Chapter Five - Spies like... NotCara
Under, over, around? Twice around? Or is it over under? I peered into the streaky mirror, grimacing with the effort. Really, I don’t know how men do this every day.

“Here.” Yvonne ripped the tie out of my hands, muttering, “I can’t watch this anymore. Over, around, up and through.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, watching her nimble fingers tie it around her own neck, never once glancing in the mirror. “You could totally be a guy.” Lightening flashed through her black eyes as I realized how badly that had come out. “No, no, I just meant you tie a tie so well…” My voice trailed off into mute embarrassment. Will I never learn?

Her glare softened as she took in my obvious discomfort. “You know,” she commented as she placed it around my neck, “this is the definitive evidence that men do not rule the world.”

“Huh?” I asked as she choked it up a little too snugly around my collar.

“For real. If men truly ruled the world, they wouldn’t be tying little nooses around their necks every day.” Stepping back to survey her handiwork, she gave me a critical once over. A tug to straighten my apron and a quick polish of my misnamed nametag and she was satisfied.

“Appearances are everything in this game,” she started and I could tell from her tone she was about to give me advice. Briefly I toyed with the idea of getting out my pen and pad – Yvonne routinely tipped out the highest numbers every night. “They say we’re members of the service industry but all you have to do to take care of that end is get the order right and be quick about it. And you got that down quickly.” I smiled gratefully. So far the few shifts I’ve worked, I’ve just felt like I was drowning. I take a deep breath, go under and resurface several hours later for my break, always surprised that people got fed, tips got left, and I’m still alive. “Really the tips come from appearances.” She turned to the mirror and pulled her luxurious black hair behind her shoulders and began to put it in an elaborate four-strand braid. “The customers are paying for a good show. They want someone good-looking, sure, but even more than that they want you to like them. That’s the key. Remember their names, be interested in their lives, even if you only ever see them once, and I guarantee you they’ll tip way over fifteen percent. But don’t be phony about it, you have to be pitch perfect.”

“You should write a book,” I said seriously. “But all I ever get are the teenagers.” I made a face. Queen Mary has kept me on the worst zone as I’m still the lowest one on the totem pole.

“So flirt a little, girl!” I blushed as she continued, “Use what God gave ya, that’s what I always say.” She put on a dark coat of lipstick and smiled into the mirror, “Besides, that lot always has mommy’s money and plenty of it. They’ll spread it around, you’ll see.”

I was about to point out to her that God had not given me in that department what he had given her when there was a staccato rap on the door and I heard someone enter. “Vonnie!” A gorgeous guy in a Kafé Neo uniform, sans apron, strode across the floor picking Yvonne up and swinging her around.

“Hey baby,” she smiled coyly and dropped her lipstick in her apron pocket.

He gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, “You gonna come up and say hi tonight, you lovely thing?”

Throat dry and mouth open, I knew I was invisible again but this time it was fine with me. I had no idea what I’d say to him even if I could speak. You probably think I’m boy crazy what with Tex, Nick and now this guy but seriously, guys like this just don’t exist in my high school. So maybe you can forgive my racing heart and sweaty palms?

“This is the girl’s locker room, you know,” Yvonne replied, the edge back in her voice, but she was still smiling.

“I know. I can read,” he answered, purposely disheveling his hair with his fingers in the mirror. I was admiring his strong jaw with just the teeniest amount of stubble when his cobalt blue eyes accidentally met mine in the glass.

For a breathless moment I thought perhaps he could see me, that my cloak of invisibility had slipped off, but then Yvonne spoke, “Hello, we could have been dressing in here!”

Stepping back from the mirror, he eyed her appreciatively and then sighed. “Alas, you were not.” One last glance at himself in the mirror and then he left, tossing over his shoulder, “Maybe next time!”

By the time the door had clicked shut, Yvonne’s expression had returned to sullenly normal and she was hanging her street clothes in her locker. “Wow, is that your boyfriend?” I gasped.

“What?” She looked genuinely confused for a moment. “Why would think that?”

“Oh, uh, just the way he was…you know.” Of course someone like Yvonne would have a boyfriend like that.

“Ah!” she laughed as she walked to the door, “That’s just Lucien. He tends the bar upstairs. Don’t pay any attention to him, he’s like that with all the girls.”

So what does that make me?

………

“Head’s up!” Ryan-the-salad-boy greeted me with a flying fish head. It bounced off my stomach and fell in my apron pocket. “Yah! Ten points! Wahoo!” He did a happy dance as I fished it out and dropped it in the garbage can.

“Caesar’s on the menu again, I take it?”

“As always.” He handed me a fish head and despite my careful aim, it fell wide of the garbage can, jerking and slithering along the floor until it came to rest near Jon’s clog.

Without even looking up from his slicing, he kicked it under the table and called out, “Fifty plated salads, Ryan. Now.”

Shrugging his shoulder, Ryan gave me a wink, “They’ll be plated and up for you to preset in about ten minutes.”

“For me?” This was something new. “Why? What’s going on?”

He grinned, “I take my orders straight from the Queen. Better talk to her.”

The noise from the kitchen squelched by the door swinging shut, I surveyed the quiet floor. Candles were already lit in hurricane glasses on each table, their gentle light refracting off all the polished surfaces, giving the room an almost underwater quality. Quiet Greek music was ululating over the speakers, complimented by the soft clink of silverware being set. And then Queen Mary came sailing down the floor, her large hips expertly weaving in and out of the tables as she made her way back to me.

“Darling,” she trilled, shattering the quiet with a boisterous laugh, “there you are! I’m so glad you’re on time.” Patting my cheek with a plump hand tipped with long, deep red acrylic nails she added on as an afterthought, “But then you always are, aren’t you dear?” Grasping my arm and pulling me into her wake, she dragged me through a set of wooden doors to a large room. “We’ve got a big party coming in tonight – about 50 – and since it’s a Wednesday night and will most likely be slow, I’m pulling you off the floor to work this. You and George will be the only waitstaff as we’re short-staffed (a chronic problem here I’m discovering); he’ll show you what to do. Alright?” Brushing her burgundy hair out of her eyes, she stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“Alright,” I acquiesced, noticing her eyes were an unearthly shade of green tonight.

Just then George walked in carrying a large rack of goblets. “Aw! Are you freakin’ serious?” He dropped the rack on a table with a loud clatter, turning to Queen Mary. “You gotta be freakin’ kidding me. A VIP party of 50 and you stick me with Crazy Cara?” Sheesh – one wrong move through the swinging doors and I’m crazy? “I’ll freakin’ quit! I swear I will!”

“Now, Georgie,” she said putting her ample arm around him and drawing him in close. “You know I love you right?” He mumbled something and nodded. “Would I intentionally hurt you?” Again the mumbling and this time he shook his head. She put a hand under his chin and focused his eyes in my direction. “Look carefully now. Is this CaraCara?”

He squinted myopically at me and I tried to look not crazy. Whatever that might mean to him. “No…”

“Riiiiight. This is not CaraCara. Queenie made the scary girl go away, remember?” she said as if she were soothing a child. I was tempted to roll my eyes but it seemed to be working with George. “It’s not CaraCara. It’s just her old nametag, that’s all.” George took a deep shuddering breath and then relaxed his shoulders.

“Yeah, about this nametag,” I started.

“Not now, sweetie,” she waved at me as she turned to go. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with it for awhile. Ryan broke the machine when he was making a license plate for his mountain bike.” With that, she threw open the doors and exited to the main floor.

George was still eyeing me suspiciously so I took a couple steps towards him, holding out my hand. “Hi, I’m - ”

“Not Cara,” he interrupted emphatically.

Maybe I should’ve gone with devilmademedoit after all. “Right. Not Cara,” I repeated and sighed. I hope this kid isn’t as slow waiting tables as he is with this.

“Ok then, NotCara, will you go get the cart with the salads and bring them in here?”

Thankfully, it turns out that while he may have some peculiar personality quirks, George is a machine when it comes to waiting tables. You know those people that just seem made for their job? George was born to be a waiter and he was good at it. Quick, efficient, and willing to explain things in detail, he helped the party to go by quickly. Hours later, after the guests had finally trickled out, George and I sat down for our late dinner break. Clearing off a table, we sat down with two extra plates of food and a pitcher of ice water.

I was just getting ready to dig into an inviting spanakopita when George interrupted, urgency cracking his voice, “NotCara, how’s my hair?” His hand flew up to his head as if he thought it might have somehow disappeared over the course of the evening.

Eyeing his perfectly sculpted sandy blond ‘do, I shrugged and nodded. “Looks just like it did three hours ago.” It’s true too; it’s so stiff with product that it could have been a museum piece. I thought again of my plastic Hans Solo figurine. You know, that would probably be worth a lot of money today if my little brother hadn’t chewed the feet off of it. I’m not even sure where it is anymore – probably D.I.’ed years ago.

“Really?”

He seemed so relieved that I smiled and added, “Sure, it looks really nice.”

Popping a bit of cheese into his mouth he announced proudly, “I’m a hair model. For Matrixx.”

“Wow, that’s really cool. I didn’t even know they had hair models.” I took a bite of cheesy spinach, savoring it despite its lukewarm temperature. Did I mention the major perk of this job? Free food! And not just any free food but quality free food. Mmmm. “Although I can see now that they would.”

“Yeah, I just do local shows mostly, you know, when I’m not here of course. My manager says I’m gonna break into the national circuit any day now though.” He smiled happily. We ate our dinner in silence for several minutes until he spoke up again. “You know, NotCara, you’re really freakin’ nice.” Is that a compliment? “CaraCara would never have been so nice.”

I took the bait, “So what’s the deal with this Cara chick and why does everyone say her name twice?”

George brought a large piece of baklava over to the table, automatically handing me another fork. I took a honey-filled bite as he started. “Basically, she’s totally freakin’ evil. I mean, she could just walk into a room and freeze you with a stare. Plus she had this lazy eye and it was really creepy. Sometimes, she’d just roll it around in her head to freak out the little kids.” He shivered and it was obvious it wasn’t just the little kids she scared. “As if that weren’t bad enough, everything she said, she’d say twice and really fast.” Widening his eyes for effect, he spat out (along with some leftover nuts still in his mouth), “I’m CaraCara and I’ll be your serverserver. These are the specialspecials.” Courteously, he scooped up the last bite of the dessert on his fork and then handed it to me. I took it, not wanting to be rude, and hoped he wasn’t sick. “And it wasn’t like she stuttered or something, that would have been forgivable. It was like she was crazy with power and anything she said had to be double because it was twice as cool as everyone else’s, like a hex or something, you know?” I didn’t know and I was beginning to feel a little sorry for the girl with a lazy eye who helplessly repeated herself. “Things weren’t just special with her, they were specialspecial. Or awfulawful.” He shuddered again. “Plus, she singled me out particularly. She drove me freakin’ crazy and she knew it! Finally, Queen Mary let her go. That day was freakin’freakin’ great.” Gasping, he covered his mouth with his hands. “Now, I’m doing it!! See? It’s like she cast a freakin’ spell on me or something!” Rising from his chair so quickly it fell over, his face a mask of horror, I was afraid he might run blindly into the street or faint.

Thankfully, the crisis was averted by the entrance of Queen Mary. “Ready, my darlings?”

Assuming she was talking about cleaning up, I brushed the crumbs off my apron and stood up, prepared to start gathering plates, but was stopped by a loud, familiar trill of music. I turned and saw the other waitstaff coming in the doors. Yvonne gave me a knowing wink with one heavily lined eye.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified!

I whipped around to see Queen Mary standing on top of the center table, back to us, her arms fanned out dramatically over her head. Long black, crocheted sleeves hung down past her multi-belted waist and one leg was bent, causing the opposite hip to jut out.

Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side!

At first I thought it was Gloria Gaynor singing but then the blinking lights of the karaoke machine in the corner caught my eye and I realized it was the Queen singing at the top of her lungs.

But then I spent so many nights, just thinking how you did me wrong…

She slowly brought her arms down as she sang, rocketing her other hip out.

And I grew strong! I learned how to get along!

Then she snapped her arms up and around her shoulders, her hands making a loud smacking noise where they hit her flesh. There was a brief pause in the music and she took a deep breath in, spinning around to face us as she sang the next line.

And so you’re back, from outer space
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face!

She shook her finger at the congregated staff, bumping her leg in rhythm to the song as the table wobbled ominously beneath her.

I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I’d’ve known for just one second you’d be back to bother me!

As if it couldn’t get any stranger, everyone started singing along on the next line! For real! It was like being a character in a musical when everyone randomly breaks into song except that you didn’t know you’re even in a movie!

So now go! Walk out the door!
Just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore!
Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with good-bye?
Did you think I’d crumble?
Did you think I’d lay down and die?

I checked the corners of the room for hidden cameras as the entire staff sang along with Mary, all of them throwing their arms up and shaking their heads in unison.

Oh, no, not I! I will survive!
As long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive.

I felt George’s hands on my shoulders and saw that everyone was forming an impromptu conga line. Well, what do you do in a situation like that? I’ll tell you – you sing your heart out, baby! I put my hands on the shoulders of a girl I barely knew and danced to the beat.

I’ve got all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give and I’ll survive.
I WILL SURVIVE. Hey, hey!

………

“I said ALL black!” Jill hissed, already appropriately garbed in black yoga pants and a black tank top with the University logo in shiny silver on her chest.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Just give me a sec. I’m already half there.” I had just come home from work and was still in my uniform, the fifty dollars I’d made in tips (thank you, Yvonne!) still sitting satisfactorily heavy in my pocket. I’d forgotten tonight was Phase II night but it was just as well, I only own one pair of black bottoms anyhow. Plus this meant I had missed all the planning insanity. Of the three sitting in the dark on the couch only Trinity looked remotely amused.

“I don’t see why the rest of us have to wear black,” Brooklyn grumbled, crossing her arms and still looking unfairly beautiful. “Only Jac’s climbing up there.”

“Keep your voice down!” Jill whispered hoarsely. “What if they suspect something and look down here?”

“I dunno,” Trinity giggled, not whispering, “they might think we live here. Like we actually do.”

Jill looked ready to crush her and then took a step back. “Actually, Trin, you might be right.” She tapped her shiny lips thoughtfully, “If they hear nothing, then they might suspect something!”

“Oh, brother,” Brooklyn sighed loudly as I walked into our room to change.

I had just pulled on a black sweatshirt, the front emblazoned with a pink and yellow-checkered cat with a wicked gleam in its eye, courtesy of Trinity, when I heard Jill call out to me, “Turn on your radio. Not too loud or anything, just like you’re studying. You know.” I never study with music but whatever. I clicked it on. I’m a good sport.

Taking a seat on the couch with Trinity, Brooklyn, and Jac, I prepared for the grand revealing of Jill’s plan. She did a little hop and clapped her hands excitedly. “Very cheerleader-esque! 9.2!” Trinity called out, earning another death look from Jill.

“No noise has been monitored in C301 for over an hour,” she started in her best sitcom-cop voice. “So we move in on my mark.” I glanced at the clock. It’s five to one. Does no one ever sleep around here?

“What’s this ‘we’ business,” Jac growled, speaking for the first time. “I thought it was just me.”

“You have to have backup,” Jill said, the duh obviously implied.

“Aw, Chickie! You’re gonna be a hero!” Trinity made a show of pretend fainting and fell across my lap.

I pushed her off. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Jill said pragmatically. “You’re the smallest one of us and therefore the easiest for Jac to throw over the balcony.”

“What?” I squeaked. “We’re on the second floor here! No one’s throwing me over a balcony!”

“Besides, you’re the only one who knows for sure where the remote is hidden.” The way she said it, her face flushed down to the tip of her tiny straight nose, made it sound as if it were the remote to a rogue nuclear bomb and this was our last hope of stealing it back from the terrorists.

Five minutes of useless arguing later I’m standing outside on our five-inch deck shivering in the cool night air and watching Jac climb up on the railing. “Give me your hand.”

“No.” It’s a long way down to the parking lot. “You’re crazy.”

“No, she’s crazy,” Jac said pointing at Jill’s face pressed anxiously up against the glass. “I should know - I’m the one that had to grow up with her, remember?” She sighed a sigh that suggested she’d been in a thousand similarly crazy situations thanks to Jill. “Let’s just do this. No one will get any sleep until we do.”

“You’re both crazy.” But I gave her my hand. Now we’re both standing on the balcony, the wind whipping madly around us. Fortunately for us there is a brick cornice that juts out about a foot from the wall of the building between each apartment. I think they’re supposed to be for privacy but tonight we’re going to use them for climbing.

“You go first. Step on my knee and I’ll help push you up until you can grab the side of their deck. Then all you have to do is a pull up and you’re on.”

“I can’t do a pull up.” My teeth were chattering and I tried not to look down. Did I say earlier I’m a good sport? I think I’m just a good idiot.

“Then I’ll push you. Just go.” She gave me a little boost and I dug my foot into the brick, gripping the slats of their deck with all my feeble might. News at eleven: Girl Dies in Tragic Balcony Accident Wearing Ugly Sweater. A grunt from Jac and I felt her pushing up on my feet. Turns out she’s freakishly strong and I tumbled over C301’s railing with almost no effort on my part. I backed up to make room for Jac who jumped up, grabbed the deck and pulled her long lean body up and over with all the grace of a practiced acrobat. She wasn’t even out of breath as we stood side by side on the Lilliputian deck (note to contractors: build a balcony a real person can stand on or don’t build one at all!) peering through the sliding glass door into the living room that looked exactly like ours but much, much messier.

“What if it’s locked?” Good of me to think of that once we’re already up, right?

“Nah,” Jac whispered, the muscles in her arms etched like marble in the moonlight. “They live on the third floor – why would they?” I reached out, my fingers surreally white on the handle, and pushed. It slid silently on its track. We let out a collective exhale. “Okay. Get the remote. Get out. Leave no trace. Got it?”

“Can we go back down the stairs?”

Jac grinned at me and nodded. It wasn’t until we were both inside, the door shut behind us and the glaring full moon no longer blinding us with the reflection off the door when we saw him. Well, heard him rather. Kyle was snoring on the couch. I almost screamed but Jac laid a cool hand on my arm, shaking her head emphatically. Motioning me to follow her, she waited until his next noisy exhale and then took a step. It was slow but effective. After several nerve-wracking minutes of inhale – wait! – exhale – run! we were to the coat closet. Pressing herself up against the wall in the entryway where Kyle wouldn’t see her if he woke, she pointed at me then the closet. Swallowing, I turned the handle slowly, the click barely audible as it opened. This would be the worst part. I would have to paw through the dark closet with my back to Kyle and the bedroom doors. One wrong move and…

I was wrong; the smell is the worst part. It’s like falling headfirst into the dirty towel bin at the Y.M.C.A. after the countywide racquetball tournament. (And don’t even ask me how I know that, I’m kinda in the middle of something here!) Breathing through my mouth, I felt in the direction where I’d kicked the remote two days earlier, desperately hoping it was still there. I stifled a groan as my hand went into somebody’s gym bag and made contact with some slimy foreign matter. You ever been to a really lame haunted house? You know, the kind where they have a curtain and you put your hand through it into some bowls of random gunk and then they tell you it’s eyeballs when it’s really peeled grapes or brains when it’s actually spaghetti noodles? Yeah, imagine that but darker. And grosser. Finally, after what seemed like eons of going through piles of damp laundry, my fingers finally closed around something hard, oblong and plastic. I brought it out into the filtered light – and – the holy grail of remotes! I couldn’t help but jump up and down with excitement.

Jac’s face morphed from elation to true horror as my elbow came down on the doorknob, causing the door to shut with a loud click and me to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I’d hit right on my funny bone and the electric shocks zinging up my arm temporarily disabled me. “Ow, ow, ow, ow,” I whispered, biting my lip. Kyle heaved a huge sigh and rolled over as Jac pulled me towards her, clamping her hand over my mouth. We both sat wide-eyed in the silence as we waited for him to continue breathing. After a long, literally breathless pause, he did. In fact, I think he might have sleep apnea. Perhaps I should mention that to him next FHE?

“Whew,” Jac let out a long slow breath that I barely heard over the noise of my heart pounding in my ears. Shaking with the effort of holding still for so long, we both slowly stood, the door just inches from our fingertips. Footsteps. I glanced at the glass door and saw the reflection of Tex standing in his doorway in his boxer shorts with one hand on his hat (does he sleep in that thing or just keep it next to his bed in case of emergencies?). Jac grabbed my hand and I realized that if we could see Tex in the reflection then that meant…but he didn’t turn that direction. After all, the sound had come from the opposite end of the room, by us. After an excruciating moment where I could practically hear my eyeballs vibrating with adrenaline, he turned and went back in his room, releasing us with the soft thud of his door closing.

Jac and I were quickly out of the door, careful to lock it and shut it quietly, and then dashed down the stairs. It took several minutes of quiet but increasingly frantic knocking to get someone to open the front door. As soon as Brooklyn let us in, relief obvious on her face, I saw why: Trinity and Jill stood on our tiny deck, faces tipped to the sky, vainly waiting for our return.

“We should just go to bed and let them stand out there all night,” Jac grumbled but I could hear the good humor in her voice. After all, the mission was a success! Instead I walked over to the glass door and tapped on it, laughing as they both jumped out of their skins.

“Good thing you’re back!” Jill gasped, holding a wooden spoon. “We were just about to mount a rescue operation!”

“Yeah, we heard footsteps!” Trinity waved a wire whisk as I wondered what a rescue operation would have entailed. Kung Fu with dull kitchen implements? No thank you.

I held up the remote, the plastic gleaming dully in the darkness. “Oh!” Jill squealed and jumped up and down, “It’s so beautiful!” Trinity started to jump too, then me, then Jac and Brooklyn. Moving quickly in a circle, we jumped with joy until dizziness overtook us and we fell on the floor, laughing.

“Wait, wait, guys,” Brooklyn said, rising unsteadily. “I have just the thing.” She rummaged through her cabinet in the kitchen and emerged with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. “I was saving this for something special and I think this is it!”

Trinity poured it into mismatched ceramic mugs, holding the towel-wrapped bottle over her arm like we do in the restaurant. “Here’s to revenge!” She held her cup up in the air.

“No, no,” Jac laughed, “To Chucky! May he rot forever and not on our doorstep!”

We clinked our mugs together, “Hear, hear!”

………

Ok, girl, so I haven’t heard back from you yet. I’m thinking you’re just busy and not trying to dis me, right? Anyhow, Chris LOVED the sweater. His exact words were, “Rockin’ sweater, Maura.” Agghhh! HE KNOWS MY NAME! So, gotta go, gonna have me some good dreams tonight!
Luvs,
Maura
- posted by Charlotte @ 2:55 PM