Serge splashed more water. “I think she likes me.”
Coleman went to a urinal. “How on earth are we going to pay for dinner?”
“Like this.” Serge splashed water on his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
Serge kept splashing water until he was drenched head to foot. “Taking care of the bill.”
They left the rest room. Serge pulled an out-of-order sign from his waistband and hung it on the men’s room doorknob. “Coleman, go keep the women company. I’ll just be a minute.”
People cleared a wide path as Serge dripped his way to the maître d’ stand. “Call the manager!”
A man in a well-fitting suit arrived. He pulled up short at the sight of Serge. “What the—?”
“You need to turn off all the water in this place.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“One of your customers. I was just in the men’s room. You got a main break…. What are you looking at? You have to shut the water off right now!”
“We can’t shut the water off. This is our biggest night….”
“We’re still talking. You’ve got three minutes tops before she starts flooding, which means backed-up sewage….”
People in line looked at each other and murmured.
“Lower your voice,” said the manager. He waved one of the waiters over. “Shut off the water. The valve is by the main loading door. The white one. There should be a wrench leaning against the wall…. What are you waiting for?” The waiter ran off.
“I’m a plumber,” said Serge. “I mean if you have your own, I perfectly understand. But it’s pretty straightforward. I got some tools out in the car. Can have you back up in five minutes.”
The man gave Serge a look like someone was trying to screw him. “And what exactly will this cost me?”
“Cost you? Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of… well, okay. I’ve just had a wonderful evening here with my friends. Going to tell everyone I know about this place. Yes, sir, best food in all the Keys! Why don’t you just comp our meals and we’ll call it even?”
“That’s it?”
“Throw in fifty for our waiter. He was incredible. Don’t let anyone steal him from you.”
“Deal.”
“Be right back.”
Serge ran out of the restaurant and returned with tools. He went in the rest room and slouched against the door, staring at his watch. Five minutes later, he emerged and removed the out-of-order sign.
The manager rushed up. “So?”
“Good as new!” Serge headed back to the table.
“What the hell happened to you?” said Brenda. “You’re soaked.”
“Gave ’em a hand with a plumbing problem.”
“He’s always helping people,” said Coleman.
Serge held Molly’s chair again as they got up. Brenda started getting up, too, but misjudged a number of things and took three off-balance steps backward before landing on her butt like a child in a playpen. “Whoa! Those pineapples!…”
“I do it all the time,” said Coleman. “Let me help you.”
They worked their way toward the front door, the manager shaking Serge’s hand hard as they went by. “Thank you so much. Please come back…”
They passed the packed lounge, newcomers waiting with cocktails and nonblinking coasters. Four men in yachting jackets were halfway in the bag. Troy Bradenton buttonholed a passing waitress. “Hey, baby, ever kissed a rabbit between the ears?” He stood and turned his pockets inside out. The woman stormed off. The salesmen cracked up. One of them noticed something going by the lounge’s entrance.
“Look at that soaking-wet asshole!”
“What’s
Serge kept walking.
“And get a load of his date! Did dork school just get out?”
Serge froze. Hair stood up on his neck. He slowly turned to face the roofing salesmen.
The quartet got off their stools to form a united front. Troy stepped forward. “What are you going to do about it, drip on us?” He looked back and smirked at the others.
Molly was standing behind Serge. He couldn’t see her, but he could sense her discomfort like static electricity. He bit his lip and resumed walking out of the restaurant.
“That’s right,” yelled Troy. “Run away, tough guy!”
They got to the parking lot, and Serge called Coleman aside. “I need you to do something for me….”
There was a tiki bar on a landing down by the water. Serge asked the women if they wouldn’t mind waiting.
“What is it now?” said Brenda.
“I forgot to explain some plumbing things. And Coleman has to help. We’ll just be a minute.”
Brenda stumbled down the staggered terrace of railroad ties. “You said you’d just be a minute last time.” She slipped on the edge of a step and went down, then popped up and wiped her kneecaps. “I meant to do that…. Come on, Molly, let’s get a drink.” Molly followed, looking back over her shoulder. Coleman was walking toward the restaurant’s entrance, but Serge had split up and was sneaking around the back side.
TROY BRADENTON CALLED over a waitress. “Do you have a mirror in your pocket?”
“Why?”
“Because I can see myself in your pants! Ha, ha, ha…”
They noticed Coleman standing in front of them.
“Look, it’s one of Jerry’s kids!” said Troy. “The telethon’s over, beat it!”
“I’m not sure,” said Coleman, “but I think one of you dropped a whole bunch of money in the parking lot.”
“What are you talking about?”
