David pulls into the parking lot of some sort of pancake house on Song Drive and looks at me with a wide smile. It's 1 in the morning, and the both of us are ready for another great laugh.
"What do you have planned now, David?" I ask. I already feel like laughing my head off!
"You'll see, Mike."
We walk inside the small diner and I start feeling nervous. I've never really been out in the public like this. David walks in front of me and smiles.
"Relax Michael, there's only a couple sitting at the back of the diner." I nod. That eases my nerves a bit. We get to our table and sit down. Immediately an elderly white woman walks over to us. I brace myself for the recognition and commotion. "What would you like to order?" She asks instead.
Surprised, I look at David and he winks at me. I crack a smile. In a fake Saudi accent, he says, "Yamaka fallesh!" I start laughing and slapping the table when all of the sudden the lady backhands me across the face. I slide into the booth a little bit more, completely shocked.
"This is not funny," She says, glaring at me. "Your friend is from a foreign country and you have respect for people from foreign countries!"
I slide even more into the booth so she can't slap me again. Is this how normal people are treated in public? Holding in his laughter, David asks, "What is pancake? Explain please." The waitress mimes a pressing motion. "It's like a cake," She explains," that you press down."
I tried to hold in my laughter but it breaks out uncontrollably. The waitress raises her hand again and I slid even farther into the booth. "Ok, I'm going to take you back into the kitchen." David and I got up and followed the lady back into the kitchen where her and the cook shows us how to make pancakes. We walk back and the waitress with the pancakes soon follow. I look at David and whisper, "Your prank is hurting my face!" He grins at me and takes the syrup bottle and empties it onto the pancakes. The waitress immediately slaps David across the face. I breathe in deeply, trying not to laugh. The waitress glares at him "Not funny-"
The bell on the door goes off and a girl with curly, dirty blonde hair tied up into a ponytail, wearing a baggy tank top and cargo pants with sneakers walks right over to our table, frowning.
"Ruth, what in hell are you doing?" The waitress cocks her hip to one side and replies back with attitude. "Minding my own business. Which is what you should be doing, young lady! Something called respect that these days' a generation are forgettin'!"
The girl shoves the waitress away from the table and folds her arms across her chest. "Well now I don't remember slapping customers as a part of being respectful! You go back to cleaning the kitchen and I'll take over this table." Ruth's eyes become slits as she walks away angrily. The girl shakes her head and turns over to our table.
Woah. Her eyes beautifully almond shaped and a deep emerald color! I try not to look into her eyes. I feel myself shying away from her.
"I'm sorry guys, Ruth is a pretty old school lady. I'll get you a new batch of pancakes."
She walks away and I look up at David who is still rubbing his red cheek. "Guess that prank kinda backfired on us, huh Dave?" I say grinning. "Yeah well not really. I saw you staring at her." I run my hand through my Afro. I need a haircut.
"Who?"
"Come on Mike! You looked right at her and then looked away blushing!"
"I wasn't blushing."
He scoffs. "Sure you weren't. I wonder why she didn't recognize you."
The girl comes back with the pancakes and more syrup. She has a dish towel slung over her shoulder now. "So, your friend is Arab, huh?" I look at David and smile. "Uh, yeah sure!"
She places her hands on the table and lowers her neck so she is at eye level with David.
"Kaifa haluk?" Dang, she knows Arabic! David's eyes grow huge. "Khair?" David doesn't reply.
The girl smirks and stands back up. "I know an Arab when I see one."
"Y-you know arabic?" David sputters. I can see why he's surprised too, she doesn't look Arab to me.
The girl laughs a little, "Just because I'm a street girl don't mean I'm not educated."
Shocked, I hesitantly ask for the check. She walks away again and I kick David from under the table. "She knew Arabic!" "I noticed!" David rubs his forehead smiling.
"She's a sharp one though, I like her." I feel my heart drop a little. I kinda like her...I think.
"Oh yeah? Why don't you ask her out?"
"No, I think you should ask her. Maybe it'll help you get over Diana Ross."
I kick him again.
The girl comes back with the check and goes over to the other tables to clean them off. I pull out my wallet and pay the bill, leaving two $100 dollar bills for the tip. I feel like I'm not giving her enough, she did save us from that abusive waitress. We get up and walk back to the car, laughing at how bad the prank backfired on us. "I am NEVER going back to this place!" David laughs.
"Hold up!"
We look back at the diner and the girl is walking over to us. I notice her feet are walking right in front of each other elegantly as she takes long strides. Where did a street girl learn how to walk like that from? She reaches us and rests her hand on her hip, holding the $200 with the other hand.
"I can't take this. It's too much" She holds out the money. Too much?
"No, no, please take it!" I insist.
She shakes her head, "I don't even work here, I volunteer! I can't take it."
"No, it's yours. Please."
I've never seen anyone decline my tips before. I look at David and he shrugs.
The girl looks at me for a minute. I shyly look away from her. I feel like her eyes are looking right into me. I'm not sure if I like it yet. They're too beautiful.
"This money is mine?"
I nod.
"I can do whatever I want with it?"
I nod again. "Yes!"
She bites her lip and looks over her shoulder. "Hey, you! Sir!" An old, African homeless man looks up at her, tired. She tosses the bills at the man and says, "Go wild."
I look at her, wide-eyed as she turns around smirking.
"I don't need that kind of burden on my hands."
She backs away, amused by both mine and David's expressions.
"Is that my babygirl, D?!" A deep voice hollered from the darkness. We look to the left and see a small gang walking our way. I hope they don't recognize me! The girl's eyes light up and she runs to the man exclaiming,
"Shak! Brotha I missed you!"
The gang merely look over to me, and the man named Shak clearly doesn't care I'm standing here. Do they not know who I am? This is just all new and strange to me.
David opens the car door and asks, "You wanna get your money back?" I shake my head and look at the homeless man. He's crying and smiling at the same time while looking at the sky. I smile. "No, let's go, Quincy needs us back at the studio."
*~~~~~To be continued~~~~~*
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