Chapter 12

June 13, 1997, 11:58 am

He was hoping she was working today, and as Charley approached the window of Top's Charbroiled Hamburgers in Pico Rivera he was rewarded with his wish. The young Hispanic woman behind the window smiled as he approached the window, and Charley felt his stomach flutter as her eyes lit upon him. “How ya doing today?” she asked, chewing a wad of gum.

“Great,” he said, trying not to make it so obvious that he was blushing. Jesus Christ, he was a grown man! Why did he still find himself so tongue-tied around beautiful women? “How about yourself?"

“Same ol’ same ‘ol,” she answered. She had a pronounced barrio accent. “You know how it is."

“You got that right."

“So whatcha gonna have today? The usual?"

“I think I'll forgo the usual and order one of your Caesar salads with a large coke."

The girl raised an eyebrow and appeared to appraise him from behind the counter.

“Gee, honey, you trying to go on a diet or somethin'? Our burgers ain't good enough for you?"

Charley felt himself blush again, but came to his senses as she laughed heartily.

He smiled, the nervous twinge that had started to rise at her answer evaporating. She was just joking. Carmen Aguirre was always kidding around with him.

He had been eating at Top's Charbroiled Burgers for the past three months now, ever since Carmen Aguirre started working behind the counter as a cashier. She was simply the most gorgeous woman Charley had ever met: she stood about five foot four, had a curvy figure, and a buxom chest. She favored tasteful clothing that was sexy and tasteful. Today she was dressed in faded Levi's blue jeans that clung to her legs and thighs and a red long sleeved shirt pulled up and tied at the waist showing off her tan belly, the neckline showing a swell of bosom. Carmen's hair was dark brown and shoulder length, her eyes brown, her nose small, cheekbones high. Her mouth was complimented by full lips. In short, Carmen Aguirre was a goddess.

He got the impression at times that Carmen knew he had a crush on her. He could tell by the way she talked to him, the way she would flirt with him a little as he ate at one of the tables—sometimes she would join him on a break while he ate—or the way she joked around with him. Women in general didn't joke around with him. He didn't know why. He supposed he might be a turn-off for many women. It was painful to admit, but he could see why some women would find him repulsive: he was quiet, kept to himself, did his work quickly and thoroughly, and didn't draw much attention to himself. There was his physical appearance, too, which probably didn't help much. But the clincher was most likely his sense of humor and personality, which he always tried to rein in. When conversation at work turned to personal things, Charley was always more than eager to pipe in his opinions or share his interest in reading and films. In fact, it was probably his vast knowledge of various film and literary trivia that turned a lot of women off, as well as finding out that he still lived at home with his mother. Most people referred to people like Charley as a Mama's boy.

But I'm not a Mama's boy, he thought. I'm not, and I'll show them.

“Well?"

Carmen's voice snapped Charley back to the present and he looked at her, noting that she was waiting for him with hands on hips. Her big brown eyes had that well, what are you waiting for? look. Charley tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, I guess I am on a diet,” he said.

“That's better."

“Why do you want to know?"

“Why wouldn't I?” she asked, writing his order down on a pad and tearing it off.

She handed it to one of the cooks and turned back to him. “After all, you're one of my favorite customers. Here at Top's we show concern for our customers."

“That's nice to know,” Charley said, smiling. He was feeling better now.

Carmen handed him a ticket stub. “You're number eighty-four. I'll get your coke."

Charley moved aside as Carmen went to the coke machine to get his drink. The main lunch rush had already put in their orders and most of them were seated at the dozen tables inside the fast food restaurant. Charley knew that another bigger rush would probably be descending on the little eating establishment in the next fifteen minutes when the workforce of Donnelly, which was across the street, took their lunch break. He turned back to the counter just as Carmen approached with his coke. She smiled. “You eating here?"

“Yeah,” he said.

“Have anything planned for the weekend?” She asked. “Going to party?"

“Oh, I don't know,” he said. “We'll see. What about you?"

“Don't know yet. Try to see what's going down, I guess."

“What do you normally like to do on weekends?"

She shrugged. “The usual. Hang out with my girlfriends, go to parties, go dancing.

Sometimes go to movies."

“Ah, you like movies.” Say the word “movies” and Charley's interest piqued.

“What kind of movies do you like?"

Carmen laughed. “You're gonna laugh, but the kind of movies I like are not the kind of movies girls usually like."

“I won't laugh,” Charley said, grinning wide. “Promise."

She seemed to consider this, her brown eyes searching his for the truth to this answer. He held her gaze, his heart beating. “Okay,” she said. “I'll tell you. But you're not going to believe it."

“If you tell me the kind of movies you like, I'll tell you the kind of movies I like,”

Charley said, smiling.

“Okay.” Carmen smiled, leaning over the counter. “I like the shoot-em-up kind of movies. The kind where there are a lot of car chases that end in explosions and a lot of car crashes and a lot of high powered gun-fire happening throughout the movie where bullets tear everything apart, and where people get killed left and right. I like the kind of movies that pick up fast and don't let up, the kind where the action goes faster and faster until the end. I like movies that are filled with suspense, that keep me on the edge of my seat, but that are also funny and make me laugh, as well as cringe in fear and suspense. I like movies where the bad guys are going to do something really horrible, like blow up the world or kill a lot of people or ... something really bad, you know? And then the good guy, somebody like Bruce Willis or Arnold Shwarzenegger, comes in and saves the day but in the meantime the movie is filled with everything I just described."

“And no love scenes?” Charley asked, grinning.

Carmen laughed. “Well, maybe one. There has to be a beautiful girl in the movie who is the hero's love interest. Isn't that the recipe for successful movies nowadays? Sex and violence?"

“I suppose it is,” Charley said.

“So what kind of movies do you like?” Carmen asked. She was still leaning over the counter, eager to engage him in conversation.

“The same kinds as you,” Charley said. “And other kinds."

“Oh, other kinds!” She raised her eyebrows, her tone of voice flirtatious. Charley almost blushed again. “What other kinds of movies?"

Charley shifted his feet and was about to answer when his number was called.

Carmen got his order and set it in front of him. She smiled at him, her big brown eyes hinting that she was eager to perhaps keep the conversation going. “Well, here's your order. I should get back to work. Maybe you can tell me what kind of movies you like next time."

“Sure,” Charley said, taking the tray from her. Then before he could stop himself, he said it: “Maybe we can go to a movie together someday."

There. He had said it. It had come out so naturally that he didn't even have time to stop it, but now that it was out he couldn't very well reel it in. He bit his tongue, trying hard not to wince as he managed a weak smile. Carmen's facial expressions didn't change, but the chuckle that welled from her sounded like it was tinged with a sense of superiority, as if to say me go out with you? Not on your life, pal.

Instead, all she said was “Maybe. It might be fun."

But the tone of her voice suggested otherwise.

Charley smiled weakly and took his tray to one of the rear tables. His hands were shaking so badly by the time he reached the table that he almost dropped his tray. He sank down into the booth and forced himself to look down at his food. His hands were shaking and he could feel himself growing flush with embarrassment. Why did I ask her out like that? Why don't I ever think before opening my big, fat mouth? He hadn't meant to blurt that out the way he had, and now that it had happened he wished he could just crawl into a hole and die. To think that her seemingly kind attitude toward him bespoke genuine interest in him was absurd. She was too good for him—she was beautiful, young, probably had scores of attention of many young men who were more sure of themselves and knew how to handle themselves around women. Charley wouldn't stand up to a normal man by a long shot. So why did he suddenly think he had a shot at going out with such a beautiful woman as Carmen?

He opened the plastic container that held his salad and started eating. He avoided looking at the front counter. Already the sounds of voices and motion from the front was telling him that more people had arrived to have lunch at Top's, and Carmen was probably taking orders. The more he tried to put Carmen out of his mind and concentrate on his lunch, the more her laughter rose in his mind; the way she had responded when he asked her to a movie had cut into him like a knife. The tone of voice she had used when she answered him was like all the others: she no doubt saw him as a sad, pathetic little man who was beneath her. And that made him angry. It was always this way. Women always found him repulsive, no matter how nice he was or how much he tried to be helpful and respectful. It just wasn't fair. What did he ever do to deserve this?

As he ate the scenarios crept into his mind. He pictured himself in his room with Carmen. She was naked and he was fucking her as she screamed and begged for mercy.

The fantasy unwound in his mind as he ate silently.

Carmen trembling before him as he advanced toward her. Begging for mercy.

Charley shifted in his seat as he ate. He had a raging hard-on.

As much as he hated himself for harboring these feelings towards women, despite deep-down only wanting Carmen to like him and want him as a real man, Charley went home that night harboring dark thoughts.