A/N: We're finally hitting script! The first part of the chapter (which is a prose "plus" version of the first scene w/ Priestly in it) is mostly to demonstrate that we've hit "movie". After that, there may be casual reference to other movie events mixed into original events. I don't own the portions which are script and I am, in fact, cringing at using/repeating part of the script. No infringement desired or intended!
September 27, 2006
Priestly was grouchy. He was late, first of all, which was happening fairly often in this new semester. He blamed it entirely on the fact that the only parking he could ever find was at one end of the campus and his classes were on the other. On top of that, he'd gotten a 'C' on his Trig test. Math was never his strong point, but the worst he'd ever gotten in high school was a 'B'. These days he was having to really, really work to maintain his 3.86 GPA.
As he pulled into the dead end area behind the grill, however, his mood lifted a little. Since Joe's departure and Tish's arrival, he completely enjoyed work, even if it was…work.
Yanking open the front door, he called out,
"Everybody relax!"
Peeling off his sunglasses, he spontaneously broke into a flailing sort of dance. As suddenly as he started, he stopped. "I'm here," he announced with a satisfied smirk, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag so it didn't slide off his shoulder.
Tish looked over at him and mocked, "Oh, and it's so close to almost on time."
He moved to stand in front of her. "Well, c'mon…once I start showing up on time, you'll expect it every day." He gave her a cheesy, forced grin.
Tish sneered back at him, shrugging. Priestly glanced over at the guy she'd been waiting on on the other side of the register counter. Tipping his chin at the guy, he said,
"'S'up?"
The guy nodded, giving him one of those all too familiar "I'm laughing at you on the inside" once overs. Priestly turned away with an exasperated look and made his way behind the counter as Tish said softly,
"Don't pay attention to him…"
"Okay," he said loudly enough so he knew she could hear him. "Today's topic of conversation," he continued, pointing toward the register counter, "clueless men and the women who use them for gratification."
He kept going toward the back room so he could stow his bag and grab an apron. Suddenly, he stopped short, noticing a girl with strawberry blonde hair half covered by a pink bandana. She was standing behind the counter next to Jen. Puzzled, he tilted his head at her.
"Who're you?"
She looked up at him. "Piper," she answered.
He threw up his hands. "Piper," he repeated, looking her up and down. "What're you doing here, Piper?"
Slowly, as if uncertain of the correct answer, she said, "I…work here."
Glancing at Jen, he asked, "Why wasn't I notified?" And then louder, indignantly, he said, "I wasn't notified!"
"Hey, Priestly," Trucker said, stepping out of the back, "we hired someone."
"Thank you," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, we need, like, a bulletin board or staff email or somethin'," he griped.
"You know, Priestly," Jen added with a sympathetic face, "Piper thinks Elvis is dead."
Turning to Trucker, he whined, "Really? Now you're hiring people who fail the interview?" Trucker smirked as he shook out his apron with a deep sigh. "C'mon, man!"
"…I don't know," Tish was saying when he turned his attention her way. "You're cute and everything, but…"
"But what?" the guy at the register said. "C'mon, Tish," he pleaded.
Tish lowered her voice, but Priestly heard her, anyway. Hell, he could recite this next part verbatim if asked to do so. "It's just…"
He turned back toward Jen, tying his apron, and muttered, "Here it comes…"
Tish shot him a dirty look before turning back to register boy. She lowered her voice even more. "I don't really like sex…"
"What?!" register boy asked disbelievingly.
Priestly rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh.
"How can you not like–?"
"I've never had a…you know," Tish said coyly. She deserved a fucking Oscar. Even he almost bought her bashful, shy-girl routine and he'd heard it at least a dozen times.
Priestly rolled his head toward them and gave register boy a look that said, "Jesus, dude, really? You're buying this?!" It went unnoticed.
"Whoa!" Register boy exclaimed, his eyebrows lifting. "Never?"
Priestly was torn between feeling sorry for the idiot and annoyed by him. He didn't have to look to know Tish was shaking her head pitifully, because the guy answered,
"Huh. Well, obviously you've never been with the right guy." And then the guy pointed at himself with both thumbs and mouthed, "Me."
Priestly shook his head. Never mind. Any sympathy he felt just got coated in a layer of hot, gooey cheese. Behind him, Piper asked incredulously,
"My God, does that really work?"
Jen's voice reflected his own jaded incredulity. "Every time," she replied under her breath.
"Are you kidding me?" Priestly asked, turning toward them. "It's man's greatest challenge."
"Tish is the scorpion queen," Jen informed Piper.
"See you tonight!" Tish called as register boy ducked out of the diner.
Tish turned to face them with a satisfied sigh. Priestly balled up a sub wrapper.
"Well," he said, "another comrade used and discarded, huh, Tish?" He tossed the wrapper in her direction. "You know, I've gotta be honest with you, Tish," he said as she watched the wrapper fall short, "I've never really been comfortable watching you do that to men. There should be some kind of, like, warning sign posted."
"If men are that easy to manipulate, they deserve to be taken advantage of," she shrugged and turned her back on him.
"I'm easy to manipulate," he replied, his arms outstretched. "Why don't women take advantage of me?"
Tish turned back to him with a weary look. "I think we can all guess the answer to that," she said, turning around again after giving a pointed look to his Mohawk.
He glanced up at it forlornly as Jen and Piper giggled. He turned back to the grill. Really? What did his hair have to do with anything? Was that why she mostly treated him like an annoying little brother? Over hair? Priestly shook his head. Figured. She seemed to be mostly attracted to dark haired guys. Most of the ones she flirted with had that boy next door look…the same one he'd shed off like dead skin three years ago.
He thought about Tish's comment for most of the afternoon as he watched her flirt with various guys. Sure enough, they were all clean cut All American types. All of them except one had dark hair, and they all dressed like Surfer Ken. He sighed and finished up the latest round of Maui Jim specials for an internet order and wondered if Tish would be interested in him if he still looked like Boaz.
He sighed as the answer persisted. Probably.
October 19, 2006
Priestly rolled his eyes as Tish made a date with another hapless victim.
"See you tonight?" she asked. "Around nine-thirty?"
Hapless Victim grinned and nodded. She slid his sandwich to him across the counter suggestively. He winked at her and left, lifting a hand as a goodbye without looking back. She smirked as she caught Priestly's dark look. Smiling at him in an exaggeratedly sweet way, she headed out to the dining room to start cleaning the tables.
Priestly turned his attention to Piper. The mural she was preparing to paint on the back wall was roughed out in pencil. From where he was standing, he couldn't make it all out, but she was starting to darken in the scene now. The next step, she said, would be base paint.
"Hey, Piper..." he said. When she glanced at him he asked, "What's up with the Millers?" Piper had come clean about her second reason for being in Santa Cruz. She was going to the Art Institute, but she'd chosen to go there because she thought the baby she'd given up for adoption was living in town. She'd begun watching them, riding her bike past their house and trying to gather enough courage to introduce herself somehow.
She frowned. "No." She looked at each of them in turn, searching for words. "I'm still just stalking them."
None of them knew how to respond to that. Piper saved them the trouble and turned back to the mural.
Priestly checked his watch. Almost closing. Just another half hour. Good. He had to study if he wanted to pass his Trig test tomorrow. The laptop beeped once, signaling an order. He glanced back at Jen, waiting, spatula in hand.
"A 6-inch Max Meat, cold, and an 8-inch Sally, grilled. Nothing to hold or substitute." she said.
Nodding, he turned around and dropped the turkey on the grill and started working on the cold sub. He heard the door open behind them.
"Hello, everyone," Zo greeted. "Trucker, could I borrow your phone book? Mine seems to have walked away."
"What's up?" Trucker said, plopping it on the register counter. He was counting the cash drawer back to the $300.00 in bills and coins they used to open up the shop with. Priestly watched him place the rest into a bank bag with the daily sales printout tape from the register.
"Well, I've got a blocked toilet. I need a plumber."
"I've got a snake," Trucker said, "Let me take a look before you call someone."
Zo rewarded him with her gentle smile and a, "Thank you, Trucker."
He grabbed the bank bag and disappeared into the back room to put it in the safe. When he returned, the bank bag was gone and in its place was a plumber's snake. In the other hand, he held his tool box. Priestly grinned after him as Trucker told them he'd be back in a few minutes and headed across the street with Zo.
Tish swept past Priestly and started cleaning the front counter, apparently eager to take care of her share of the closing tasks so she could get out of there and hook up with Mr. Hapless Victim. Priestly almost laughed as he finished up the internet order and plopped the wrapped sandwiches on her freshly wiped counter. It didn't do the counter any harm, of course, but it rankled her. Snapping her bar towel at him, she said,
"Don't be a jerk. Just because you have no love life, doesn't mean you should get in the way of mine."
He rolled his eyes. "I'd hardly call that a love life," he snorted. "I'd call that…heat," he finished. Something flashed in her eyes. He swallowed. Maybe he'd gone too far. If he wasn't mistaken or crazy, he might think he'd hurt her feelings. Before he could say anything to her, though, the door swung open and the owner of the two freshly wrapped subs came in.
Priestly went over to the register and punched in the totals as the guy handed Jen his money. In turn, she handed it to Priestly. He was already counting out the change. "Dollar eight-six, man," he said, passing it to the guy, who balanced the subs in one hand, nodded, and shoved the change in the pocket of his jeans.
"You guys have a good night," the guy said, out the door as quickly as he'd come in, leaving the grill empty again except for its employees.
Or not, Priestly thought as he saw someone push the door open out of the corner of his eye.
"Everything in the register!"
Priestly looked up at the figure he'd only glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Tall but hollowed out, the guy's eyes were wild, his hair unkempt. He had the look of a meth addict…the pits and ruts in his face that indicated he was picking at crank bugs, the twitches, the sweating. And, of course, he held a gun in his shaking right hand.
"You hear me, motherfucker?!" the guy shouted. "Open the fucking register!"
Priestly held his hands up and glanced around. Jen was frozen at the laptop, watching him. Piper, still at the mural, watched with wide eyes, too. He didn't dare turn around to look at Tish. He stabbed buttons on the register, entering a fake sale which was the only way the drawer would open. He fumbled, hit the wrong button. The guy made a frustrated noise that made Priestly jump.
"Take it easy, man," he said as soothingly as he knew how, "I'm getting it."
"Get it faster or I'm gonna blow a fucking hole in your fucked up head!"
Priestly started over, but the guy had apparently had enough of waiting on him to get it right.
"You!" he cried, pointing the gun at Tish. Priestly risked a glance at her and watched her jump. "You fucking do it since freak boy can't!"
Tish slowly crept over to the register. Priestly stepped toward the front counter to make room for her, putting himself between Tish and the gun. He felt her tremble a little as she carefully poked the correct buttons and the drawer popped open with a click. Priestly glanced up and noticed Trucker on his way back across the street.
Look up, he silently begged. Trucker, look up. As if by a miracle or telepathy, Trucker's eyes lifted and the surfer's gaze locked on Priestly's. Priestly gave his head a little shake and mouthed the word, "No."
Trucker glanced over. Priestly saw the recognition wash over him. The guy was too jumpy, though, too wired. He noticed something was off, and then he glanced out and noticed Trucker frozen in the middle of the street, snake in one hand, tool box in the other. Priestly lunged downward with Tish as the first bullet thumped into the register counter. He flinched as the second shattered the old parrot statue that rested near the phone and sent porcelain shards raining down on him and Tish. He curled himself over her and felt the little bits of shrapnel pelt his back and bounce into and off of his spiky hair.
The guy was in the drawer now, grabbing cash. "Where's the rest?!" he shouted. "This can't be it! Where's the fucking rest?!"
Priestly looked up at him. His mouth dry as the Sahara, he choked out the word, "Safe…"
"Open it!" the guy demanded, waving the gun before using it to point at him.
His voice shook as he joked feebly, "L-Look at me, man. If you were my boss, would you give me the code to your safe?"
It was the one time he was grateful that people considered him a freak. The guy apparently agreed with them, because he actually appeared to decide Priestly had a point. But his impatience and his strung out greed swung him right back to pissed off and he shot at them again. The guy either had zero aim or was intentionally missing just to rattle them, because this time the giant pickle jar exploded just over Priestly's head, showering glass and pickles and juice down on him and Tish.
"Fuck!" the guy swore before spontaneously bolting from the shop, heading down 6th toward Mesa.
Seconds later, Trucker burst in, calling, "Everybody ok?"
Priestly glanced across at Jen. White faced and shaking, she nodded, rising hesitantly and peeking out the front door. Trucker moved back to it and turned the lock, flipping the sign over before turning back toward them. Piper dashed across the room, wide-eyed. She and Jen reached for each other, seeking comfort. Priestly looked at Tish and realized he still had his hand on her back. She was shaking, her face slack from shock. He reached down and rubbed his thumb over a shallow scrape on her arm before pulling her to her feet.
"Parrot, or pickle jar?" he asked, trying to ease the tension. She just blinked up at him. "You're bleeding, Tish," he explained, grabbing a paper napkin from the shelf above the cold station. He covered the scrape with the napkin, closing his hand over it. She tugged her arm free and put her own hand over it.
"You're bleeding, too," Jen told him, making a swiping motion over her cheek.
He slid his fingers across his face. They came away streaked with red. He hadn't felt a thing, but now he recognized the sting. Grabbing his own napkin, he angled his head to catch a glimpse in the chromed edge of the shelf. It wasn't bad, just a vertical slash of red about an inch and a half long right over his cheekbone. Like Tish's arm, it was just a scratch.
Seeing that they were all breathing and still reasonably intact, Trucker grabbed the phone and called for the police. Priestly eased past the girls and went into the back for some clean towels and the mop. He didn't know what else to do besides clean up, but when he came out to start on it, Trucker shook his head.
"The police should probably see it first," he said, ushering them out into the dining room. "Everybody sit down."
The girls sat on one of the booth benches at the front. Priestly turned a chair backwards and sat facing the window, watching for anyone suspicious. He still felt uneasy, like someone was going to jump out at any second. Trucker took the chair beside his. But when he saw Jen and Piper still huddled together, both wiping silent tears from their cheeks, he said,
"Scoot over, Angels."
They separated, and Trucker sat in the space between them, draping an arm over each of them, cuddling them against him. Papa Trucker, Priestly thought dully. He glanced at Tish. She was hugging herself until Piper reached across and gestured at her. She scooted closer to Piper, who slung her arm around Tish's shoulder. Priestly randomly thought he was the only one not getting any love.
They sat there silently, thinking their own thoughts for a few long minutes, and then a shadow at the door had him going rigid.
"It's just the fuzz," Trucker said quietly, lifting his arms off the girls.
Priestly crossed the room in two strides and unlocked the door for the two uniformed officers. Both ignored him and looked to Trucker for an explanation, instead. Jen offered what she'd seen. Only then did the officers take an interest in Priestly.
"Happened just like she said. Guy came in, demanded everything in the register. When I didn't get it open fast enough, he told Tish to do it. I saw Trucker coming across the street and figured if he came in just then the guy would put a bullet in him, so I tried to signal him not to come in. Trucker caught on, but so did the robber. He hit the register desk, then he killed the parrot statue, and then he asked me to open the safe. I told him I didn't know the combination, and he shot the pickle jar and ran out." Priestly shrugged.
"What did he look like?" the cop asked.
"Tall, skinny, scabby face, dark clothes, dark hair, light colored eyes. I'm not sure if they were blue or grey," Priestly answered. "Twitchy," he added. "I think he had crank bugs."
"You think he was on meth?" the cop clarified.
"He had all the signs," Priestly agreed.
The two cops looked at each other. Something passed between them. One of them ducked outside and returned with a camera and began taking photos of the register area and the edge of the cold station and the little desk under the phone. The other one asked Tish if she was ok, if she needed medical attention.
"No, I'm fine," Tish smiled. The cop smiled back. It was all Priestly could do not to groan.
Really? He thought. You're going to flirt now?
"What about you?" the cop asked as if noticing the cut on his cheek for the first time.
He shook his head wordlessly.
Once the cops left, he started picking up the broken glass and slimy pickles with a broom and dustpan. The smell of vinegar was starting to make him feel nauseous. He couldn't wait to go home and shower it off. He might have to burn his clothes.
It was after eleven when they filtered out the back door together. Priestly, Tish, and Trucker walked Jen to her car after Trucker tucked Piper's bike into his van and Piper herself into the passenger seat. Priestly looked at Tish. "Need a ride?"
She looked toward the street, toward the front of the shop. He realized then what she was looking for. Hapless Victim missed their date. Probably saw the cop cars and split. She looked back at him and nodded. He was just pulling out onto Nelson when she said,
"Wait, that's him!"
Swallowing a sigh, Priestly smirked at her. "You really want to mess around after the night we've had?"
She tossed him a narrow look over her shoulder and said, "I especially want to mess around after the night we've had."
He watched her until she ducked into Hapless Victim's car and pulled the door closed as the guy moved around to the driver's side. Sighing, he swung out onto Nelson, putting distance between them as fast as he could. He should have known better than to think she'd give up one night of prowling to talk to the likes of him. Just like the cop, she looked past him as if he didn't count, choosing instead to get into a car with a guy who couldn't even open the door for her.
