Chocolate Sprinkles
Large, black Americano arrived at 10.25am. Perhaps mine’s the sort of diner that attracts liars and schemers, who knows? But here he was - black jeans, plaid shirt and slicked-back, jet-black hair. He blended in with most of the clientele in my diner. I often wondered why he didn’t wear a Yankees baseball hat to complete the set, after all, this is New York. Then again, who am I, a blue-eyed, blue-jeaned Englishman, to judge?
“Large, black Americano please, Charlie.” His timing allowed him the pick of any seat before the start of the mid-morning rush. But he always chose the third stool from the left, providing the picturesque view - the crumbling wall of the auto-shop opposite and the sidewalk weeds that lined the bottom. Mind you, I suspected that he never saw the wall, but rather dreamed of what lay behind it.
There were many things to get a man’s heart thumping on the other side of that wall - a pristine, 1960 Chevy; a 1964 Ford Galaxy that looked as if it had never been driven; and once, even a 1934 Buick Sedan. While they all came and went for their oil-checks, services and repairs, the biggest pulse-raiser was there, day-in, day out.
Maybe it was her hair, or her figure. Perhaps it was the way her charm outshone her oily overalls and bandana’d hair. There might even have been the, purely imagined, threat of her slugging you with a torque wrench if you crossed her, let alone asked her out on a date. Catarina, had the makings of a goddess. She was the mechanic all the guys wanted to hire then flirt with. I had long since made a self-referral to the friend-zone. After all, I am but a mere mortal.
“What’s a guy to do, Charlie?” Large, black Americano swung round on his stool to face me, his hands in the shrug-of-despair position
I prefer Charles. It emphasises my Britishness. I let it pass. “What's up? Hot weather bothering you? Or is it the economy today?”
He drained his cup as he walked over. “Call me Barney. I know you guys refer to customers by their drink orders, right? I'll tell you while you fix me a refill.”
Oh please, not another sad-sap story. I pushed the coffee loaded handle into place on the espresso machine and set about my job. He was a good customer, so it was only fair that I listen! “What's your problem, Barney?”
“My problem has a name, Charlie. My problem works in the auto shop. Comes in here every day for hot chocolate and to chat.”
My eyebrows shot up - without my permission. “Catarina? We don’t exactly chat. I know her order – hot chocolate with whipped cream. The most I get to say to her is, ‘Is that enough cream?’ She smiles, she pays, she leaves!”
He wagged his finger at me. “Smiles? Smiles? More like, flashes her baby blues and you give bonus chocolate sprinkles to lick off as she leaves - I see you, Charlie, I see you!”
I blushed, hoping the heat of the kitchen would cover for me. It was true. Every morning she came in, bang on 10.35. That’s a 10.30 break time plus five minutes to down tools, gather the rest of the guys and walk across the road. I don’t get it, to be honest. An Italian, coming into a coffee shop - that serves damn fine coffee mind you - and what does she order? Hot chocolate! I could forgive her. Who couldn't forgive that smile?
“You got your eye on her then, Barney?”
“Always watching that one, Charlie, always.” The thrum of the dishwasher filled the silence. “So, what are we going to do?”
“Do about what?” I was now more engaged in the conversation than I had planned to be.
“You’re a man of the world. British reserve to one side for a moment, how would a guy go about asking her out?” His head gestured towards the auto shop.
I presented him with his coffee. He slid a ten-dollar bill towards me and I gave him his change. “You need to have the pluck to do it first!”
“Ach, that’s a big hurdle, Charlie, we’ll come back to that.” He was now leaning, arms folded, on the counter. “What does a guy say in the first place?”
I mulled it over for a moment. “I think you have to go in assuming that she’s interested in you and just straight out ask. You might get rejected but you’ll get over it, if she’s worth the gamble.”
“Ya think? Have you tried it?”
I shook my head. “Me? Not a chance. But a good-lookin’ guy like you…”
He laughed. “So, it’s theoretical advice, not practical, then!”
“Carpe that diem, Barney.”
“Wise words. But what if…”
I stopped him. “Shush. She’s here.”
I stole a glance at my Pepsi-Cola-clock. Bang on time, the ping of the door announced her entry. Black curls fighting their way out of her bandana and pearly whites framed by perfectly applied cherry red lipstick, she approached the counter; three oily work-buddies as her entourage.
Barney stayed as he was, staring at the back counter while I set about making her drink, extra sprinkles and all. She fished out the correct money to pay, as always. While I made the remaining two cappuccinos and a latte, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she folded her arms and leaned on the counter, touching shoulders with Barney. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth closed as I watched her pick up Barney’s cup and take a sip, leaving red lipstick on the cup as she put it down.
“Yuck! You boys and your coffee. I don’t know how you can drink it!”
“You might like it with milk,” I offered.
“No thanks!” And like the passing of princess in a parade, she was gone.
Once the rest of her crew had paid and had left, Barney looked at me. I leaned on the back counter with arms-folded and looked back at him. “She likes you, Barney!”
“D’ya think?”
“Do I think? Damn right, I think!”
He waved me away. “She was just being nice.”
“Just being…” I grabbed my hair with both hands in exasperation. “Look at the lipstick on your cup, Barney – it’s a kiss by proxy!”
“Yeah, can I have a fresh cup?”
“BARNEY!”
He grinned. “Like I said, what’s a guy to do?”
I transferred Barney’s coffee to a fresh cup, lifted the counter and placed his drink on a table for two. “Sit down, Barney.”
We sat opposite each other. He put on a sham serious face. “Am I in trouble?”
I shook my head. “Ask me out!”
He looked me in the eye. “That’s very flattering, Charlie, but you’re not my type.”
“You need the practice. Try it.”
“Tell me what to say.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, just a simple, ‘Would you like to go on a date?” would probably do it!”
Barney shook his head. “That’s terrible. It’s too clunky. There’s got to be something better than that.”
My limitations as a relationship advisor shone like a beacon of failure, but I was now committed to the cause. I tapped my fingers, racking my brain. Barney just looked at me. I felt as if I was doing all the work.
He chuckled. “I can hear the cogs turning in your brain.”
“You need to take this seriously!”
“Okay, okay. We need something nice. Something to break the ice.”
“Yes, that’s good. A compliment to soften her up. What about saying she has nice eyes?”
“Cheesy!”
While we continued to discuss this, still with me doing all the legwork, a white van pulled up against the wall of the auto-shop.
“OK, what about saying something about seeing her in this diner and would she like to go out for dinner sometime and so on?” I suggested.
“And so on? What use is that? Specifics, we need specifics!”
I sighed. “Hi Catarina, it’s nice seeing you in the diner, would you allow me to take you out to dinner sometime?”
Barney touched my hand softly. “Why, I’d love to Charlie!”
We were both laughing as the door pinged open again and Sue walked in, ready to start her shift. I snatched my hand away from Barney’s, but she had seen. She just tutted and headed behind the counter to put on her apron.
The white van pulled away from the auto-shop. It had barely been there five minutes but I saw why it had been there straight away. There was now a prominent, “COMMERCIAL PROPERTY FOR SALE” sign sticking out, ninety degrees from the wall.
I looked back at Barney. He nodded, saying, “Yep, they’re closing down. The lease is up and they can’t afford to renew it.”
“You knew they were closing?”
“Uh huh,” he nodded again, “It’ll just be an empty shell by the end of the month.”
I clasped his shoulders. “That creates a crisis! She’ll be gone. We need to get you sorted!”
“Me? Sorted?”
“Come on, Barney, you’re doing this!” I looked over at Sue, “You can hold the fort for ten, can’t you?”
She didn’t look up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I grabbed Barney by the lapel of his jacket and led him out of the diner. We crossed the road to the entrance of the auto shop where Barney stopped. “The words Charlie, the words!”
“Take a breath! Hi. I saw you in the diner, would you like to go out to dinner sometime? Easy, yes?”
“OK, OK. Don’t let me down, Charlie.”
I frowned. “How would…?”
But he was off, walking across the oily space towards a bright yellow, 1978 New York Taxicab. I hurried to keep up. There was a pair of overalled legs sticking out from underneath and a half-drunk cup of hot chocolate on the bonnet. He gently tapped the leg nearest to him with his foot and, sure enough, Catarina rolled out from underneath and stood up. “Hey boys, what’s to do?”
Barney didn’t speak and for a moment, we both stood there like a pair of teenagers. I nudged him. “Go on…!”
He shook his head and whispered, “The words Charlie, the words…!”
I fixed him with a glare, dying inside on his behalf. “Hi Catarina, I keep seeing you in the diner and wondered if you would like to go out for dinner sometime.”
Catarina took both of my hands in hers. “I’d love to Charlie. Where shall we go?”
“What? No, not me – Barney!”
Still holding my hands, she cocked her head on one side. “Barney? Why would I go on a date with him?”
I pulled my hands away. “Hey! Be nice, it took him a lot of guts to come here.”
She reclaimed my hands. “To hell with ‘be nice', there's laws against love between a girl and her brother!”
She waited for the penny to drop. It dropped so hard it could have broken my foot.
“Your brother?”
Barney winked at me then turned to her. “Are we done here, Cat?”
“Sure, Barn. Don't forget Mum's birthday meal next week. Are you still on for picking me up?”
“No probs. See you tomorrow, Charlie, I’m expecting free coffee!” And with that, he sauntered back to the bustle of the Brooklyn streets. He was a liar and schemer all right. And I loved him for it.
A voice called across the auto-shop. “Hey, Cat, you nearly done with the cab?”
“Almost there, boss.” She turned to me. “Quick, what time does your diner close?”
“Erm, five. I think.”
“Perfect. You can come across and take me for dinner. I know a gorgeous Italian restaurant you can choose for us to go to!”