“Take bread dough. Spread the top with tomato sauce, but not to the edges. Just the majority of the middle. Sprinkle lots of mozzarella cheese on top, and then throw some pepperoni on top of that. Perfection, Lynnie. Pure perfection.” Roger grabbed a slice of pizza and chopped down to emphasize his point. He grinned while chewing, letting gobs of cheese spill through the hole in his smile where his tooth should be.
“Really? Don’t you like peppers, or ham, or maybe some mushrooms? Anchovies?” Lynnette struggled to curl her frizzy ginger hair behind her ears, but the unkempt length and volume proved too unruly to handle. She had forgotten a hair tie once again. Searching the small pizzeria for some sign of life other than her own, she noticed the grime coating the black-and-white-checked linoleum floor. She saw the red counter top, its Formica curling back at the edges. The delicious smell of freshly baking pizza wafted from the kitchen, where Tony was surely at work, his sweat making his sailor tattoo glisten on his left bicep. Those oven mitts sure were sexy.
I wonder if he has a rubber band, she thought, feeling her cheeks flush at the memory of the last time they had spoken.
“Ya usual, I guess?” Tony asked, brushing the crumbs from his palms and whipping the pen from behind his ear. “Large pepperoni?”
“Uhm…uh…yeah. Yes, a large pepperoni,” Lynnette said, smiling nervously.
“Aight then,” he replied, jotting the order down on his notepad. “It’ll be about…fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”
“Lynnie? Lynnie! He-lllloooo?” Roger was waving his greasy hands in front of her face.
“Sorry, bud. How’s the pizza? Just how you like it, right?” Lynnette realized she had been entranced by the thought of Tony for far too long. No way could she ever approach him for anything other than pizza.
“Yeah, Lynn, it’s great. I love it, remember? I love pizza!” he exclaimed, shoving another piece into his mouth for affect.
“Of course, bud. Careful, though. You’re getting pizza all over Batman.” Lynnette reached over the pizza to brush the crumbs from Roger’s favorite t-shirt.
“I know! I’ll zip up so he doesn’t get anything in his eyes,” Roger exclaimed, grabbing the bottom of his red sweatshirt. His greasy fingers slipped on the zipper, and Lynnette tried to help.
“Buddy, you really need to try to keep yourself tidied up, alright?”
“Okay, okay,” replied Roger as he wiped the grease off of his fingers and on to the legs of his denim overalls.
“Oh no no no! Roger, not on your pants.” Lynnette handed him some napkins and shook her head. As she pulled her arm back, she realized she had gotten pizza sauce all over her own sleeve, and quickly whipped her arm out of Roger’s sight.
“Roger! You even have sauce in your hair! How did that happen?” Lynnette shook her head again and tried to get the dried sauce out of his blonde bangs. He rolled his bright blue eyes in response.
“Lynnie, I can do it myself. Trust me,” he said, pinching his hair with his still-greasy fingers. His eyes strayed to the corner of the room and he let out a high-pitched squeal.
“A spider! A spider! Lynnie, KILL IT!” He jumped on top of the table, knocking the pizza on to the floor and splattering sauce everywhere.
Lynnette looked down and noticed that she was covered in pizza sauce. The flowers on her button-down blouse were completely covered it. Even the cats’ faces on her charm bracelet and locket were soaked in it. She blushed again, this time in utter embarrassment. She smirked awkwardly, realizing that the color in her cheeks probably matched the color of her glasses, the smart pair she had dug out of the clearance bin at the vintage clothing store around the corner.
“I’ll git it, buddy,” Tony said, appearing behind Lynnette like a ninja. He wadded up the few paper napkins left on their table and rushed to the corner of the room, grabbing the spider in the wad and squishing it into submission.
“See? Nothin’ ta be scurred of. Don’ worry aboutit,” he grinned, revealing the silver barbell in his tongue. He grabbed another napkin, licked it, and tried to wipe the sauce off from under Roger’s left eye.
“Oh, uh…ha ha…I think that’s, well…that’s a birthmark, uh, Tony. Doesn’t, um, it doesn’t come off,” Lynnette smiled again, twirling the cubic zirconium ring on her left ring finger. She sniffled and pulled the wad of Kleenex from her sleeve before realizing that Tony was still there. Her cheeks went red once again.
“Oh. Well, okay, gramma,” Tony replied, winking at her before returning to the kitchen.
“Lynnie, I’m gonna play some Pac-Man, okay?” Roger made his way to the arcade at the back of the pizzeria, his sauce-covered Nikes squeaking against the linoleum.
“ Five minutes, bud. We have to go upstairs to feed Heathcliff and Roderick,” Lynnette replied, wiping her nose.
“Aw man! Those stupid cats. They aren’t even yours, Lynnie!” Roger exclaimed.
“Well, we could go now, if you’re going to call the strays stupid.”
“Fine. Fine! Just take me home. I want to see if I got another letter from Mom,” he replied, pulling the last letter out of his sweatshirt pocket. Lynnette could barely make out the APO number.
“She really wants to Skype with me, but Grandma won’t buy a computer,” he said. “Could I maybe use yours sometime?”
“Sure, bud. Right now, though, let’s get you back to Grandma’s,” she replied, zipping his sweatshirt up to combat the chilly Seattle air. She grabbed her rain coat and threw it on over her blouse and corduroy skirt and headed for the door, her hiking boots clunking as she went.
“See ya tomara, guys!” Tony yelled, waving.
Maybe not, Lynnette thought as she held the door open for Roger. She looked upstairs to her bedroom window, where an ivory lampshade reflecting off of her beloved antique picture frames. Maybe I’ll never see you again.
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