Cash nodded but still wasn’t convinced it would be as thrilling as they thought.
“Very nice,” he said. “Hey, here’s an idea! Since you guys already picked your stops, would you mind if I threw a few into the mix when the schedule allows? For example, while you guys are with Lois and Clark, maybe I could find something fun for us to do tonight?”
Everyone looked to Topher and waited for him to answer. After weeks of carefully organizing the schedule, it was his call.
“I suppose that’d be fine,” Topher said, liking the idea the more he thought about it. “Although we’re working with a tight budget. We won’t be able to do anything expensive.”
“Don’t worry about money,” Cash said. “You guys were kind enough to let me crash your trip. Whatever I add to it is on me. I insist.”
A waitress dressed as Grace Kelly delivered their milk shakes. She never looked away from Cash as she set them on the table, then hurried back to the kitchen.
“That was weird,” Joey said. “What happened to Marilyn?”
“Oh, this happens every time I eat outside Los Angeles,” Cash said. “The first waitress went into the kitchen and told the whole staff I’m here. They didn’t believe her, so now they’ll take turns bringing our food to see me for themselves.”
Like a prophecy fulfilled before their eyes, the staff of McCarthy’s did exactly what Cash predicted. A different waiter or waitress brought the appetizer and each burger separately and stared in disbelief at Cash like he was a zebra wearing human clothes. Then, like a relay, a waiter or waitress returned every thirty seconds to get their second look at him.
“Care for another milk shake, sir?” asked a waiter dressed as Elvis Presley.
“Sure, thanks,” Cash said.
“I’d love another, too!” Sam said, but the waiter was gone before anyone else had a chance to tell him.
In the blink of an eye, a waitress dressed as Lucille Ball returned with his refill, but was too scared to stay longer than a split second. Cash slid his new milk shake across the table to Sam.
“I knew they’d do that,” he said with a wink. “Figured you wanted one—I ordered this for you.”
As they ate their food, they could see word of Cash’s presence had spread beyond the staff. A few of the patrons started whispering among themselves and pointing to the sequestered group in the back.
“People are looking this way,” Mo said.
“Let me guess,” Cash said. “The table with the little boy in the red shirt, the booth with the elderly couple, the table with the men wearing trucker hats, and the booth with the teenage girls and their moms.”
“How do you know that with your back turned to them?” Joey asked.
“They clocked me on my way back from the bathroom,” Cash said. “At first they didn’t believe it was me, but after watching the staff freak out, it’s been confirmed. Seriously though, I’ve gotten so good at judging people’s mannerisms over the years.”
“I’d say so,” Topher said. “You could work for the CIA!”
Cash raised an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t?”
Marilyn Monroe returned to the table with their check. Cash put a wad of money on the table and stood up.
“Lunch is on me,” he said. “Now let’s bounce—we’ve got a schedule to stick to!”
The party of five walked to the front door and all the other heads in the restaurant watched them like dolls in a haunted house. The little boy in the red shirt suddenly leaped into their path, blocking them from the exit.
“Are you on TV?” he asked Cash.
“Um… guilty.” Cash shrugged.
“Can I get a picture with you?” the boy asked.
“You know, I’d love to, but my friends and I are on a really tight schedule.…”
Cash looked to Topher for help, but it was a big mistake. Topher wasn’t properly trained for a rescue mission.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “One picture isn’t going to set us back.”
As soon as the first picture was granted, everyone in the restaurant jumped up from their tables and surrounded Cash like wolves around a wounded animal. All the waitstaff emerged from the kitchen and joined in as well. It was a sight straight out of a Black Friday shopping spree, and Cash was the hottest electronic of the season.
Forty-five minutes later, Topher, Joey, Sam, and Mo were sitting in the car outside while they waited for Cash to finish taking pictures with every patron and employee at McCarthy’s diner.
“This is my fault,” Topher said. “How was I supposed to know everyone else would want one, too? He’s a TV star—not the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Half the people in there don’t even know who he is,” Mo said. “I know that because they’ve already posted their photos online. Listen to this caption, No idea who this is, but apparently he’s famous. There’s something so wrong with that.”
“Sure is,” Joey agreed. “Looks like he’s almost done, though—oops, spoke too soon. Here come the fry cooks.”