Chapter 3: Handsome Hank

Vicki came by the restaurant many times, every couple of weeks, with a new man, always older. Each time the light inside her dimmed to the point where even Becky noticed. Sex work. She hinted at it but never told me. Always the salad, always a strawberry cooler, and while she smiled at the men’s jokes, her smile never left her mouth, never traveled to her eyes, which always appeared sad.

Becky never let on that she knew Vicki, not in front of the men anyway, but she always smiled at Vicki behind the men’s backs and always touched her hand as they left. Vicki would make comments about the decor, the various cheap framed posters that Becky bought and put up instead of the paper hearts. Vicki especially loved ‘Lovers under an umbrella in the snow’ by Suzuki Harunobu, which she purchased for me on our first anniversary and hung beside our bedroom door. I never understood why she liked it, too simple, not enough color. Becky loved ‘Il bacio’ by Francesco Hayez more, and I agreed with her.

One man, a pretty one, one that even I thought handsome, entered arm in arm with Vicki. They arrived late on a Saturday evening, Becky’s last day of the week, and with a new server for Becky to support, she didn’t notice Vicki. A busy night, with me on the front table while Vicki sat thigh to thigh at the back. He wore a stylish black and red top, black pants with a red leather belt, and a gold buckle. A well-trimmed, scruffy dark brown beard with dark brown eyes. Long, scarred fingers, a cowboy, like from the westerns, he even spoke with a Texas drawl.