Say Cheese Read Free

sweatshirt. Shep imagined a casting agent discovering Felix at a soda fountain, crying out
That face!
and Felix saying
This old thing?
    He was unfailingly polite when he called his order over the bar, and always had a wink and a smile for Shep when he swung back by to collect the tray of drinks. He had a line from
The Golden Girls
for every occasion, knew the French words to every Melody Gardot song Pandora piped in, and referenced Cary Grant and Grace Kelly as naturally as Jay-Z and Beyoncé. He kissed hello and said, “Charmed, I’m sure.” Every waiter at the Clarion wanted to be an actor—Felix longed to be a Star.
    The night the photo was taken hadn’t started out as anything special. It wasn’t the staff Christmas Party, or anybody’s birthday. It was just some random Tuesday where, by the time Felix busted out his cell phone for selfies, they were the only two left in the bar. Raul was tucked back in his office, counting receipts or trolling Growlr, or whatever it was restaurant owners did at three o’clock in the morning. Marc and Randy had stumbled off down Santa Monica Boulevard, having downed their customary two bottles of after-work wine apiece. Frieda was long gone, and Shep and Felix were rattling the ice cubes around in their highball glasses. Work was over, the whiskey bottle was empty. It was way past time to say good night, but each time they looked at each other, they agreed on another bogus reason to stay.
    â€œLet’s take a picture,” Felix suggested. “We’re friends now, and I like having pictures of my friends.”
    â€œWhat a cunning little camera,” quoth Shep while Felix orchestrated their close-up. He couldn’t help himself—
The Philadelphia Story
had been his grandmother’s favorite movie. He’d watched it with her no fewer than a thousand times, and could deliver a note-perfect staged reading of the entire film by the time he was six. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had snapped a photo in his general vicinity that he hadn’t channeled Tracy Lord.
    â€œI’m afraid I’m an awful nuisance with it,” Felix riposted, not missing a beat.
    â€œBut you couldn’t be,” Shep deadpanned. “I hope you’ll take loads.”
    Felix replied to this line by snapping a shot. When Shep blinked the flash out of his eyes, they posed again, all smiles, for another.
    â€œI love that movie!” Felix gushed.
    â€œI can play
Lydia the Tattooed Lady
on the piano,” Shep said, referencing Tracy’s little sister Dinah’s most triumphant scene.
    â€œYou’ll have to show me some time,” Felix said with a sleepy grin. “That’s a line I haven’t heard before.”
    â€œWow,” Shep said. “I’m impressed with myself. I wouldn’t have thought there could be a pickup line
you
hadn’t heard.”
    Felix laughed. “Right, cuz nobody’s ever dropped one on you before?”
    Shep shrugged. “What’s your favorite?”
    â€œI’m a traditionalist,” Felix said. “‘I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours?’ ‘Shall I call you for breakfast or just nudge you?’”
    Shep laughed. “Nobody’s ever used that on you.”
    â€œHas so. Then he kicked me out in the morning without so much as a Pop Tart to go. I was like, Dude... nice follow through....”
    â€œNo kidding. I mean, if you’re gonna use it....”
    â€œRight? You don’t have to
buy
me breakfast, Mister Starving Artist, I get it. But you could at least have some eggs in the fridge.”
    â€œA piece of toast...?”
    â€œOkay, confess—what’s the worst line that’s ever worked on you?”
    Shep lowered his eyes. “He was really fine, though....”
    â€œUh huh. What’d he say?”
    â€œWe’re at Pride, right? In Atlanta? Big ol’ country-lookin’ boy