I think it’s because they bring her coffee, which I never do—and then she gets to stare at their asses as they trot away. “We’re staying in the motel next door tonight, but we’re probably taking off in the morning,” she says to a cute, blue-eyed, freckly girl. This particular waitress isn’t my type at all. She’s very slim and girly. She seems like a cool person, but she isn’t registering on my sexual radar. But she’s obviously registering on Kerry’s. “You’re so sweet,” Kerry says in response to an offer of sugar for her coffee. “Why don’t you just stick your finger in there and twirl it around?” “Oh, Christ. I can’t believe you just said that,” I murmur. But the waitress smiles. I try to distance myself from the cheesy pickup line by lighting a cigarette. I love that Bob’s Big Boy has a smoking section. I look into the mirror next to our booth. My roots need a touch-up, my hair is getting long, and the blonde highlights are a bit faded—but I’m wearing my favorite dress.
