you are saying every time I do something nice for you, you will cook me a meal?”

  Marcus laughed. “I guess that is a plan I can work with.”

  “Well, clearly,” Hank said as he patted his belly, “I’ve got to be more of an asshole or I’m going to be as big as a house.”

  “No, seriously. Why don’t you come over to the house Thursday night and I will make you dinner? And not just eggs. I’ll do something nicer.”

  “That sounds like a plan. You live over by Skeet’s grandmother, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Well, then, Thursday night it is. And I’m serious about the car. Come get it whenever.” Hank nodded a quick farewell, shook Marcus’s hand, and walked out of the diner.

  Marcus, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, watched Hank go. He exhaled deeply and spun on his heels to go back into the kitchen and ran directly into the two women who were standing behind him. Marcus startled at the women’s closeness and inquisitive stares. “Helen. Inez. Good grief. Don’t sneak up on a guy.”

  “Well, that seemed to go well,” Helen said, a satisfied smirk on her face. “I do believe I heard you making a second date. Why don’t you come join us with Priss over here and tell us all about it?”

  “Francine?” Inez yelled over Marcus’s shoulder into the kitchen. “Girl, get out here! He’s about to tell us all the horny details!”

  “Inez, there are no horny details, it was just an egg sandwich,” Marcus said as he walked away from the women. When he reached the kitchen, he was struck hard in the side by the door swinging open as Francine rushed into the diner.

  “Oh, sorry, sweetie. You shouldn’t stand in front of the door. Did I miss anything? I hope not. I love this part. The early dating when everything is still new and exciting, and you wonder if he is going to kiss you and—”

  “It wasn’t a date!” Marcus raised his voice and threw his hands in the air. “It was a thank-you!”

  “A thank-you? For what? For being one hot little piece of mechanic ass?” Inez said and roared with laughter.

  “Inez, language!” Priss yelled from the booth.

  “Darling,” Francine said and grinned, “you can call that whatever you want, but in my day when a man bought you dinner, it was considered a date. And if you made a man dinner at your house, that was most definitely a date.”

  “Were you all eavesdropping on our whole conversation?”

  “It’s a public place.” Inez dragged him over to the corner booth. She plopped onto the bench seat and scooted over beside Priscilla. “We can’t help it if we just happened to overhear a few things.”

  “Well, I can tell you one thing,” Helen said as she sat, “there were sparks flying all over this diner between you two. I can’t believe none of us thought to invite him to the diner that first night.”

  “Hell, I never knew Hank’s gate swung to that side of the pasture.” Francine giggled and leaned toward Marcus with her eyes opened wide. “Thank goodness I never tried to hit on him.”

  “You’re old enough to be his mother, Francine,” Priss mumbled as she shifted uncomfortably in place.

  “All that matters is, our boy here has found something to occupy his fancy.” Helen patted Marcus on the hand. “And maybe something that will convince him to stick around here after all. Don’t you think so, Priss?”

  Priss shook her head in a non-committal manner and picked at the edges of a napkin.

  “Priss, I would like to say ‘thank you’ for staying out of this. Look, y’all, I appreciate what you are trying to do for my grandmother’s wishes but it was just a lunch. You don’t need to be planning a wedding. I keep telling y’all, I plan on getting out of here as soon as I can. And Hank actually just made that a little easier for me. He found me a car. So as soon as the house sells, I will be packing up and moving on, okay?”

  “And going where?” Inez groused.

  “I don’t know. Somewhere bigger with a little more to offer me than this.”

  “Back to Atlanta?” Helen asked.

  “You know, when I was leaving Atlanta, it was rush hour. But everyone was going the opposite way of me. I looked across the median and thought, ‘what do they know that I don’t? What’s back there that they are all in such a hurry to get to? What am I missing out on? None of them are headed this way.’ I swear I almost turned the car around and headed back. But no, I think I’m done with Atlanta. I need somewhere with new things to do. Places to go. Opportunities, you know? I mean no offense, but Marathon isn’t—”

  “Fabulous?” Inez interrupted him. “Isn’t that the word you gay men like to use? You think life here can’t be fabulous? Mister, you’ve barely been here two months. Let me tell you something, buddy boy, you keep thinking you are going to go somewhere and find a life that is fabulous. Well I say, you make fabulous wherever you are.”

  “You don’t know just how fabulous life can be here,” Francine added. “Just wait until you see the Hoedown for Health. You’ll see. It will be the social event of the season.”

  “Which reminds me,” Helen added, “you’re still cooking for us so you can’t leave town until the dance is over at least. Okay?”

  “And I really need you around here a little longer. I can’t seem to find anyone to hire.”

  “I’m not going until the house sells, okay? So, just chill out.” Marcus jumped as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out and glanced at the screen, which notified him he had a text message. “Hopefully, this is Katie Nell about someone finally wanting to look at
the house. So if y’all are done planning my future, will you…” Marcus read the text on his phone.

  Robert: Where the hell are you? This is no longer cute or funny. Come home. NOW!

  Marcus stood staring at the message. His heartbeat began to race and his knees wobbled.

  “Sweetie? You look a little green. You okay?” Francine asked.

  Marcus grabbed the edge of the table and steadied himself. He took a few deep breaths. You’ve got a car now. You can leave. You are fine. Marcus looked at the women and sighed. “It’s nothing. I’m really tired. I need to go home and get some rest.”

  “And plan what you are cooking for that man,” Helen added in a sing-song voice. “I can give you some wonderful casserole recipes if you—”

  “Helen,” Inez interrupted her, “he wants to woo the man in, not do the man in.”

  Marcus forced a smile at the women’s banter. “Miss Helen, I’m good. I’ve got plenty of my own ideas of things to cook. And I’ll call y’all later in the week to discuss the menu for the Hoedown. Could you ask Katie Nell to call me about the house? I don’t know why I haven’t had anyone come look at it yet.” As he walked out of the diner, Marcus started tapping a reply to Robert on his phone. “See you in the morning Francine. I’m going to find Skeet for a ride home.” When the diner’s door had swung shut behind him, Marcus reread the text and then hit send.

  Marcus: Fuck off.

  Chapter Ten

  “Dear lord in heaven,” Hank groaned as he rubbed his belly and leaned back in his chair. He dropped his fork on the table and pushed his mostly empty plate away. He stretched his arms above his head and let his head loll over the back of the chair. “If I eat another bite of this, I swear I’ll just explode all over the place.”

  “That’s a lovely image,” Marcus drawled and scrunched up his face before breaking out in a smile. He dropped his own fork beside his plate and plucked his napkin out of his lap, then dragged it across his lips and discarded it on his empty plate. “Trust me, killing you was not my goal tonight. And we haven’t tried my chocolate chip pound cake yet.”

  Marcus scooted his chair back from the table and stood. He crossed to the kitchen, grabbed the oven handle, and yanked the door open. The sugary, warm smell of the cake baking in the oven wafted out into the kitchen and spread throughout the small house. Marcus took a wooden spoon from the counter and hooked it through the gaps in the oven rack to pull it out. He pulled a toothpick from the small cloisonné vase on the back of the stove. He stuck the toothpick into the cake, pulled it out, and inspected it for any clinging pieces of cake. Satisfied that the cake was done, Marcus used two dishcloths from the counter to protect his hands as he picked up the cake pan. Marcus lifted the pan to his nose and took a deep breath.

  He turned to face Hank and waved the pan around in front of him, swiveling his hips in a poor imitation of some Latin dance he had once seen on television. “But it smells so good,” he taunted Hank in a sing-song voice.

  Hank groaned again and slouched forward onto his elbows on the table. “Fiat, you’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t know where I would put it.” Hank laughed, picked up his fork, and pushed the last bits of mashed potato around his plate. “I swear I haven’t eaten cooking like that since—”

  “If you say since your mama’s cooking, I will toss you right out of here.”

  “Oh, hell no. My mama couldn’t make a peanut butter sandwich. No, I was going to say since I don’t know when. But your mama must’ve been a hell of a cook to teach you to make food that way. Fried chicken, collard greens, and mashed potatoes—”

  “Real mashed potatoes,” Marcus interrupted him and gestured at him with the cake pan, “that weren’t from a box.”

  “Right,” Hank said and nodded his head. “Well, that ain’t exactly Waffle Barn fare, you know. You didn’t learn to make that food in a greasy spoon diner.”

  “No, I learned some of it from my mama; the rest I just taught myself when I was cooking for...” Marcus looked around the kitchen for somewhere to set the hot cake pan. “Will you be a sweetheart and help me for a second.”

  “I don’t know if I can stand up.” Hank rubbed his belly again, before grunting his way out of his chair onto his feet. “All righty, what can I do?”

  “I still don’t know where everything is in this house. Look in some of these drawers and see if you see a pot holder or something for me to put this on.”

  “You mean a trivet?” Hank asked as he opened a drawer on the kitchen island and looked inside. “Nope, just silverware here.”

  “Ooh,” Marcus said and raised his eyebrows. “A trivet. Well, listen to mister fancy pants.”

  “Shut up,” Hank said with a laugh as he pushed the drawer closed and moved on to the next one. He looked inside and said, “Nothing but foil and wax paper and… um… what must be about five hundred garbage bag ties and a bunch of artificial sweetener packs.”

  “Try the one over by the stove,” Marcus pointed with his elbow and juggled the pan gingerly between his hands. “Hurry, this thing is really hot.”

  As Hank slid behind Marcus to move to the other side of the cramped kitchen space, his hands dragged across Marcus’s waist, and he paused at Marcus’s ear to growl, “not the hottest thing in this kitchen.”

  “I’m serious,” Marcus said as he pushed his hips back to nudge Hank away. “It’s really hot.”

  Hank slipped around Marcus and pulled open a drawer by the stove. “Bingo!” he yelled before pulling out a ceramic trivet with cherries painted on it and setting it on the counter.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Marcus said as he set the pan onto the trivet. “I wish I had a wire cooling rack. It’d cool faster so you could eat some sooner.”

  “Fiat, I already told you I’m going to need a little recovery time before I eat anything else.”

  Marcus turned to face Hank and leaned back against the counter, letting the dishrags hang beside his hips. “However will we pass the time?”

  Hank stepped closer to Marcus, placed his arms on either side of him on the counter and stared into Marcus’s eyes. “I might have an idea or two.”

  “Such as?” Marcus held his breath in anticipation as Hank moved closer to his face.

  “Well…” Hank whispered and leaned closer. “We could…” Just as his beard was tickling at Marcus’s cheek, Hank suddenly jerked back, lifted his hand in front of his mouth and tried his best to stifle a loud belch. “Oh, my god,” Hank muttered, his cheeks growing red. “Well, that was real sexy, wasn’t it?” He closed his eyes and splayed his hand over his face.

  Marcus began laughing and pushed himself off the counter with his elbows. “Very.” He stepped forward and swatted at Hank with the dishrag.

  “I told you, I ate too much.” Hank dropped his hands from his face and shot an impish grin at Marcus. “I swear, I may have to take off my belt and unbutton my pants.”

  “Well, my intention with cooking wasn’t to get you out of your pants, but if you insist.” Marcus cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

  “I’m serious.” Hank shook his head and let another small burp escape. “I may not fit in my truck to go home.”

  Marcus stepped closer to Hank and purred into his ear, “Then just stay here.”

  Hank’s grin faded, and he took a few steps back from Marcus. “Um… look. I need to tell you something.”

  “Shit,” Marcus said and slipped farther away from Hank. “I’m sorry. I thought you were… I mean when you said… I was just… You know what? I’m just going to start cleaning up these dishes.” Marcus hurried over to the kitchen table and began gathering the silverware and plates, trying his best to keep his blushing face turned away from Hank.

  “No, Marcus, it’s not that I don’t want to stay here with you.”

  Marcus dropped the silverware back on the table and turned back around. “So I’m Marcus now?”
/>
  “I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “It’s fine.” Marcus turned sharply back to the table, scooped up the silverware, stalked to the sink, and dropped the pieces in with a loud clatter. “I clearly misunderstood. You’ve had a nice meal and now you can go home.”

  Marcus hurried back to the table and grabbed the plates. He crossed to the sink and let the dishes fall. He muttered, “It’s okay if you’re not attracted to me, if you don’t want to sleep with me.”

  Marcus stood staring at the water swirling over the dirty plates and tried to compose himself. Hank wrapped his hands around his hips and slowly turned him around. Marcus kept his head lowered until Hank touched his chin and lifted his face.

  “I do want to sleep with you.” Hank placed his lips against Marcus’s before pulling away and adding, “A lot.” He kissed Marcus again, harder.

  Hank’s beard tickled against Marcus’s cheeks, and Marcus relaxed against the sink, feeling the warmth of Hank’s body close to his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as Hank’s lips touched his lightly in several small nips of kisses. He placed his hands on Hank’s shoulders and pushed him away slightly. “You do?”

  “God, yes,” Hank answered, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. He kissed Marcus again before adding, “Just… not tonight.”

  Marcus shifted his upper body, leaving his hands resting on Hank’s chest, and stared. “What?”

  “Fiat, we hardly know each other.” Hank shrugged and took a step away from Marcus, causing Marcus’s arms to drop to his sides. “I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I just prefer to get to know someone before we… you know. That’s what I was trying to tell you. That’s why I have my rule.”

  “Your rule?”

  “Three dates.” Hank held up three fingers and nodded toward his hand. “I never sleep with someone until the third date.”

  Marcus glanced back and forth between Hank’s raised fingers and his face, trying to determine if the other man was joking. “Okay. But why three?”