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“That’s all?” the waitress said.
“Put some lime slices in them. Bring us some of that gumbo, too.”
“I don’t t’ink we have limes,” the waitress said.
“Don’t worry about it. The Cokes are fine,” he said.
Tee Jolie rested her chin on the heels of her hands. “Blue said you was nice.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said.
“The gumbo is made from robins. It’s illegal to do that. But we eat them anyways.”
“A couple of movies got made around here. Nobody asked you to try out for a part?”
She shook her head, smiling coyly. “Why you ax that?”
“Because you’re photogenic.”
She looked sideways, then back at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
He pointed at her. “That expression right there. Your face is an artwork. No matter when the camera freezes, the frame tells a story. Robert De Niro and Meryl Streep are like that. Your face has the same quality. It’s called photogenic. No one has ever told you that?”
“Not recently.”
“Look, this is a nice part of the country. I love the weather and the accents and the food and the music and all that stuff. But maybe you ought to think about expanding your horizons a little bit.”
She was smiling at him, more tolerant than flattered, interested perhaps more in the manner of his presentation than its substance. “I’m gonna be a movie star?”
“A writer doesn’t have a lot of influence in Hollywood. But I have friends in both the music and film industry who trust my instincts, God only knows why. I also know people who run an acting school, one that gives scholarships. I can make a couple of inquiries. It’s like prayer. What’s to lose?”
The waitress returned with their gumbo and drinks. “I had him put candied cherries in the Cokes. He was gonna put some old lemons in there. I tole him not to do that,” she said.
“Appreciate it,” Weingart said, nodding profoundly. He waited with his hands in his lap while the waitress seemed to take forever placing the bowls and glasses and paper napkins and plastic spoons on the table. “We all finished here now?”
“That’s sixteen dol’ars,” she said.
He counted out twenty-five dollars on her tray, putting the denominations in separate piles so the amount of his tip was obvious to anyone watching.
“T’ank you,” the waitress said.
Tee Jolie dipped her plastic spoon into the gumbo and placed it gingerly in her mouth. “You gonna ax me if I want an audition now?”
“I’m not sure that’s what you want. I think you’re a woman who goes her own way in her own time.”
“But you’re fixing to leave, aren’t you?”
“Why do you think that?”
“’Cause don’t nobody in a club give a big tip till he’s fixing to leave. I used to work in a restaurant.”
“You’re pretty smart. I’ve got a key to a sound studio in Lafayette. We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“You didn’t try to kiss Blue in your li’l car?”
“She told you that?”
“No.”
