Ten of Diamonds

3- She Wants A Real Tip, Idiot-

"Hey, I'm just calling to check, uh, do you guys serve something called a 'Sunday Surprise'?" I whisper.

Some pissed teenager on the other side snorts. "No, and we're not even open right now."

Dammit. "Are you sure?"

"Are you twelve? Look kid, I said we're closed. What else do you want?"

"Joshie?" I hear my dad's voice at the doorframe of my room. "Who're talking to this late?"

The last thing I need is for my dad to catch me calling Wendy's at ten o'clock at night.

"For the record, I am nearly sixteen!" I hiss into the phone, then hang up.

"...Joshie?"

"Hey dad!" I say, rolling over in my bed and plastering a smile on my face.

Dad looks at me suspiciously, then sits gingerly on the edge of my bed. "Everything okay? You seem a little...stressed."

I sigh. After all this time, I've never been able to figure out if my dad had wicked intuition or I was really bad at lying. Probably the latter. "I'm just looking for something."

"Did you lose homework again?" he says with a small smile.

I scowl. "No. I didn't lose anything, really. I need to find something."

"What is it? Let me help you out."

I hesitate. My dad's always helped me with everything, even when he didn't want to. This was my twentieth restaurant call and I was beginning to feel a little helpless. Mackenzie, in all her charm, refused to give me her phone number. I have no idea what's she's up to, but I'm already over my head.

"Well...this girl and I are going on a date. She wants to get this dish called a 'Sunday Surprise' but she didn't tell me what restuarant and..." The lie rolls off my tongue, leaving me both guilty and disgusted. Guilty because my dad is eating this up-he looks like he's already hearing wedding bells- and disgusted because never in a million years would I willingly touch Mackenzie Pallas, much less date her. I shudder.

"Who's the lucky girl?" my dad asks, making himself comfortable on my bed.

No point in lying more. "Mackenzie."

"Your lab partner? Didn't you say she was a mean know-it-all?" (That was the PG version of what I said. What I'd really called her made mom slap me with a wooden spoon.)

"Yeah, but she, you know , she changed. She's really... a nice girl." I nearly vomit.

"When will she-"

"Can we move on?" I ask, though what I really want to say is, "How desperate do you think I am?"

"Sure thing, Joshie. What do you want me to do?"

"Okay, so do you know any restaurants serve something called a 'Sunday Surprise'?

Dad furrows thick brows in concentration. "Hmmm...."

I pick up my phone and Google 'all restaurants in Goldpeak, Florida'.

"Hmm..."

There's an ice cream shop called 'Heaven on Earth' that seems like it would have a Sunday Surprise. Or maybe it doesn't. I'm tired.

"Hello? I'm just wondering if you guys serve something called a 'Sunday Surprise'"?

"Hmm..."

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't. We do have-"

I hang up and pick dial another number , barely looking at the restauraunt's name.

"Hello? I'm just wondering if you serve something called a-"