Page 21 of Midsummer Phoenixes
“Sir, that guest who just came in. Do you know him?”
I lowered my voice. “The writer. And no, I don’t. But he’s been coming in here for years. He used to sit and write at table three until Soyer claimed it for himself. The writer’s the silent type, mostly has pie and coffee.”
“Hmm.” Ben nodded.
I grabbed the coffee pot and a cup, also one of our new menus. They were the same apart from a few updates such as the cherry milkshake and mention of our house dip. It also mentioned crêpes were available on request, a concession to Lindy Dwayne wasn’t really happy about. He had extracted a promise from me to recommend his fluffy “real” pancakes instead and not bother him with requests for “flimsy sheets of flavorless batter.”
The writer knew the old menu, and I hoped he’d appreciate this new and improved version. As I approached his table, he was opening his laptop. That meant it was the ghost in the machine lover who was with him tonight. Maybe he’d tell that lover all about the new menu, about the fresh colors and fancy new dishes, and maybe next time when he brought his notebook lover, he’d act all surprised about it, keeping up the pretense, making sure neither lover learned of the existence of the other.
Then again, I wasn’t sure that lover—either lover—would be interested in the menu. Living in a machine probably meant the real world wasn’t all that exciting. And really, I wasn’t sure anyone but me was as excited about all those little changes to the Moonlight.
I poured the writer some coffee and placed the menu next to his laptop. He looked at it as if he had no idea what it was, as if it were an alien object in the clear skies of his mind.
“We just made a few updates,” I told him. “Thought you might want to check them out. Or do you know what you want already?”
He looked at his keyboard, glanced up, glanced at the menu.
“Could I get a slice of cherry pie, please?”
“Sure.”
I left him, knowing full well he wasn’t the chatty type. I passed Rae, who was humming and moving to their own music, a plate with a Pride brownie in each hand.
“He said no?”
They shrugged. “Didn’t ask. I thought I’d give you all a taste of what you are missing out on first.”
They pirouetted toward their table to serve the brownies. I got the writer his cherry pie and put one slice aside, just in case. I didn’t want Soyer to come in here on the very day we reopened and not get his pie.
Maybe I’d been off work for too long, but I even pulled out my fancy new phone and took a picture of the slice, sent it with the words “All yours.”
Soyer, of course, responded within seconds.
Soyer
The pie or you?
he sent.
Amory
Lol, pie. Maybe both.
Soyer
Amory, are you trying to get me hard again? This time, I’ll have to come over there and take you into the office to help me with that.
Amory
Stop it, lol. I’m working.
Maybe take a cold shower.
Soyer
Look at you, my cruel lover.
Thank you for saving me pie.
