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At this announcement, the lady Cherry insulted threw the whole plate of fried rice at Cherry and it scattered in little tiny bits everywhere. Cherry screeched at the top of her lungs, then several more bowls of soup were hurled at Cherry, all of them by Tod and Stevie, who were pretty good aims.
Then Marianne ran around the table and tackled Cherry and they went down, rolling, grunting and pulling hair. Ally and I tried to separate them, while the lady who Cherry insulted jumped on top of all of us, and we were wrapped up in the mayhem. Cherry’s two friends got caught in it, mainly because we rolled into them and they toppled over like bowling pins.
I don’t really remember much after that, except Hostess Lady screaming, “Help! Police!” and running away.
Cherry and I somehow ended the scuffle together, rolling around in soup and fried rice, kicking, biting and pulling hair, when I was hauled up with two hands under my armpits.
I turned to see Tony Petrino, a uniform cop I knew, but not well. We’d seen each other at a couple of parties and once spent hours drunk in lawn chairs trying to decipher the hidden meaning to the words to Don McLean’s “American Pie.”
He dragged me straight out the front door and to the side of the restaurant where the parking lot was. Then he turned and unclipped the strap to his weapon.
“Back away, big guy,” he said to Tex.
“I’m with her. Bodyguard,” Tex replied.
Tony looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“It’s true, kinda,” I said, because it was. “Are you gonna arrest me?” I asked him.
He shook his head, “No fucking way. Your dad and Malcolm would have a cow, and I’m not arresting Lee Nightingale’s girlfriend. He’d have my balls. I like my balls where they are. Get in your car and get out of here.”
Tex and I didn’t wait around. This, as pertains to my current life, was a gift from the gods.
I thanked Tony, we got in the El Camino and took off. Tex turned into the Sonic a few blocks down and we parked at a menu speaker.
I looked around. I loved Sonic. They were the only fast food restaurant I knew that served tater tots.
But Sonic was a franchise.
“Tex—”
“I know, I know. But I saw it on a commercial. I’m hungry and they bring food to your car. No one’s gonna let us in with you wearin’ wonton soup and fried rice.”
This, unfortunately, was true.
“I’m sorry about the El Camino, it’s gonna smell like hot and sour. I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”
Tex shrugged. “Better ’n normal, I say.”
Then he asked me what I wanted, he barked our order into the speaker and I did my round of calls to the girls and boys of my circle, making sure they were okay, uninjured and unarrested. When I knew all was well in the world and I’d eaten tater tots smothered in frightening orange cheese chased by a chocolate malt, Tex fired up the Camino and we headed to Cat Land.
* * *
I tookmy second shower with the cat (named Rocky) watching me from the toilet seat. In my buying frenzy I’d forgotten sleepwear, so Tex gave me a clean flannel shirt and sweatpants, neither of which fit nor even came close, but something was better than nothing. I shoved my Chinese Food clothes in a plastic bag and tied the handles tight.
Tex gave good sleepovers. After my shower, he got out his hooch, which burned when it went down but seriously took the edge off. He also got out a bag of corn chips and one of those huge-ass bars of chocolate with almonds. We snacked and camped out in front of the television and watched whatever was on, including commercials, which in the Age of the Remote was unheard of. Tex’s big console TV appeared to be purchased during America’s Bicentennial and didn’t have a remote, and neither of us felt like getting up to change the channel every ten minutes.
Finally, Tex gave me a sheet, a pillow and a blanket and introduced me to Tiddles (a fluffy gray who settled on my belly), Winky (a sleek tiger-kitty with white feet who settled between my ankles) and Flossy (a tuxedo who settled in the crook of my arm). Tex put lights out and, as was per usual, I fell asleep.
I had a weird dream that started with the dial of a rotary phone, something I hadn’t heard in years.
Then, in my dream, I heard Tex say quietly (yes, quietly, this was how I knew it was a dream), “This Nightingale Investigations?” Pause. “Yeah, this is Tex MacMillan. Tell your boss I got somethin’ of his.”
Then the phone was replaced in its cradle.
I knew this was a dream. It had to be a dream because Tex would never give me up.
Never.
