Happy, Happy Birthday Baby -- chapter 4

All too soon, Spike slowed down on a street that was narrow and had buildings on both sides. The buildings looked very old, but every one of them was open with some sort of business. Spike killed the engine of the bike in a parking space by the curb, and, as he was loosening his helmet strap, he said, "Okay, Ed, you can let go now. We're here."

Ed looked around. "Here where?"

"Grill. C'mon, let's get that helmet off you." Spike took it off Ed's head and then ruffled her hair. "I like your new haircut." He grinned at her blush and then led her into the restaurant. Inside, it looked like another century: chrome, old green and white tile, a counter where the formica was worn down to the backing in front of each stool. The ceiling was stained with decades of cigarette smoke and grease. Spike led them to a small booth, grabbing two menus out of a holder on the way. They sat and he handed her a menu. Looking at the front, Ed saw that the place was called simply, "Grill" and the menu bore a logo of a uniformed waitress, holding a coffee pot in one hand, riding on a rocket ship.

"What can I get'cha, honey?" Ed looked up to see a waitress wearing a uniform like the one in the picture. Thankfully, Spike answered for her. "I think the young lady would like a cherry coke, and I'll have coffee. Tell me, does Rufus still run this joint?"

The waitress snapped her gum. "You're in luck, fella, Rufus is runnin' the kitchen today."

"Would you mind telling him that Spike Spiegel says hello?"

"Wouldn't mind at all, sweetie, I'll get those drinks for you, too." And she flounced away. Shortly, Ed heard a deep and gravelly voice start yelling something about that goddamned sonuvabitch Spike, and suddenly, the hugest man that Ed had ever seen swooped down on their table, pulled Spike out of his seat, and pulled him into a gruff hug.

"I thought you either died or went to jail, you effin' asshat," bellowed the man that Ed assumed was Rufus.

"Not jail, I died a couple of times, but heaven keeps kicking me out and hell doesn't want me," chuckled Spike.

"Damned kid. Always giving your elders trouble. Your pa would be ashamed. Who's this?" rumbled Rufus, turning to Ed.

"This is Ed. She's a member of that crew I run with now."

"Miss Ed, pleased to make your acquaintance, but I'd suggest you stay away from this SOB. Break your heart, that's all he ever does." Rufus grinned at Ed with ugly yellow teeth, and Ed smiled shyly at the large man.

"We're celebrating Ed's birthday today."

"So you think you can show up out of nowhere and get something for nothing, huh? For the young lady, she gets hers free. You gotta pay."

Spike laughed. "I wouldn't expect any less from you." Rufus returned to the kitchen, grumbling about ungrateful hooligans. "Don't let him scare you. Rufus is a good man. He's been running this place as long as I can remember."

"How do you know him?"

"I grew up near here. I'll show you later. But now, pick out what you want. The staff doesn't like to be kept waiting when they want to feed you."

Ed couldn't decide, and was grateful when Spike suggested a patty melt with tater tots. The waitress called it a "Starvin' Marvin", which made Ed laugh. Spike asked if Rufus still made 'that awful meat loaf', which earned Spike another tongue-lashing from the kitchen. Spike ordered it anyway.

The food arrived quickly, as Spike promised. Spike talked as they ate, about how long Grill had been around and how he'd worked here for a short while. Spike pointed out the different businesses through the window and told Ed about how each one had changed, and his memories of each. Then he began to point out people walking down the street, and he made up stories about each of them. Ed was laughing so hard she didn't even notice when Rufus came back to the table, holding a small plate.

"Happy birthday, Miss Ed. Compliments of Grill, and many happy returns."

He placed the plate before her: a large fudge brownie, topped with ice cream and a single lit candle. A couple of the waitresses came over and the three of them, along with Spike, and eventually, the rest of the denizens of Grill, sang the most horrific and off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday" ever heard. Ed was mortified by all the attention, but she thanked Rufus and blew out the candle.

Spike picked up a spoon and hacked off a corner of the brownie. "So what'd you wish for?"

Ed blushed again. "I'm not telling. It won't come true if you tell." And she picked up the other spoon and began eating the brownie from her side. They had a good-natured battle over the last bite, which Ed naturally won. Spike paid up and called his goodbyes to Rufus, who responded that Spike should visit more often, and to take care of the 'young lady'.

They went back outside, and Ed fumbled with her helmet. She was sad to think that her evening out with Spike was over, but then Spike turned the motorcycle away from the ship.

"Where are we going? The Bebop's the other way!" She had to shout over the bike.

"Next stop. You didn't think dinner was all, did you?"

Ed smiled. And she shivered a little inside.

Spike maneuvered the bike through another part of town, and into a parking lot. Ed looked at the sign as Spike stowed away their helmets: Bowling alley. Ed had never been bowling before. She even only knew vaguely how to play, but Spike took her hand and led her inside.

Inside, the place was noisy and smelled of beer. Spike led to way to the counter and asked for an alley and shoes for both of them. The man at the counter looked at Ed and said, "What size?" Ed was suddenly relieved that Faye made her try on so many pairs of shoes that day, so she knew what her shoe size was. Then a gravelly voice said, "Spike Spiegel?"

Spike frowned. "Who's asking?"

"'Who's asking?'" the gravelly voice parroted back. "Goddamn punk. You think you can just waltz back here without a proper hello."

Spike squinted at the shape in the shadows behind the counter, where the voice was coming from. "Carl?"

The shape gave a horrible cough, and then a bent old man with a cigar in his mouth came forward. "Yah, yah, it's Carl. Forgot. Just like all the others. Damn kids." The old man slapped a small key on the countertop. "So you came back. 'Bout time. Get yer crap outta the locker. Need the space." Then Carl gave another coughing fit and retreated to the shadows. Spike picked up the key and frowned at it. Then he led the way to their alley. As Ed was changing her shoes, Spike went over to a wall of lockers and opened one with the key the old man had given him. He returned to Ed with a dusty old bag in his hand.

"What is that, Spike?"

"I can't believe this. The old fart held on to it all this time." Spike opened the bag and pulled out a dark purple bowling ball that read SPIKE, and a pair of black and red bowling shoes. He laughed. "I forgot this was here."

Ed smiled. "Another ghost from your past?"

"Yeah, I used to bowl here all the time. I was pretty good, too. Another chapter of a misspent youth. C'mon, let's pick you out a ball."

Soon, Ed was standing on a lane, and Spike was standing behind her, very close. He was telling her to just swing the ball like so, and let go on the upswing, but she was having a hard time concentrating. Her ball kept rolling into the gutter. Frustrated, Ed complained, "The ball never goes where I want it to!"

Spike grinned at her. "Where do you want the ball to go?"

Ed fumed. "Well, right down the middle of the lane and hit the pins, of course."

"Okay then. C'mere. Without the ball." Spike stood right behind Ed. He put one hand on her hip, and took her right forearm with his right hand. He leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. "Now, look at the pins. Watch your arm out of the corner of your eye. You swing it back like this, and then forward. See where your hand is? You're shaking hands with the pins. Throw just like that. Got it?"

Ed was unable to speak with Spike so close. But she nodded.

"Then give it a go." Spike moved back, and Ed grabbed her ball and concentrated on the pins. Then she swung the ball back like a pendulum, then forward. She released the ball, which rolled straight down the alley and knocked down seven pins. Ed squealed with delight. Spike laughed and gave her a high-five. Her next ball only knocked down one of the remaining pins. Spike said, "You still did good," but he held up his fist and told her to tap his fist with hers. "That's how bowlers show commiseration when you get robbed. My turn."

Spike found that the muscle memory came back just like falling off a bicycle. He found his board, took off on a perfect approach, and hooked his shot right over his mark.

And hit the gutter. He groaned and Ed laughed. His second shot was better; he picked up eight. A few frames later, Spike got the wrist twist just right and his thumb made a satisfying pop on the release, which ended in a strike. Ed grimaced and called him a show-off. However, on her next time up, she rolled a strike herself. Ed gave a shriek and Spike cheered. Ed danced up to Spike and gave him a hug. He pointed out the scoring monitor, which was showing a cartoon of a dragon eating all the pins, keeping one arm around her as she watched the screen with delight. And she shivered again from the touch of Spike's arm around her shoulders.

They bowled three games in all, and the alley was getting crowded and smoky. Ed kept getting steadily better as Spike grew steadily worse. She managed to beat him on the third game, and Spike groaned in defeat. They changed out their shoes, and Spike complained that he should have just left the damn bag in the locker. But he had a smile on his face.

Soon, they were outside and Spike was strapping the old bowling bag to the back of the bike. "That was fun. I haven't been there for a long time."

Ed smiled. "It seems like no one knows much of anything about you, Spike."

Spike smiled back. "Hush. Tell no one of my secrets."

Ed cocked a fist on her hip. "Or what?"

Spike replied as he handed Ed her helmet, "I don't know. But I'll come up with something. And remember, paybacks are hell."