Two

The Rainbow was always packed, but they still greeted customers eagerly. It was part of their charm.

"Just one today, hon?" A matronly blonde waitress approached with a cheery smile and an oversized menu in her hand.

"Uh, I'm meeting a friend. I think he might be here already."

"Sure, hon! Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks!"

Manny was seated at a window booth. Sunlight poured in over the table making it difficult for him to read his phone.

"How ya doin', boss?"

"Hey, Mikey!" Manny replied enthusiastically while sliding the phone into his pocket. "I thought maybe you weren't gonna show."

"Sorry! It took a little longer than I thought."

"You been up all night?" Manny asked.

"How'd you guess?" 

Manny shook his head. "You gotta take better care o' yourself, man!"

"Yeah, and I gotta deliver on a job when it comes along, too."

"You always deliver, Mikey. I never had any doubts."

"How's Maria?" I asked, diverting the topic.

"She's doin' well!"

"Your son still playing baseball?"

"Yeah, both boys," Manny said proudly. "I think the young one's gonna be better than his brother."

"Are you ready?" The waitress was fresh faced and fit, about nineteen. She sported a blonde bob cut and a rack that pushed her blouse to its limits.

"Yeah, I'll take the pancakes," Manny said, glancing at her nervously.

"Steak and eggs, well done," I said. "And a grapefruit juice, please. No ice."

"K," was all she said as she dashed off.

"Well," Manny exclaimed, "that was impressive!"

"I felt bad for that middle button," I added.

"I thought it was gonna pop there for a minute," Manny said, chuckling.

"Definitely working harder than its neighbors," I observed.

"Yeah," Manny continued. "I think it needs to renegotiate it's contract."

I grinned. It was good to joke around with Manny. It reminded me of old times, better times.

"So, Mikey, ya got something for me." Manny blurted it out as more of a statement than a question.

I passed him a large plain envelope. He opened it and inspected the contents carefully. "Yeah, this'll work," he said after a long minute.

"Think Ed will like it?" I explored. I was curious. Who at the paper was involved in Manny's questionably creative endeavors, and who was left out of the loop. Were these pictures sanctioned by the editors, or did they just show up anonymously at the desk?

"Hey, listen," he explained. "I'm sorry that we can't exactly credit your for this. I hope the money makes up for that."

"I understand." His position was reasonable, and I needed the work.

"It's just, with everything you've been through, with the way that you left things..."

"That's not why I was asking, Manny," I assured him. "I want to make sure you get what you need. I want you to keep doing well over there."

"Yeah, thanks."

Manny and I were dinosaurs, newspaper men of a different era about to be rendered extinct by bloggers and a hundred million phone cameras. So much information was collected by the masses now - the ranks of professionals were dwindling. 

I'm walking the path now that Manny still faces. He doesn't know it yet, but I give him two years. I don't know what he's going to do to support his kids. This is the only business he knows. 

I survive as a freelancer. Need photos of someone getting into trouble? Or a reenactment of a dirty deed that will hold up under expert scrutiny? I'm your man. But Manny's not wired that way. He's a decent fellow, and the world's about to run him over like a truck.

"Pancakes..." the waitress confirmed as she set the plate in front of Manny.

"...and steak and eggs. I'll be back with your juice."

"Whoa, steak and eggs!" Manny exclaimed. "What'd you come into some dough?"

"Just yours, Manny," I said. "That is, if you still plan to pay me."

"Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed reaching into his satchel.

I noticed, the waitress' nametag as she placed the juice on the table. "Justine, my name is Mike." I extended a hand.

"Hi," she said tentatively. She shook my hand more as a reflex than a conscious gesture.

"I own a photography business. You look very nice. I wanted to know if you've done any modeling."

"Not the kind of modeling you're talking about." Justine dashed away.

"Whoa! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!" Manny exclaimed laughing. "She pulled the perv card on you there, buddy!"

"Yeah, it's okay. I'm sure she gets hit on a lot."

"That doesn't usually happen to you, bud," Manny rubbed it in. "You must be losing your edge."

"Or maybe I just look like a scarecrow after staying up all night working on a certain re-enactment project."

"Yeah, that's right, Mikey! Blame me!"

"Just give me the money." Manny handed me the envelope. Five hundred, as promised. This was looking like a decent day from a revenue perspective. I was wondering how much more dough I could get my hands on.

"What're you gonna do?" Manny asked glancing in the direction of the waitress.

"Let it go, for now," I explained. "I'll stop back in a few days with some head shots, let her know that I'm serious. Tell her that she looks amazing, offer free prints...and hope she doesn't still think I'm a perv."

"But you are a perv, Mikey!"

"Hey, for a baby-faced doll with giant hooters, who isn't?"

"Oh, yeah!" Manny agreed. "But you're in a predicament now."

"What do you mean?"

"If you tip her, she'll think you want to get into her pants. If you don't tip her, she'll think you're an asshole."

"Well, you know how it is with women," I said. 

"Yeah," Manny knew what I was thinking. "It's always better to err on the side of being an asshole."

"And I just saved myself a few bucks."

We laughed. It was nice to enjoy that fleeting moment of connection.

"Or I could give her a really big tip," I mused. 

"How big?" Manny asked.

"I don't know," I said. "But I think I'm in a generous mood today."

"What do you think your chances are?" Manny asked.

"We are talking about photographing her, right?"

"Whatever you want to do, Mikey, it's fine with me."

"I don't mess with the young ones, Manny. Even if you get there, they don't appreciate it. Everybody and his brother wants to screw 'em. It's nothing special."

Manny nodded. His lips were closed tight as he thought over what I'd said.

"Let 'em get knocked around by life for a while," I continued. "Experience the fear of getting old, losing their looks. The appreciation factor goes way up."

"Shut up, you slick bastard!" Manny was scolding me playfully. "And you keep that poetic crap away from my daughter, you hear me?" 

"I hear ya," I said with a smile.

"I can still kick your ass," Manny continued. "You know that."

"Nothing to worry about, my friend," I assured him. "Family's off limits."




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