Randy's Celebratory Brunch

Wearing a snow white overcoat that touched the heels of his boots, Randy Bachman followed the hostess through the restaurant and outside onto the dining patio beside the sidewalk. The hostess gestured for him to sit as Randy smiled under his gaudy sunglasses and sat down. As the hostess left, Randy flipped up the menu towards himself and peered at it over his bird-like nose.

A waiter approached him, Johnny. He smiled cordially and began filling a glass already set on the table with iced water.

“How do you do, my friend? My name is—”

“I’m fabulous, with a capital ‘F,’” Randy answered late yet very confidently. His voice was flamboyant and louder than it needed to be.

Johnny composed himself, caught off guard though not offended whatsoever. “Excellent. Well, my name is Johnny, and I will be your—”

“Hellooooo, Jooohnny,” Randy droned, like a classroom greeting their teacher. Randy giggled like a school girl from his own amusement.

Johnny blinked and remained professional. “Yes… I will be your server today. Would you like anything to drink besides water?”

“Yes,” Randy flicked the menu down and looked intently through his gaudy sunglasses. “I would like a… an apricot mimosa – in!” he held his hand out to prevent Johnny from walking away, “in a… very taaall flute, please.”

“I will find the tallest flute glass we have, although I believe they’re all the same size—”

“Yes, the tallest flute possible. Thank you – what was your name again?”

Johnny blinked in confusion. “Johnny.”

“Johnny! I would like one apricot mimosa, please. In!—in the tallest flute you have.”

“Of course.” Johnny walked away quickly.

Randy adjusted the beret he was wearing and pointed his nose towards the sky. He couldn’t wait until Johnny returned with the apricot mimosa so he could explain what the occasion was for. He took the napkin the water was sitting on and removed it from under the glass. Randy took out a pen from one of his overcoat pockets and clicked it open. He began practicing his signature on the napkin, trying to make it flow as naturally as he could while giving it a solid flick of his wrist.

He looked up and saw Johnny returned with a surprisingly large flute glass filled with an apricot mimosa. Randy stuffed the napkin in his pocket and folded his hands quickly on his crossed legs.

Randy held out both his hands to accept it like a goblet. “Thank you, thank you.” Randy gingerly sipped the top of the drink and set it down. He threw his head back and cried out. “Oh! De-lish! This—Johnny, you know you have the best mimosa’s, right?”

“Thank you,” he said disinterestedly.

“I tell people, ‘Look,’ I’ll say, ‘if you haven’t had a mimosa from Charlatan’s than you simply haven’t had a mimosa before.’ That’s what I’ll tell them! If you haven’t had a mimosa from Charlatan’s than you simply haven’t had a mimosa before!”

Johnny read the situation and decided he’d offer brief validation. “That’s a good one.”

“Yes! Your apricot mimosa is to die for.”

Johnny nodded awkwardly, unsure how to segue from that. “So… what can I get started for you?”

Randy cocked his head and glared up at Johnny. “I’m celebrating.”

Johnny waited for a further explanation but Randy waited. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Silence.

“What’s occasion?” Johnny finally asked.

“Well—you wouldn’t believe it,” he remarked offhandedly as he removed his gaudy sunglasses. Johnny was surprised how tired Randy’s eyes were. “I just published my… first book.”

“That’s really cool, congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Johnny knew there was no way out of the conversation. So he buckled up and prepared to bear the duration of this topic until he might finally get his brunch order.

“What’s it about?”

“Well, my life, but of course,” Randy gestured dramatically to himself.

“You wrote a biography?—”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Randy persisted through his rehearsed explanation. “No—it isn’t a bi-og-raphy. But a mere reflection of… en-counters­ I’ve experienced.”

Johnny nodded stagnantly, having no idea what he meant by that. “So, it’s fictional?”

“Yes! And no! I call it bifictional!” He laughed in an obnoxious manner, patting his crossed legs hysterically.

“Bifictional? That’s funny,” Johnny validated blandly.

“Bifictional! Because it is both fictional, and non-fictional! Bi-fictional.”

“I see. Well, congratulations on publishing the book, that’s really—”

“It’s about my journey, my life’s journey, to getting where I am today. It starts with me, though instead of my name I gave him a… different name. That way people won’t know it’s about me.”

Johnny nodded as he looked around for help. He made eye contact with another waiter, hoping he’d rescue him.

“It’s about me and my migration to America. After my father died, my mother and my… two sisters packed up everything and left Guatemala. That was in 1997. And I’ve lived here in Los Angeles for twenty-seven years, working hundreds of jobs, finally publishing a book. Where I have all I want.”

Randy spread his arms out wide and shook his head proudly. Johnny stood there wide-eyed, taken back by the personal information thrown at him.

“Wow, that’s all very interesting.” He felt bad by the wording.

“One of my sisters ended up going back to Guatemala and marring a dead-beat because it was too hard for her here. Mostly because she and my mother hate each other. And my mother is… truthfully… a bitch. Most of the time—I’m not being rude when I say this, I love my mother – but she can be the biggest bitch.”

Johnny had no idea what to do or say. This stranger was sharing far too many details about his life and had no out. In fact, he needed to still take his brunch order.

“Well, I’m happy you made it to where you are. Um… before I forget, are you fine if I go ahead and get your order? I want to make sure I come around the other tables, too.”

“Yes!” Randy seemed unbothered by the blunt transition and glanced quickly at the menu. “The… eggs benedict. With! With an extra cup of hollandaise sauce. Your hollandaise sauce is to die for.”

Johnny nodded and quickly took a step away. “I’ll be back with that shortly.”

Johnny escaped inside and quickly found a co-worker to vent to. Johnny confessed how annoyed he was with Randy and how strange and personal he was being. She agreed that he seemed extremely weird, yet her morbid curiosity encouraged Johnny to tell her all the rest of their conversations together, just to see how weird they’d get. Johnny agreed, finding that his customer was odd enough to take advantage of the situation. However, when Johnny finally got the eggs benedict, he turned around and saw Randy slouching in his chair. He looked quite depressed. The flamboyant spunk seemed drained from him, and his posture indicated like a billboard his loneliness. Johnny felt embarrassed he just made fun of him when clearly this man came to find company. He walked back outside with Randy’s order.

“Here we are,” Johnny said slowly as he set the plate on the table. He noticed Randy perked up and turned back on his flamboyant charm.

“Oh! It looks de-lish!”

“Let me know if I can get anything else for you,” Johnny stated politely.

“I ab-solutely will. Thank you, Johnny!” Randy smiled brightly.

Johnny stood there and pondered for a moment. “Congratulations again on your book. I hope it succeeds.”

Randy craned his neck forward, as if he was preparing to thank him in a very unique way, but Randy said nothing. He smiled a little and nodded gently. “Me too.”

“I imagine you’ll be famous one day.”

“Oh! Darling, to those that know me, I’m already a star.” He thrust his hands up and twisted his wrists in a very dramatic way.

Johnny laughed at the performance.

“Would you like my autograph? It’ll be worth more now before I start… signing everybody’s breasts on the street.”

Johnny chuckled again at the absurdity. “You know what? Sure.”

Randy looked around for something to autograph on when Johnny tore out a sheet from his notepad and placed it on the table. Randy delightfully flicked his wrist as he waved his signature beautifully on the page. Johnny couldn’t help but smile, seeing how much Randy wanted to do this.

Randy finished and handed it delicately back to Johnny. Johnny folded it and placed it in his wallet.

“Now! I will de-vour this!” Randy dumped the extra cup of hollandaise sauce all over his meal, drowning the whole plate in a creamy yellow pool as he took a cheerful sip of his apricot mimosa from his tall flute glass. He was enjoying his celebration to the fullest.