“No sir.”
The man walked across the room and picked up a long case. Then he took the instrument from it and played a long low note. “It isn't the instrument that will get you the girls, but it's alright. Is that something you'd like to do son?”
“No.”
“Then finish school.”
Shepherd could think of nothing to say.
“Well make yourselves comfortable – you're going home tomorrow, and some of us still have to work. Eudora, I know a woman who can watch you. And as for you, Shepherd,” he took a long draw on his cigarette, “You get one chance to show if you have what it takes to make it in the city. Think you can bus tables tonight? You know, pick up the dirty dishes in a restaurant.”
It was the last thing the boy had pictured himself doing – but he would do it.
“Okay.”
“For one night then, you can see what the city's about. Glamorous and cruel – just like Cleopatra’s fingernails.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked at them. “How long have you all been awake?”
“Since yesterday evening.”
“Well then, get some sleep. Eudora gets the bed, and Shepherd, you get the couch.”
Despite their protestations, the very mention of sleep reminded them they were exhausted. He fed them scrambled eggs and sent them to their stations.
“Now sleep,” he said. And in spite of their nervous energy, they did.
*
That night while Eudora was put under the loving vigilant care of an obese “Aunt Olive”, Shepherd was working at the restaurant. They dressed him in a moth-bit, too big tuxedo (he still wore his old shoes) and set him loose upon a world of what he considered to be ritzy diners. It was the busiest he had ever been in his life, and he was not doing a good job of it. He dropped dishes, he knocked over people's water, he bumped into the waiters. The other bus boys laughed at him.
But Shepherd was fascinated by the place. It was like all the riches of the world had been poured in there, but in a contradictory way. The gold and mirrored decoration of the place and the tunes of the band were impeccable, but the club had an air of seaminess. There were rich and powerful men hobnobbing with beautiful women, but it was filled with a kind of boozy laughter. The carpet was thick rich crimson but downtrodden into paths; the ash trays were always full; the voices were as coarse as the crystal was delicate. It was a world of the money and power of this part of the state and the capitol, all reflected to a grotesque in the silverware.
He did not want them to know he was a country boy.
Suddenly he felt eyes watching him, and he turned to see someone in the shadows like a pearl set in steel, a life-filled contrast to the dazzling mire of the place. He saw the person he would forever after think of as the most beautiful girl is the world. She had hair like spun gold and unprepossessing large blue eyes. She looked displaced and a bit forlorn, like himself.
He ran back to the back and asked a waiter: “Who is she?”
“That's just the hat check girl,” he said.
“What's her name?”
“Rosemary.”
“Introduce me to her.”
The man yawned and stretched. “You're only here for one night, kid.”
But Shepherd persisted. “Introduce me to her, please.”
So the man did, and from that point on in the night he missed busing many tables. He went over and spoke with her. It turned out she was from the country too, but she had bigger plans. She had been sent to live with an aunt at the death of her father and she hated it. She wanted to run off as soon as she could. She was saving up.
“Do you want to run off with me?” she asked indifferently.
“I can't.”
“California is where to be. There's stuff happening out there.”
“I can't. I promised to finish highschool then college.”
“And get what? To be king of nothing out here?”
“I want to build roads.”
She scowled at him as if she were his elder, and laughed. “There's a road right out to California already and there's jobs for the taking.”
“I know.”
She looked at him coyly. “If I said I was leaving tonight, would you go with me?”
He looked at her and saw more strength in her to challenge him than he had expected, because he did not yet know what to make of the opposite sex. He straightened his sad tuxedo and wanted to puff out his chest and preen, but then all he said was, “I can't do it.”
“Well, suit yourself,” she said, and turned away.
“Wait...” he said.
“What?”
“Sit with me after work. I am only here for tonight.”
“And what will that gain me?”
“A little company, for one night. Company from someone who is displaced like you, somebody who needs someone to understand them.”
She could sense he was forlorn and laughed. “Okay.”
The sat together than night on the loading ramp behind the restaurant. She combed her fingers through his hair. “You look like a mess,” she said. “I think you are a mess.”
He kissed her, and then they sat closer the rest of the evening, looking at the stars which were as beautiful as the interior of the place was overwrought, and then his uncle found them.
“Where have you been?” He asked. “I was looking all over for you. I thought you'd run off.”
“I could have,” the boy said. “But I decided to stay and make a man out of myself.”
His uncle made him say goodbye to Rosemary, and they left to catch a scant bit of sleep before he drove them back home in the morning.
“I could have left with her, you know,” Shep said.
“Welcome to the big city, kid. It's full of 'almosts' with no second chances. But hey, if you come back after you finish highschool, maybe she'll still be here.”
The boy did not find this encouraging, and the next day he was sitting with his sister in the back of the car, heading for home.
###
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