Foxy Valentine's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

By morning, Foxy had a problem she couldn't charm away. She'd never spoken to the waitress. She knew nothing about her. You can't sell a stranger on a date with a silent old man when you don't know one thing the woman likes. So Foxy changed her plan. Don't fix the pitch. Fix the man. "We give Mr. Boo-Thang a makeover," she told Pinky. "Clean him up. Give him something to walk in with." Pinky squealed and dug through a bag of her own things. Charm was Pinky's game, but glitter was her weapon. She sat the old man in a dusty chair. He glared with pale eyes and gripped the armrests like they might run. "Hold still," Pinky said. She went to work. Foxy turned to bolt the door, and by the time she looked back, Pinky had gone too far. She'd painted his lips red. She'd pinned a curly wig on him and zipped him into a sparkling dress. Mr. Boo-Thang stood and saw himself in the cracked window glass. His face went dark. "Get it off me," he hissed. "I look like a fool." "You look like nobody else in Funkytown," Foxy said. She stepped close. "Listen. You've watched her three years and said nothing. Walking in normal got you nothing. So walk in as somebody she can't ignore. Make her smile first. Worry about the rest later." He stared at the floor a long time. Then he touched the wig, straightened it, and nodded once. They crossed to the coffee shop at noon. Foxy and Pinky hung back by the window. Mr. Boo-Thang shuffled to the counter in the dress, cheeks red, hands shaking. The waitress looked up. This was Eileen, the woman he'd loved from across the street without a word for three years. She had curly red hair and a white apron, and her smile came easy for everybody but him. She saw the old man in the wig and the sparkles, and she froze. Then she laughed. Not a mean laugh. A warm, surprised one, both hands on the counter. "Well, aren't you a sight," Eileen said. "You've been staring through that window a long time, honey. Took a dress to get you in the door?" Mr. Boo-Thang's mouth worked. "I wanted you to see me," he said. "I see you fine." She poured him a coffee he hadn't ordered. "Sit. Tell me your name." He sat. They talked. Foxy watched the old man's shoulders drop for the first time. When Eileen laughed again, she wrote something on a napkin and pushed it across. A time. A yes. Back in the ballroom, Mr. Boo-Thang held the napkin like it was gold. He looked up at the disco ball chained to his ceiling. Then he reached for the rusty crank. "Take it," he said. "It's yours." Foxy caught the ball in both arms. Heavy, cold, glinting. She finally had it. Now she had to carry it out past Bad Mamma Jamma's men, still waiting on the street.