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Show 45. Garth waved, but didn't get up from his desk. "I'm zonked. How about you?" "Likewise," JD grinned and moved out with the crowd. Half an hour later, after taking Stephanie home and grabbing milk and a peanut butter sandwich, JD signed in at the Holiday Inn Restaurant just off the freeway outside town. He hated his job, but it had been the only one available. His boss, a tall, cranky penny-pincher named Bob Gillispie, had had hinted that he might get promoted to maintenance if he "worked out" in the dining room. He guessed he'd be on probation forever because he was still clearing tables after six months on the job. Now, shortly before they opened for the dinner trade, he had plenty to do. JD got into a clean blue jacket that the kitchen boys wore and went on into the dining room to check the waitress* station for ice and serving utensils. Sylvie threw him a smile across the room where she was setting tables. She bent toward him, sweeping across the table to straighten the cloth, presumably treating him to a birds' eye view of her cleavage. She's always throwing it around, JD smiled in spite of himself. He wondered why she didn't put more of a premium on what she had. Mr. Gillispie came into the room before they had any chance at conversation. He grunted, straightened a fork, nodded at JD and left again. Sylvie made a face at his back and motioned for JD to come over. "Is it true, what I heard about you today?" she asked, batting her false eyelashes at him. "What'd you hear?" He was expecting one of her dirty jokes. She heard and overheard more conversations than the C.I.A. But in spite of her "frumpery," as his mother called it, Sylvie was everybody's favorite. She had a way with kids and little old ladies. Even men known to be light tippers left bills under their plates for Sylvie. She edged close to him. "I heard you went out star-gazing and got your eyes full." "Shit" JD said under his breath. He turned on his heel and |
