for fumigating this place,” I say with a trace of sarcasm.
He ignores my jab. “It’s Chanel Vendetta,” he intones like a vindictive vixen.
I check out his raven black nails. “Nice. Very Adam Lambert.”
My gaze shifts over to his pinky. “Hey, Truong, why is your pinky nail so long?”
“For digging ear wax, nose wax and eye wax,” he says without missing a beat.
I make a disgusted face.
“I’m just kidding! Although I know that’s what you were probably thinking. Am I right?” He looks me squarely in the eye.
I shake my head but it’s transparently obvious I’m lying.
He dips the brush into the bottle. “It’s actually for good luck.”
“I see. But you know what some people will assume it’s for?”
“What?” he asks without looking up.
“Scooping up cocaine for a quick bump.”
This time, Truong looks up. “Girrrrl, I am no druggie! That shit does not fly with me. I’ve never done drugs in my life,” he protests huffily. “But you want to know who’s a coke head?”
Feeling a bit restless, I swivel my chair, spinning it round and round in circles. “Who?” I ask dizzily.
“Tatiana,” he deadpans.
I shoot him a speculative look. “How do you know?”
He shoots back one of his infamous I-know-I’m-the-shit sort of looks. “Mama Truong knows everything.”
“Well, spill the goods then, Mama.”
He holds his hand up eye level and appraises his work. “She and I went to the same high school, and I caught her doing blow plenty of times.”
Intrigued, I lean forward in my chair. “Tell me more.”
“That Tatiana is one skanky hoe. That hoe slept with the entire high school football team and cheerleading squad.”
I give him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. “No way!”
“Way. Girl she so did. That chick is one hot mess.” Truong inclines his head, like he always does when he is about to impart some juicy bits of gossip. “She works in the cafeteria downstairs because she’s got a felony record. They won’t hire her up here. No, no, no. That bitch is gang-sta man! She’s done time in the slammer.”
“Time in the clink? For what?” I ask, astonished.
He blows on his fresh manicure. “She stole someone’s identity, and she got busted with a DUI.”
I let out a short gasp.
Truong shakes his head. “I can’t believe our Mikquisha would go out with a stupid, skanky slut like that.”
I can’t believe it either. But Truong has sparked my interest. I need to satiate my ardent curiosity and find out more about this Tatiana character. “Truong, when’s your lunch?”
He glances at his Cartier. “Right now.”
“Me too. Do you want to go down to the cafeteria?”
He smiles a wicked little smile. “Hell yeah sista! Let’s go check out Tatiana the Tangerine.”
The cafeteria is buzzing with activity and we’re standing in line, waiting to be served by the Tangerine. A scruffy, unkempt man, sporting uneven side burns and a mangy twelve foot long ZZ Top beard, is queuing up right in front of us. Poor guy. He appears to be suffering from a serious case of persistent eczema. His skin is peeling and shedding all over the place.
It is now the unabomber’s turn to be served.
He lurches forward and leers at Tatiana lasciviously.
Tatiana flutters her fake lashes and flashes the unabomber a coquettish grin. “Hi handsome,” she gushes.
Um, if that isn’t full blown flirtation, then I don’t know what is. Doesn’t Tatiana realize that she’s not a waitress at Hooters?
D’oh! You don’t get tipped at a cafeteria for being a floozie. In fact, you don’t get tipped at a cafeteria period.
“Hey-ya doll, I’d like some tater tots purty puhlease,” the unabomber drawls like a Confederate Yankee.
“Comin right up, big boy,” coos Tatiana in a syrupy voice. She scoops up a hefty ton of tater tots and plops it onto his plate. “Is that all?” she asks saucily, wiggling her butt.
“Can ya get me a to-go box, sexy?” he drools. Apparently, Tatiana’s incessant flirting is not lost on him.
“Sure thing, cutie!” Tatiana winks and spins around to grab a Styrofoam box.
Truong and I gawp. OMG.
Tatiana’s low-rise jeans ride so low that her fishnet thong and butterfly tattoo is on display for the world to see.
Fishnet thongs? Why even bother wearing undies?
Meanwhile, the unabomber is panting like a dog in heat.
“Here you go, sweetsie.” Tatiana blows him a sensual Marilyn Monroe kiss before he slithers away. “Who’s next?” she chirps.
As soon as her eyes rest on me, her whole demeanor instantly shifts. It’s so palatably different that I can taste the hostility in my mouth. “What can I get you?”