CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What we know about this man?”
Viola Denton, called Viyla by everybody in town, was the manager of the diner. She looked at the letter in front of her. She received it by special courier late yesterday. “His name Tyrone Black. He has a wife and four kids it says on this paper.”
“But what he coming here for?” asked Willie. As the cook and, at fifty, the oldest member of the staff, he would often ask the questions nobody else would ask. “You say a man with a wife and four kids coming to town, and I wanna know why. Nobody comes to Washwater to live. People leave, but I ain’t never seen nobody come.”
They were sitting around in the back office off from the kitchen. The diner didn’t open until eleven and they were expecting the new owner around that time. “Again I ask,” said Willie, “why he coming here?”
“According to this letter,” said Viyla, “he coming here because he lost his shirt in real estate.”
“He lost his shirt?” asked Bertha, one of the two waitresses. She, like the manager, was in her thirties. “What that mean, Viyla?”
“He didn’t do well in real estate. He lost all his money.”
“Then why that paper didn’t just say that?”
“That’s how them northerners talk. But anyway,” said Viyla, looking back at the paper, “it says he lost his . . . he lost all his money in real estate. He heard a friend of his had a diner he was looking to unload, and what that mean is he was looking to get rid of it, and so he decided to buy it from his friend.”
“So the man that used to own this diner, somebody we ain’t never met,” said Willie, “done already sold it to this man who’s coming here today that we never met?”
Viyla nodded her head. “That’s what this letter says.”
“What if he mean?” asked Nell, the other waitress. At twenty-four, she was the youngest member of the staff.
“Then he just gon’ have to be mean,” said Viyla. “There’s nothing we can do about that. We just need to do our jobs to the best of our abilities and stay out of his way.”
“What if he wanna fire us and hire his own people?” asked Bertha.
“Hire his own people?” asked an incredulous Willie. “Where these people at? Ain’t nobody round here trying to work at this diner. They all already working at the factory, which don’t pay nothing, either, but it pays more than this diner pays.”
Viyla knew it was going to be a long day. “Go get me another cup of coffee,” she said to Nell, and Nell grabbed Viyla’s mug and hurried out of the room. “We just got to keep doing what we doing, and don’t worry about what that man gon’ say or do. He’s gonna do whatever he sees fit, and that’s his right, but we can’t worry about that.”
But Willie was shaking his head. “I don’t like this one bit, Viyla. Not one bit. This some mess going on here.”
Viyla frowned. “What mess, Willie Joe?”
But Willie shook his head again. “Some mess going on, I’m telling y’all,” he declared firmly as if he had all the evidence in the world, when they all knew it was more likely just in his mind.
But outside, while they were having their morning meeting, Reno, Trina, Sophia, and Carmine were just getting out of their dusty SUV. “This is the diner?” asked a shocked Sophia.
“It says Washwater Eats ,” said Trina, looking up at the sign over the dilapidated storefront building where peeling wood was only matched by the paint peeling off of the wood. “This looks like the only diner in this town, and Sal said there’s only one. He just couldn’t remember the name of it.”
“He knew the name,” said Reno. “Sal doesn’t forget a thing. This shit funny to him.”
“Who would eat in a place that looks like this?” asked Carmine.
“Let’s just go in,” Reno said.
“It’s closed. Don’t you see that closed sign, Daddy?”
“What are you talking closed? I own this shit, remember?”
Carmine had forgotten that ownership was a part of their cover. Reno used the key to unlock the door.
When he and his family walked inside, Nell the waitress had just filled up Viyla’s mug with coffee and was about to take it back to her. But as soon as she saw the Gabrinis walking in, she dropped the mug in shock.
Reno frowned. “What’s your problem?” he asked her.
“Cracker!” Nell yelled and began running to the back. “A cracker! A cracker out there y’all! A cracker out there!”
As soon as Viyla, Willie, and Bertha heard that slur, they all jumped up and hurried to the front.
Reno and his family, already up front, were confused. “What’s she talking?” Reno was asking his family. “What cracker?”
Trina, Sophia, and Carmine were trying to suppress their grins.
“Who she calling a cracker?”
“Apparently you, Reno,” Trina said.
“Yeah right. I got her cracker right here,” he said, grabbing his balls.
“Daddy, that’s obscene,” said Carmine. “Stop that at once.” But Sophia and Trina were too busy grinning.
Then the staff came up front. When they saw Reno and his family, they stopped all at once just as Nell had done. They were all shocked too.
Reno leaned toward Trina and whispered. “What’s wrong with these people?”
“We’re very well dressed. Maybe they didn’t expect us to turn out so nicely put together.”
Reno looked at Trina. “I’m sure that’s not it,” he said. His suit, although expensive, was already wrinkled and his hair was messy and all over the place the way it usually was.
But Viyla realized they were just standing there, and she hurried up to them.
“That gal alright?” Reno asked her as she walked toward them.
“You mean Nell? Oh yes sur. She just ain’t used to seeing no crack, I mean no white person in these parts. Please forgive her.”
“So are you saying there are no white people in this diner,” asked Reno, “or are you saying there are no white people in this town?”
“Other than the mayor and the sheriff, and we don’t hardly ever see either one of them, that’s right,” said Viyla.
“Right to which one?” Reno asked.
“To both of them child,” said Trina as she smiled and extended her hand to Viyla. “Excuse his manners. What’s your name?”
“My name is Viyla Denton, ma’am. And this here,” she said as she motioned for her staff to come up beside her, “is Bertha, one of our waitresses. Nell, our other waitress. And Willie, our cook. I’m the manager.”
“And I’m the owner,” said Reno in that arrogant, dictatorial way he didn’t even realize was his regular voice. “Nice to meet all of you. This female right here,” he said, glancing at Trina, “is my bag of bones Katri . . .” He almost said her name.
But he’d already offended her. She gave him a hard look. “Your bag of bones ? Really, Reno? Is that what we’re doing? Do I look like a bag of bones to you? And don’t answer that,” she added, knowing that Reno was not above going there.
Then she looked at Viyla again. “Don’t mind Reno. He’s got jokes all the time.”
“Oh, but. . .”
“But what?” Trina noticed how attractive the manager was. They all couldn’t help but notice that. But she also noticed the manager’s confused look. “What is it?”
“I thought y’all was the new owner. Or you was, sur.”
“I told you I was the owner,” said Reno. “What’s your problem?”
“I’ll tell you the problem,” said Bertha, who wasn’t as diplomatic as Viyla. “Your bag of bones said your name was Re-somebody.”
Reno looked at Trina. And Trina looked at Reno. It stood to reason that Sal would have given them different names! His funny ass probably purposefully had forgotten, they both realized in that moment, to tell them what those names were.
“Oh that’s right,” said Trina. “I was just . . . We have a running joke going, that’s all.”
“How can that be?” asked the always curious Nell.
They all looked past Viyla at the waitress. “How can what be?” Trina asked her.
“How can a joke run? I ain’t never seen no joke run. You Willie Joe? You ever seen a joke run?”
“Never,” said a very suspicious-looking Willie. “And I tell jokes all the time.”
Every member of the staff looked back at that sourpuss Willie when he told that lie.
But Trina was astounded. “Oh my,” she said under her breath. “We aren’t in Kansas anymore.”
“Kansas?” asked Reno. “When we ever been in Kansas?”
Trina looked at Sophia. She was, once again, suppressing laughter.
“This is going to be a long vacation,” said Carmine.
“A running joke is a figure of speech,” said Reno to Nell. “And if you say you didn’t know a speech had a figure then I’ll--”
“Reno!” Trina said angrily.
Reno quickly regained control of his temper.
“It’s just a way of saying that it was an inside joke. Something between my husband and me, that’s all,” Trina said. And she wasn’t going to say any more about it.
“So what’s our names?” Reno asked Viyla before realizing what he’d just said. “I mean, what name you know us as?”
“So you’re Tyrone then?” asked Viyla.
The entire family looked at her. “Tyrone?” Reno and Trina said in unison.
“That’s the name on that paper. In that letter. Tyrone Black.”
Sophia, Carmine, and Trina couldn’t help it. They burst into laughter. Reno’s jaw tightened. “I’m gonna kill Sal,” he said beneath his breath.
“What you said, sur?” asked Viyla. They were looking at the Blacks as if there was something wrong with them.
“No, I was just talking,” said Reno, composing himself again. “But yes, you’re absolutely correct. I’m Tyrone Black. We’re the Blacks.” Then he added, beneath his breath, “with a white man as the head of this family of blacks.” Then he spoke up again. “Yes, that’s me. That’s us. We’re the Blacks. I’m Tyrone. And this here is my wife Becky.”
Trina gave Reno the evil eye.
“And this is my daughter,” Reno said, knowing that Sophia was laughing at him too. “Her name is Clementine.”
Sophia’s smile left, which caused Carmine to laugh.
“They made a song about her,” Reno continued, “that’s how popular she is. And this is my boy, Carmine.”
Sophia looked at Reno as if upset that he didn’t give Carmine a ridiculous nickname. Carmine stood proud that he was the only one whose name Reno didn’t desecrate. “Nice to meet you,” Carmine said with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, too,” said Viyla. “And nice to meet you, Miss Black.”
“No, no, call her Becky,” said Reno, which caused Trina to look at him again. She was pissed. “Her nickname is Becky with The Good Hair . She just adores that name.”
Viyla glanced at her colleagues. What kind of name was that? But then she swallowed her shock and smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Becky with the Good Hair . Nice to meet you, Clementine.”
“Clementine,” asked Nell, “you want us to call you Clementine with the Good Hair too?”
“No!” Sophia said quickly. “Clementine is enough.” She looked at her father. “Trust and believe, Clementine is enough.”
“And you’re Car-somebody?” Nell asked the boy.
“I’m Carmine. Car-mine. Like this car is mine? I’m Carmine.”
Nell grinned. “Your name crazy,” she said. “You must be crazy too.”
“Oh really?” asked Carmine. “That’s your takeaway? That I’m the crazy one? After all this display you’ve seen? I’m it? Alright. Okay.”
“So where y’all come from?” asked Viyla, attempting to rein it all back in.
“We’re from . . . What did that letter say?”
“It said y’all from Des Moans.”
Reno frowned. “From where?”
Viyla pulled the paper out of her pocket and Carmine went over to look at the name. “Oh!” He looked at Reno. “Des Moines, father. We’re from Des Moines, Iowa.”
“Oh! Yeah, that’s where we’re from,” Reno said. “Little ol’ black family from little ol’ white Iowa. Born and bred. Can’t you tell?” Then he shook his head, inwardly plotting Sal’s murder.
“What’s your name?” Trina asked Viyla.
“She told you her name, Tree. I mean Beck,” Reno said. Then he realized he had forgotten Viyla’s name too. “What’s that name again?”
“My name Viyla. I’m the manager.”
“Viyla? Never heard that name before.”
“I bet that’s not her name,” said Carmine. “How do you spell it, Miss Viyla?” he asked with a smile.
“V-I-O-L-A.”
“Vi-ola?” asked Trina. “Oh! You mean Viola, like the instrument?”
They could tell Viyla had never heard of a viola. “Yes ma’am,” she said anyway.
Reno shook his head. “This trip is gonna be a trip,” he said under his breath.
Trina, frustrated, looked at the employees. “Could you excuse us for a moment, please?”
“Yes,” said Carmine, “could you excuse us for a moment?”
Viyla thought Carmine truly was crazy. In Washwater, children were seen and not heard. But that family was looking at her as if they fully expected her to answer the boy. “Okay,” was all she could figure out to say.
And Carmine pulled the family away from Viyla’s ears as they moved into a huddle.
“What you want, Becky?” Reno asked her.
“I got your Becky right here,” Trina said.
“What is it, Ma?” asked Sophia. “They’re looking at us as if we’re nuts.”
“I called this huddle,” Trina said, “because I want every one of you to stop laughing at these people.”
“Who’s laughing?” asked Reno. “I never laughed at them.”
“Soph and Carmine did, and you didn’t laugh, Reno, but you keep making those sly remarks under your breath as if they don’t have ears.”
“You mean like all this talking you’re doing right now as if they don’t have ears?” Reno fired back. “And I caught you laughing a time or two yourself.”
“Just watch yourselves,” said Trina. “Just because they’re country and come from a place where an alien would find strange and foreign and backwards, doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”
Sophia nodded her head. “You are so right, Ma,” she said. “But I was mostly laughing at you and Daddy.”
Both Reno and Trina gave their daughter a hard look. “Let’s just get this over with,” Trina said, and then they returned to Viyla and the staff.
“What time do we open?” Reno asked the manager.
“We’re open eleven to eight, sur.”
“You don’t serve breakfast?”
“No sur.”
“Why not?”
“Everybody be at work at the factory round breakfast time. When they get off at seven in the morning, they be too tired to come to a diner and eat. They go home to bed.”
“What factory?” Reno asked.
“The mill,” said Viyla. “It’s where every grown up in town that can work works.”
“Ever thought about getting a food truck and parking it outside of that factory when the nightshift knocks off that morning? That way you could give them a hot breakfast to take home and eat.”
Viyla looked at Reno like he was the stupid one. “Where we gon’ get a food truck from?”
“Yeah, Reno, I mean Tyrone ,” said Trina. “Where we gonna get this food truck from? Especially considering our circumstances.” Trina wanted to add and the fact that we’ll only be here for a few weeks tops so who gives a shit. But she didn’t go there. “Let me see the kitchen,” she said instead.
“Willie,” said Viyla, “take Becky With the Good Hair to the kitchen.”
“Becky is good enough,” said Trina, again giving Reno the stank eye.
But Willie was convinced they were all government plants put in place to get info on him for claiming his niece on his taxes so that he could get that earned income credit. He just stood there still staring at that weird family.
“Willie Joe!”
“I heard you the first time,” Willie said, snapping out of it, and then he headed for the kitchen without waiting for Trina.
Trina wanted to cuss his country ass out for not even acknowledging her, but she held her peace and followed him. Make no waves was her motto coming into this town. “You and Carmine wait up here,” Trina said to Sophia. “And keep an eye on your father,” she added, glancing at Reno. Viyla might have been a country girl, but she was a very pretty country girl.
But Reno was offended. “What you looking at me like that for?” he asked his wife.
But Trina only pointed two fingers and her eyes and then pointed them at Reno’s eyes as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Reno wanted to set her straight, but he held his peace too. “I need to see the books,” he said to Viyla instead.
“I keep’em back here,” Viyla said as she and Reno went behind the counter and as Sophia and Carmine took a seat at a booth by the window.
“And by the way,” Reno said to Viyla, “we need to stay closed today until we can clean up this place. And I mean top to bottom. I don’t run anything half-ass. I want everybody here until late tonight if it takes that long.”
“Night?” Nell hurried over to the counter when she heard Reno’s order. Viyla had pulled out a metal box and was unlocking it. “I can’t be staying till no nightfall, sur.”
“Oh yeah?” Reno had little sympathy for her. He remembered her cracker comment. “And why not, young lady?”
“Because Mama’nem mean,” said Nell.
Reno looked at her. “Mama’nem? What kind of name is Mama’nem?”
“Mama’nem will beat me raw if I ain’t home by dark. Mama’nem a-whoop me.”
Now Reno was concerned. “Beat you? He beating on you? I tell you what you do. If Mama’nem touches you again, you let me know about it and I’ll put my foot up his ass.”
Viyla, Nell, and Bertha looked at Reno as if he was the real alien. He was going to put his foot up her mama’s ass? Was that what he just said? Sophia and Carmine fought hard to suppress their grins.
But Nell, never the sharpest knife in the drawer, was just confused. “What you mean?” she asked Reno in her soft, childlike voice.
“Daddy,” said Sophia, coming to Reno’s rescue.
Reno looked over at her. “What?”
“Mama’nem is not her man. Mama’nem is her mother and those around her mother. Mama and nem .”
Now Reno was confused and frowned. “ What ?”
Sophia shook her head. “Never mind,” she said.
“I told you,” said Carmine. “Didn’t I tell you? Between Mommy and Daddy’s craziness and these good, albeit modern world challenged people of Washwater? This is going to be a long, long few weeks.”