JК
The Colorado Kid :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 5 из 81“In any case, he left a hundred, and that’s at least thirtyfive dollars too much, even with a twenty percent tip added in. So I took his money. When Helen brings the check, I’ll sign it, because theIslander runs a tab here.”
“And you’ll tip more than twenty percent, I hope,” Stephanie said, “given her situation at home.”
“That’s just where you’re wrong,” Vince said.
“I am?Why am I?”
He looked at her patiently. “Why do you think? Because I’m cheap? Yankeetight?”
“No. I don’t believe that any more than I think black men are lazy or Frenchmen think about sex all day long.”
“Then put your brain to work. God gave you a good one.”
Stephanie tried, and the two men watched her do it, interested.
“She’d see it as charity,” Stephanie finally said.
Vince and Dave exchanged an amused glance.
“What?” Stephanie asked.
“Gettin a little close to lazy black men and sexy Frenchmen, ain’tcha, dear?” Dave asked, deliberately broadening his downeast accent into what was nearly a burlesque drawl. “Only now it’s the proud Yankee woman that won’t take charity.”
Feeling that she was straying ever deeper into the sociological thickets, Stephanie said, “You mean she would take it. For her kids, if not for herself.”
“The man who bought our lunch was from away,” Vince said. “As far as Helen Hafner’s concerned, folks from away just about got money fallin out of their…their wallets.”
Amused at his sudden detour into delicacy on her account, Stephanie looked around, first at the patio area where they were sitting, then through the glass at the indoor seating area. And she saw an interesting thing. Many—perhaps even most—of the patrons out here in the breeze were locals, and so were most of the waitresses serving them. Inside were the summer people, the socalled “offislanders,” and the waitresses servingthem were younger. Prettier, too, and also from away. Summer help. And all at once she understood. She had been wrong to put on her sociologist’s hat. It was far simpler than that.
“The Grey Gull waitresses share tips, don’t they?” she asked. “That’s what it is.”
Vince pointed a finger at her like a gun and said, “Bingo.”
“So what do you do?”
“What I do,” he said, “is tip fifteen percent when I sign the check and put forty dollars of thatGlobe fella’s cash in Helen’s pocket. She gets all of that, the paper doesn’t get hurt, and what Uncle Sam don’t know don’t bother him.
“And you’ll tip more than twenty percent, I hope,” Stephanie said, “given her situation at home.”
“That’s just where you’re wrong,” Vince said.
“I am?Why am I?”
He looked at her patiently. “Why do you think? Because I’m cheap? Yankeetight?”
“No. I don’t believe that any more than I think black men are lazy or Frenchmen think about sex all day long.”
“Then put your brain to work. God gave you a good one.”
Stephanie tried, and the two men watched her do it, interested.
“She’d see it as charity,” Stephanie finally said.
Vince and Dave exchanged an amused glance.
“What?” Stephanie asked.
“Gettin a little close to lazy black men and sexy Frenchmen, ain’tcha, dear?” Dave asked, deliberately broadening his downeast accent into what was nearly a burlesque drawl. “Only now it’s the proud Yankee woman that won’t take charity.”
Feeling that she was straying ever deeper into the sociological thickets, Stephanie said, “You mean she would take it. For her kids, if not for herself.”
“The man who bought our lunch was from away,” Vince said. “As far as Helen Hafner’s concerned, folks from away just about got money fallin out of their…their wallets.”
Amused at his sudden detour into delicacy on her account, Stephanie looked around, first at the patio area where they were sitting, then through the glass at the indoor seating area. And she saw an interesting thing. Many—perhaps even most—of the patrons out here in the breeze were locals, and so were most of the waitresses serving them. Inside were the summer people, the socalled “offislanders,” and the waitresses servingthem were younger. Prettier, too, and also from away. Summer help. And all at once she understood. She had been wrong to put on her sociologist’s hat. It was far simpler than that.
“The Grey Gull waitresses share tips, don’t they?” she asked. “That’s what it is.”
Vince pointed a finger at her like a gun and said, “Bingo.”
“So what do you do?”
“What I do,” he said, “is tip fifteen percent when I sign the check and put forty dollars of thatGlobe fella’s cash in Helen’s pocket. She gets all of that, the paper doesn’t get hurt, and what Uncle Sam don’t know don’t bother him.