Chapter 34 - Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been a Prostitute?

"Have you ever been a waitress before?"

"No."

"Have you ever been a maid?"

"No."

"Have you ever been a homemaker?"

"Do I look old enough to have a husband and kids?"

Happy shrugged as though the question were perfectly reasonable and continued the interview.  "So, why should I hire you over all of the other girls that have wandered in here?"  

Vera glanced at the woman who introduced herself as Flo earlier and thought that if Flo was a "girl," the best she could hope for was the status of newborn babe if not simply a fetus.  She kept her tone steady and unperturbed.  "I can play an instrument."

"Is that code for something?  I'm not into prostitution here." 

"Where are you into prostitution?"

After a brief look of confusion and then shock, the man attempted a smile, but with jowls that permanently pulled his face down, the best he could muster was a friendly sneer.  The name Happy was obviously an ironic moniker.  

"Are you a prostitute?" he blurted out, casting aside all aspersions of subtlety. This last line wasn't fashioned as a proposition but as a matter-of-fact statement to emphasize that the Happy Hour diner wasn't a place that condoned prostitution as a side business.

"No.  I play the trumpet."  Catching herself to put aside any mistaken double entendres, she added, "the actual trumpet."

"And why would that make you a good waitress?"

"At the very least, I could entertain the clientele."

Happy's jowls sagged a bit more in reluctance. "Are you sure..."

"Yup.  Still sure I'm not a prostitute.  You don't interact with many women do you?" She caught sight of Flo wandering distractedly in the distance.

"I'm still not certain that I should take a chance on someone with no experience."

"Well, combining the time I spent waiting for you to sit for this interview and the time that we've actually been conducting this interview, I've seen one customer enter in the past 30 minutes.  And he's obviously a regular."

"How do you know he's a regular?" Happy scowled skeptically.

"He's been sitting at the counter for 10 minutes, reading the paper, with no expectation of being served anytime soon."

"Well, it's past lunch rush," Happy blustered indignantly.

"It's 1 PM now.  Does everyone in this diner eat on East Coast time or am I missing what the concept of the word 'rush' means in this context?"

Happy, insulted by Vera's perception that his business plan hadn't yet met his expectations, continued.  "Do you have any other skills?"

"I'm good at math."

"Why would I need a waitress who's good at math?"

"So she doesn't short change you or the customers, for starters."

Happy's jowls sagged slightly less. "What else can you do?"

"I'm good at managing my time."

"Why does that matter?"

Vera sighed.  "It means I'm reliable when showing up for a shift.  It means that I can be flexible in scheduling when called upon.  It means that I'm taking this opportunity to better myself by attending college while also working what I expect will be a full-time job."

"Oh," Happy responded in a tone that some straddled the line between cheerful and morose.  "What will you be studying?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"I'm not sure I want a girl who isn't decisive."

"I'm going into engineering," she fired back.

Happy raised an eyebrow at this remark.

"What?  Now I'm sure I'm being too impulsive in deciding so quickly, right?"

Happy's jowls sagged again.

"Look.  There's really not a lot that you have to lose in giving me an opportunity.  You're not quite at the pinnacle of your fiduciary prowess yet, so it's not like I'm going to lose you any business if I'm initially slow on the uptake."  She glanced at Flo, who'd discovered lint somewhere in her hair and was now inspecting it thoroughly. "And I don't think the barrier to becoming a waitress here is particularly high."

Happy raised a finger, ready to issue an objection, but Vera cut him off.  "I'm happy assisting with management duties as well.  I can help you schedule the staff."  She looked toward Flo again who had the particular treasure from her coiffure pinned against the counter being slowly pulled apart.  "Hell, I can even help with the books and cook if needed."

"It's unbecoming of a lady to use that type of language."

"I'm not a lady.  I'm a prostitute."

"A-ha!" Happy's face lit up in the act of discovery as he prepared to launch into a speech he'd apparently been preparing the entire interview about the dangers of loose morales.

Vera sunk her face into her hands before meeting his gaze again evenly.  "I'm kidding."  The look of disappointment on Happy's face almost made her regret that she didn't let him give his speech before letting him off the hook.

"So, extra-curricular nightlife excursions aside, do I get the job?"

Happy munched on his lower lip, eyes cast downward. 

Vera glanced around at the diner.  Flo sat on a stool at the counter, staring at the wall.  The lone customer had fallen asleep amid his crumpled newspaper.  Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a lone crow caw.  "Well?"

"Ok," his tone had the timbre of a defeated parent giving into their child's whim for the latest toy spotted in a department store.  "But you need to be able to pull your weight."

Vera looked over at Flo, who had now also fallen asleep.  "Great!  I can help with recipes."

"Yeah?" his eyes shot suddenly upward.  "Do you know a good meatloaf recipe?  Mine has too much flour in it."

"I'm sure we can change it up a bit.  Maybe replace it with something exotic.  Like breadcrumbs.  Speaking of exotic, maybe we can add the occasional Continental dish for spice, like ratatouille or tuna niçoise.  We're in a big city.  People tend to be more cosmopolitan."  The customer at the counter let out a bellowing snore.

"Are you French?"

"No, I'm not French.  I grew up on a farm with access to a library nearby.  They had a few recipe books for French foods and I had access to produce, so I gave it a whirl."

"Do you have a recipe for spaghetti and meatballs?"

Vera put a finger to her lips in mock pensiveness.  "I'm sure I can dream something up."

"Good.  I don't want to start with anything too exotic.  And we have a pretty large Italian population in the city now, so I want them to feel at home."

Vera didn't have the heart to tell him that spaghetti and meatballs was invented in America.  Though, she suspected many of the "Italians" Happy was referring to were likely born here, so they wouldn't quibble too much at the distinction, as long as the food was decent.

Instead, she added, "Ok.  Also, I've got a great recipe for the best egg sandwich you've ever tasted."

[Author's Note:  If I do wind up short of my 50K word goal, I think my best option is to turn Vera loose to chew the scenery.  I hadn't intended to flush out her backstory more than the original piece, but she's not someone who shies away from further character exposition.  Today: 1156 words.  Total: 36466]