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“You’ll get used to it.” Vince lets out a soft chuckle. “This is the best damned blow-off job in town. You’re fuckin’ lucky.”
“What’re you bitches doin’??” comes the voice of the blond-haired concessionist out of nowhere, bursting in through the tall swinging door that leads out to the concession stand. His uniform is the same, except he’s got a bright red apron on over his clothes. “Bein’ a lazy pair of bitches? Or you bitches got work to do?”
“That’s … three times too many that you used that word,” says Vince with his half-lidded, bored-as-hell eyes. “Seriously, open a dictionary. Don’t you have a customer to scoop popcorn for?”
“It’s Sunday morning, man. No one comes to the theater except all the sinners. Hey,” he greets me with sudden courtesy. “I’m Anthony. You’re the new guy, huh?”
I frown. “Really, Anthony? We graduated together.”
He wrinkles up his face, as if I just gave him the world’s most complicated math problem to work out. Then he goes, “Wait. Wait a damn sec.” It clicks. “Bobby? … Bobby Parker?”
I give him a straight-lipped smile. “Don’t go pretending like you didn’t recognize me, Anthony Myers,” I sass him.
“Oh, shit.” His whole demeanor changes. He’s working out ten or eleven things in his head all at once. It’s an effort for him. “It’s been … Y-You’re Jimmy’s friend … Jimmy fuckin’ Strong.”
I give yet another nod of confirmation. “You and I had English together, too. And Spanish sophomore year.”
“Shit, you remember that?” Anthony snorts, gives a peek out the small circular window in the door to check for customers, then gazes back at me with wonder. “The hell you doin’ here?”
“He works here, numbnuts,” Vince tiredly retorts at him.
Anthony still seems perplexed. You really need to give this one extra time to make thoughts. “Huh. Which department?”
“Mr. Lemon hasn’t decided yet,” says Vince. “But probably the usher department. Mr. Lemon left him with me to train.”
“Huh.” Anthony crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, studying me with mounting frustration. “Huh.”
Vince lifts an eyebrow. “You gonna just stand there grunting for an hour? ‘Huh’? ‘Huh’? Didn’t Mr. Lemon tell you to restock the sodas when you didn’t have any customers?”
“I’ve got all day,” Anthony fires back. “Besides, I just spent all morning detail-cleaning the butter pumps. How ‘bout you go—”
Vince and Anthony go at each other a few times more before a “Hello? Anyone?” from a customer outside catches Anthony by surprise, and he quickly shoves back through the swinging door to greet them with a hearty, “Welcome to Spruce Cinema 5! Can I get you a large drink and popcorn today?”
After a moment, Vince nudges me. “What was that about?”
Vince is a few years younger than me, seventeen or eighteen if I had to guess, so he probably doesn’t know the whole drama. I fill him in. “Jimmy Strong was supposed to go to prom with this girl named Jazzy. She dumped him last minute for your friend out there, Anthony Myers. Whole town was talkin’ about it.”
Vince’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. That does sound familiar …”
“Yeah, it ought to. The next thing Jimmy did was ask me to prom instead.”
A chuckle jumps out of his chest. “Wow. Yeah, I remember all that. I was in gym class when I heard. We talked about it through a whole match of dodgeball. Couldn’t believe it.” He eyes me. “So you’re that same gay Bobby dude, huh?”
Gay Bobby dude. Somehow, coming from this totally laidback Vince guy, I don’t mind the phrasing. “Yep.”
“Phew. No wonder Anthony hates Jimmy so much.”
I frown and shoot Vince a look. “Huh? He hates him? Why?”
“Anthony’s loud n’ rude n’ hates being shown up by anyone. I bet he felt like a king for a day, the day a girl dumped the Jimmy Strong for him. Then Jimmy stole all his thunder by prom-posing to you.” He shakes his head and kicks at a stray popcorn seed on the floor, sending it scuttling across the tile. “Jimmy not only stole all of the glory back for himself. He also made Anthony and Jazzy look like loser villains, all in one big prom-posing fell swoop.”
I bite my lip in thought and stare down at my hands. “Hmm. Never thought of it that way.”
“Don’t let it get to you, man. Anthony only works part-time, anyway. You’ll barely see him, I’m sure.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and glance up at that swinging concession door, doubting it very much. My whole summer’s gonna be plagued with dirty looks from Anthony Myers. I can see it now.
Five long hours later, my training day comes to an end, and the manager Mr. Lemon is too busy to even come downstairs from the office to give me a last word, so Vince is the one who pats me on the shoulder, says, “Great first day. See you tomorrow,” and leads me to the employee lounge to show me how to clock out.
