MiniNaNoWriMo: ficlet 7
George parked his car behind the shop and grabbed the bag out of the back seat. His wife had asked him to stop by at noon to bring lunch for their granddaughter. He hadn’t wanted to, of course, knowing how dreadful the lunches that Florence put together for him were. No way should he curse his baby girl to have to eat that horrible stuff.
Apparently the joke was on him though, when he opened up the bag for Jessica to see what sort of swill she’d been subjected to, he was shocked to discover a fresh salad, a piece of apple pie and a beautiful sandwich, piled high with roast beef. He though about his own soggy ham and cheese, bruised apple and carrot sticks. That was it! He was gonna fire Florence for once and for all.
He unlocked the back door and walked through the back room. He put her lunch on the table and hung his coat over the back of a chair.
“Afternoon Sir,” said one of his workers with a polite nod. He couldn’t remember her name, Martha or Marta or Margie or something? Whatever, he figured not knowing her name was a good thing, meant she hadn’t had any discipline problems for him to discuss with her.
He walked onward to the door that separated the equipment room from the storefront. He could her the murmur of voices as she dealt with a customer. Carefully he slid the door back, listening to see how she handled things. She giggled, and he frowned. He snuck a peek around the corner.
Apparently, he had arrived at just the right moment. She was leaning on the counter, twirling her long black hair around a finger. She was wearing a round necked shirt that showed off her dark skin and her, ahem, womanly charms. He cleared his throat and stepped through the door.
“Jessica, it’s time for your break now,” he announced.
“I’ll just finish up with this customer and then I’ll go, okay Grandpa?” she replied.
“Come come,” he insisted. “I’ll take over here. You just go take your break.”
She huffed, put her pen down, and turned to him, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Hey,” she greeted, embracing him in a hug. “You be nice, okay?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “I’m always nice,” he replied.
She turned to wave at the boy standing at the counter. “Just ignore him,” she instructed. “He’s just a grumpy old man,” she laughed, disappearing into the back.
George laughed too, waiting until she was out of sight, when he stopped chuckling abruptly and turned to the young man with a sour expression.
“How can I help you?” he asked. The boy looked back at him, slightly intimidated. Exactly how George liked it.
“Well, I uh, I uh, I, I, just brought a couple shirts,” stuttered the boy. George stared at him, not saying anything. “To, you know, be dry-cleaned.”
“What’s wrong with them?” George asked.
“They’ve got some weird stains on them,” the boy answered, pointing to the black smears on the garments.
“What made this mark?” George asked, pointing to one of the spots.
“I’m not sure,” the boy replied. He stood there uncomfortably for a moment before adding, “Sir.”
“Is it motor oil, or auto grease perhaps?”
“I don’t think so sir, I wasn’t near a car.”
“Hmmm,” George said thoughtfully, peering at the stain. He touched it with his finger. It felt greasy, but the consistency was wrong for oil. It felt like petroleum jelly maybe? He dropped the fabric from his hands and peered up at the boy with a disgusted look.
“This better not be some perverted sort of something that gets used in some sort of depraved deviant sexual acts, is it boy?”
The young man’s eyes widened comically. “No, no sir. Definitely not.”
“Mmmhmmm,” George responded, eyeing the kid skeptically.
At that moment Jessica reappeared from the back room, holding out a cell phone. “It’s for you Grandpa, it’s Grandma calling.”
George sighed and snatched the phone from her. “Weezie?” he answered, glaring at the customer before being pushed into the back by his granddaughter.
“I’m so sorry about that,” she smiled. “He’s just being protective.”
“Protective, of what?” he asked.
“He freaks out whenever I talk to white guys. He feels like he needs to run them all off,” she explained.
“That’s a little old-fashioned, isn’t it?”
“And stupid too,” she laughed. “My other grandpa is white. I try to tell him is a little late to be worried about ‘mixing the races’, but he never listens. He means well though.”
“I hope so.”
“Two of his closest friends are white. He just likes to complain,” she rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure he overcame a lot of prejudice in his life,” the boy offered.
“He did work hard to get where he is. He started out working at a drycleaner’s, and now he owns seven Jefferson’s Cleaners. He has a fancy apartment in Manhattan, a live-in maid,” she responded. “And of course, he’s got the ego to match. Nothing’s good enough for his little girl.”
“He’s family,” the boy replied. “They’re supposed to drive you crazy.”
“I guess.”
“So, it’ll still be ready after 2:30, like you said before?”
“Yep,” she smiled, handing him his ticket. “Did he try the pervert line on you?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t feel bad, it’s kind of a compliment,” she laughed.
“How’s that?”
“He only pulls that one out on the guys he thinks are handsome enough that I’d consider dating them,” she flirted. “He won’t be here when you come back, in case you were scared.”
“Good to know,” he said, blushing a little as he left the shop. He walked over to an old black car and got in to the passenger seat.
~@~
“What took you so long?” Dean asked.
“You’re not going to believe it,” Sam answered. “The guy was nuts. Suggesting the stain was from ‘some sort of depraved deviant sexual act’ and then he looked at me like I was some sort of pervert.”
“Depraved and deviant sexual acts huh?” Dean snorted. “He got all that from a stain?”
“Maybe thought it was some sort of lubricant or something, which lead him to conclude I was into some kinky sex of some kind.”
“That’s hilarious,” Dean chuckled. “My brother: the sexual deviant. Ha!”
“Shut up! Maybe you’re used to people treating you like some sort of lecherous pervert, but I’m not,” Sam cried indignantly.
“I don’t know what lecherous means, but if it has anything to do with having lots of really good, un-repressed sex? Guilty as charged,” Dean answered, starting the car.
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled on his seatbelt. “It’ll be ready for pick-up in three hours.”
“Wanna go grab a bite to eat then? Mr. Depraved Deviant?” Dean teased.
“You know what, next time we get ectoplasm on our stuff, you’re going to take it in to the cleaners and explain what it is, okay?”
Character from a TV Show: Sam was hassled and helped by the frequently bigoted George Jefferson and his granddaughter Jessica, as played by Sherman Helmsely on “The Jefferson’s.” Jessica was the name of the grandchild on the show, but she was just a wee ‘un on the series. Here I made her a twenty-something. ‘Weezie’ was Louise, his wife, and Florence was the housekeeper who fought with George at every opportunity and ignored him when she could.
Words: 1172