Mark’s laughter booms over the din of late-morning diners at Ryan’s. When I hear Mark from a few tables away, I duck behind a table like I’m picking something off the floor, hoping he doesn’t see me.
“Can I get some shrimp or what?” Mark yells out. It is ten o’clock in the morning. Mr. Robbins furls his thin brow and waddles his fat body in Mark’s direction. He’ll need reinforcements. It is not just Mark, but also Tony, Scott, Kevin, and four girls I don’t know.
The laughter ends and I hear, even from my long distance, some harsh words exchanged, many only four letters. “My little brother works here!” Mark shouts. “Let me talk to him.”
Rather than having Mr. Robbins find me, I stand up as straight as I can and walk over to Mark. He and his friends laugh when they see me. Maybe if I were in their dancing-all-night party shoes, I’d laugh at the sight of me as well. “Mark, we don’t put out shrimp until lunch.”
“What time is it?” The question cracks up his entourage. From the crazed sound of their chortles, they are no doubt in need of food to soak up whatever chemicals they’ve ingested.
I look at my watch. He pulls out his phone. It shines.
“What, don’t you have a phone?”
He knows why. “Or some decent clothes? You buy some clothes with that cash?” I shake my head, embarrassed at the scene we’re making. Mr. Robbins has retreated to the other side of the room. “Luke, you don’t have to be doing this crap. You’re my little brother—I’ll teach you what you need to know. We could hang out all the time if you work with me—”
I feel a twinge when he says “little brother.” All I ever wanted, growing up, was to be like Mark. But I shake my head, enough to almost knock off the hairnet they make us wear.
Then I change the subject. “We’re going to be in the semi-finals. The game is Friday.”
“Busy.” Mark sits down, pulls in his chair, and pretends I don’t exist.
One word is all my brother has for me. I get it. He can’t stand basketball ever since he broke his ankle and lost his dreams. I head back to work. Mark turns to his friends. We don’t talk again until just before he exits. He hands me a tip. It is another crisp hundred. I pocket it.