The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (50 page)

“
Don’t do it, kid.”

Bobby smeared the booger onto the box. “Whatcha gonna do now, Pizza Man?”

Johnny bent down and whispered, “I’m not going to do anything because there’s a special place in hell for little boys like you who pick and smear their boogers on pizza boxes, and the Devil himself will be the boss of you for … ev … er.”

Bobby screamed loudly and ran out of the kitchen.

Maybe I should teach kindergarten,
Johnny thought.
I have a disarming yet effective way of disciplining children.

Bobby’s mama rushed into the kitchen cavern holding another sock full of change. “Why was Bobby screaming?”

Johnny pointed to the booger smear on the box. “Your son finger-picked a whopper and spread it on the box after I told him not to do so.”

Bobby’s mama flinched. “What is that?”

“
A booger, ma’am. Bobby likes to paste them on the box to upset me. He does this every time I come into your castle. Is he getting counseling for his nasal fetish?”

“
His what?” Bobby’s mama asked.

Better not push it. Rich ladies have a way of ruining poor men’s lives.
“Never mind.”

Bobby’s mama leaned closer. “But I’ve seen that … gunk on my pizza. I thought it was a new spice.”

I’m sure it was spicy, but Bobby must hate your rich, snobby tail, too.
Y’all need
family
counseling.
“It’s not an ingredient we use at Señor Pizza, ma’am, I assure you.”
Hector would only order cheap, Chinese snot anyway.

Bobby’s mama pulled the sock away. “Well, I don’t want it now!”

“
Of course you don’t,” Johnny said, “but you’re stuck with it. It’s yours. Pay me or not, I don’t care.”

“
Take that … that out of here!”

Johnny shook his head. “Your kid boogers it, you buy it. And if I ever deliver here again, do not give me another sock. Write me a check. Give me a twenty. Give me twenty ones. Just don’t ever give me your change in a sock again. It’s demeaning to me, and it makes you look stupid.”

“
I, I, I—”

“
And buy some Kleenex for your son. You can afford it. Heck, buy him the gold foil kind. He likes digging for gold.”

On his way from his last delivery for the run, Johnny looked across the city skyline at the lit-up, multi-million-dollar houses on Mill Mountain.
What a waste of electricity on that mountain! How can we have a starlit night with those beacons drowning out the night? I guess it’s okay. Our homeless will be able to see better down here because of their waste.

Johnny stopped by Quick-E Mart, entered, and slapped a ten on the counter in front of Gladys and ahead of three other customers. “Ten on pump number three.”

“
Wait yer turn,” Gladys said.

Johnny shook his head. “No. Turn on the pump, Gladys.”

“
Listen at him,” Gladys said to the other customers. “He thinks he can tell me what to do.” She looked down. “Ooh, a ten.” She turned to the other customers. “He usually only spends five cuz he’s so cheap. One squirt of the pump and he’s done.” She faced Johnny. “You don’t own the place, buster. Now get in line.”

Johnny stared hard at the other customers, cracking his neck twice for emphasis. “Y’all don’t mind if I jump in line, do you?”

Three shaking heads.

“
I’m first in line now, Gladys. Ten on pump number three.”

Gladys leaned closer, her cigarette smoke swirling around her face. “Get to the end of the line. Now.”

Johnny sighed.
Gloria has told me all about your criminal behavior, Gladys. I was going to put your stupidity in my book, but now I’m going to share it with the world. I hope all the cameras are running.
“You ever have a kid come in here to get beer and some smokes, Gladys?”

Gladys blinked.

“
You know, the teenaged kid who uses a fake ID and comes in to buy some controlled substances and tells you to keep the change from a twenty. Then you pocket about eight bucks a night for illegally selling beer and tobacco to a minor.”

The other customers turned their heads toward Gladys.

Humans are so fickle,
Johnny thought.

Johnny pointed at several cameras dangling from the ceiling. “See those cameras, Gladys? They record everything, Gladys. Everything. Unfortunately, unless there’s a robbery or the register comes up short, no one ever checks the tapes. But what will happen if your district manager looks closely at those tapes of you and that kid after I make one innocent phone call? Huh?”

Gladys’s cigarette had almost burned down to the filter, the ash looking like the snake tattoos on Gladys’ neck.

“
Ten on pump number three, Gladys. Now.”

Gladys turned on the pump.

“
And get those tattoos removed from your neck, Gladys,” Johnny said. “They make you look as if you don’t bathe.” He sniffed the air. “I take that back. You
don’t
bathe. It makes you look as if you’re full of tapeworms.”

Gladys stubbed out her cigarette.

“
You have any applications back there, Gladys?” Johnny asked. “I think I want to work here.”
Not.

Gladys quickly found one and slid it across the counter. “Will there be anything else, um, sir?”

Johnny browsed the application, looking for the “Check here if you are stupid, tattooed, and a cow” box.
Nope. Quick-E-Mart must be desperate.
He shook his head. “I’d probably quit if I were you, Gladys, you know, before you’re arrested.”

Johnny tipped his hat to the other customers, went outside, and pumped his gas. While he waited, he decided to call Gloria using a payphone, its black metal surface scored with dozens of names, numbers, and curses.

Now how would Gunn play this? Would he still try to win his woman back after what he had seen? No. He would act as if nothing happened for a while and then he’d bust her out.

He dropped in several quarters and pushed the numbers.

“
Hello, Minnick residence,” Marion said.

“
It’s Johnny, Marion. I’m on a payphone. Let me speak to Gloria.”

After a few moments, Gloria said, “Busy night?”

“
Crazy night,” Johnny said, casually. “Um, I think Gladys is about to quit.”

“
How do you know?”

“
I think she suddenly found a conscience. I, um, busted her out about selling beer and cigarettes to kids in front of some of your customers.”

“
Oh, Johnny, why’d you do that? I wanted to fire her.”

“
Sorry. My way was quicker. Firing her obese self would have taken at least a week.”

Gloria laughed.

Keep leading me on with that laugh.
Johnny looked up at the stars. “Paul still there?”

“
No. He left not too long after you did.”

Yeah. I saw him go after twenty minutes of him schmoozing with you and you feeling on his European chest.
“Have a nice conversation?”

“
I’ll tell you all about it when you come by later.”

Later? Why would I come by later? I’m nobody’s consolation prize. I know enough now about you and Paul, thank you, and I do not intend to come by—ever.
“How’s Angel?”

“
She’s working that puzzle. She’s more than halfway done already.”

Trying to impress her daddy, no doubt. Bet she misses him already.

“
Would you like to speak to her?” Gloria asked.

No. I don’t have a French accent or long, curly hair.
“It’s okay. I have a lot of deliveries to make.”
All none of them.

“
Well, are you coming over after your shift?”

“
I don’t know,” Johnny said. “Won’t Paul be back?”

“
I doubt it. I told him to leave.”

This should be good. Let’s see how creative she can be.
“Why did you tell him to leave? He seemed like such a nice guy.”

“
I told him to beat it so Mama wouldn’t kill him.”

Uh-huh. Right.
“Why would she ever want to kill him?” Johnny heard a door close on Gloria’s end. “Where are you?”

“
I’m in the bathroom with the door closed,” Gloria whispered. “Mama and Angel are downstairs.”

Strange time to try keeping secrets in that house.
“Is the toilet roll coming over the top or from the bottom?”

“
Over the top, of course.”

Like this little tale I’m about to hear.
“So, why did your mama want to kill precious Paul?”

“
Mama wanted to kill him because, well, he pretty much said I trapped him into a baby, said I was irresponsible, called me coarse and uncivilized, that sort of thing. I, um, I told him to leave.”

With your hand caressing his massive French Riviera chest. She should be the one writing romances, not me.

“
He’s not interested in me at all, Johnny.”

Ah. Paul is playing hard to get. What woman doesn’t like that? Obviously, Gloria wasn’t playing hard to get. I bet she won’t wash her hand for a week.

“
Once he saw Angel, he just wanted to, I don’t know, gush over what he had made,” Gloria said. “He’ll be leaving again for South America in May, so he won’t be around long.”

He’ll be around for …almost three months. Almost long enough to have a relationship with Gloria as long as mine was. Great.
“You and Angel have passports?”

“
What?”

“
Passports. They let you go to other countries without them throwing you jail.”

“
No. Why should we have passports?”

Oh, don’t play coy with me, Missy Marie Antoinette. Time to use the guillotine.
“Y’all sure had me fooled.”

“
What?”

“
Y’all were certainly the happy family when I came in.”
Pretty as a picture.

“
What are you talking about?”

She’s good at playing coy.
“You and Paul and baby girl make three. A family.”

“
Johnny, we haven’t been a happy family in over a month.”

That was a pretty original evasion, but I’m not buying it.
“I’ll bet Angel misses her smart, interesting father already.”

“
Not really. She only shook his hand when he left.”

I shook hands with my father, too. What does that prove?

“
And he’s not that smart and definitely not that interesting,” Gloria said. “You can’t be jealous of him.”

“
Oh, he’s just the man you slept with, that’s all, here in all his fabulous French flesh.”

“
What? When Paul was only some guy from my past, you had no problems with him.”

“
But now he’s here.”
And you’re pawing him? Should I say that now? Better wait for the precise moment. Timing is everything in a romance gone bad.

“
Like I said, he’ll be leaving.” Gloria sighed. “Look, Johnny, it’s been kind of an emotional night for me, okay, and I really have to talk to you.”

I’m feeling pretty peachy myself. I’m single-handedly ruining Hector’s business and becoming unemployed and unemployable. I’m also probably permanently single.

“
Did you do any writing while, um, while you were away?” Gloria asked.

Ah. Trying to change the subject, are you? Well, let’s see. I lost my Muse and stopped writing. Oh, and the diarrhea. Yep. That kept me from the computer. No electrical outlets in the bathroom, and the computer’s useless battery only makes it weigh more.
“I am thinking of writing something new. Want to hear the plot outline?” He heard the gas pump click.
That was quick.