Page 25 - Sweet Embraceable You: Coffee-House Stories

Sweet Embraceable You 13

Ada smiled. The woman turned back to her section of The New
York Times. “Don’t let her know,” Ada said. Her eyes narrowed from
more than the glare.
“Know what?”
“She’s Brenda Vacarro.”
“She probably knows that,” Cameron said. “What are you
doing with the menu?”
“I’m folding it up for my collection. It’s not everyday a movie
star hands you a menu.”
“Ada, you’re putting me on.”
Ada’s eyes narrowed even more in the Tiburon sunglare.
“Omigod,” Cameron said. “You’re not putting me on.”
“Right,” Ada said. “Indulge my little fantasy.”
“You’ll laugh about this when you have a saner moment,”
Cameron said. “Don’t you dare ask for an autograph or I’ll tell our
future children.”
“You hate children.”
“I forgot.”
A waiter took an order from Michael Douglas, who did not
smoke, while Brenda Vacarro lit up a filter king, and tossed a bread-
crust to a cruising gull. The waiter, oblivious to Ada and Cameron,
spun his exit still scratching on his pad. Douglas returned to the
“Arts” section of the Times, looking up only when Vacarro inter-
rupted to show him a recipe which his father’s wife, Mrs. Kirk
Douglas, had been asked to supply to the “Gourmet Supplement”
she was reading.
“What about our order?” Cameron said. “We were here first.”
“We’re not famous,” Ada said.
The waiter returned with two gin fizzes and a Sanka for Brenda
Vacarro. So close were the two tables, he kept his position and
turned on point to Cameron and Ada. “Have you decided?” he
asked politely.
“We’ll have...” Cameron began.
“Whatever they’re having,” Ada interrupted, triumphant.

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