15: Taking Up Space (1)
939 Words
A slightly older version of the man matching the picture in my hand slipped into a dressing room. He emerged several minutes later, dressed in a canary yellow dress suit, a bright yellow shirt and tie, and yellow tennis shoes. My eyes watered, just looking at him. By the time I wiped the tears away, he disappeared.
I sprinted through the store. How hard could it be to find a guy dressed in yellow? Harder than I thought. I almost ran past him.
A kid pointed him out. "Is that Big Bird?" she asked. Her mother yanked her down the aisle.
That stopped me. I side-stepped into the ladies' lingerie section, pretending to pick out a bra while I watched the man in yellow, who transformed himself into a mannequin. He was so convincing, shoppers walked by without looking at him.
A teenager dragged his mother over to the man in yellow. "See, Mom? This is what I want to wear to the prom."
"Really?" The woman checked the price tag hanging from the canary-colored coat sleeve. "I guess we could afford this. Now, where are the suits and dress shirts?"
The mannequin pointed straight ahead.
"What about the shoes? I have to have those shoes." The boy said.
The mannequin pointed left.
"Thanks," the mother said. She smiled at him and pushed her son towards the shoe department.
"You're welcome," he said.
"Nice job." A man in a suit and tie stepped from behind a clothes rack and handed the man in yellow some folded bills.
The mannequin smiled and left the store.
I followed the man in yellow into a diner, and sat down at his booth. He c****d an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.
"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Meyers." I reached out my hand. "I'm Chuck, from How to Get Rich Magazine. I want to interview you about how you make your money.”
Meyers hesitated, then shook my hand.
"Do you mind if I join you for breakfast?" Before he could answer, I ordered the daily special. "Mr. Meyers… can I call you Walt?"
He nodded.
"You're an enigma, Walt. Word on the street is that you could be worth millions, maybe more. Yet you have no address, no telephone number, no fancy cars or clothes. Nobody who's anybody knows who you are. And …" I opened my arms to include the whole empty restaurant. "You eat at diners!"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Walt, what's your secret? How do you get rich doing … nothing?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin, stood up, and went to the restroom.
While he was gone, I decided to get more information on Walt. I strolled over to the counter and sat down on a stool. "What do you know about that guy?" I pointed to the empty table.
"Walt? I'm lucky he told me his name." The burly man, a dirty apron covering his expansive stomach, smiled at me.
A purple-haired waitress joined us. "He hardly ever talks."
The man poured me a cup of coffee. "Maybe he's conserving his energy. For what, I don't know."
A bus boy nudged the man aside and picked up a plastic bin full of dirty dishes from below the counter. "Maybe he doesn't have anything to say."
"Does he come here often?" I emptied three packets of sugar into my coffee.
The man shrugged. "Sometimes he's here every day, for every meal. Sometimes he's gone for months." He set the coffee pot back on the burner. "But I can tell you that he's good for business.”
"How so?" I poured some cream into my cup.
"This place is off the main drag, so we weren't getting much foot traffic. I seriously considered shutting down."
"And?" I took a sip.
"Walt showed up one day at lunch time and sat in a booth. A couple of working stiffs from the building across the street saw him, and walked in. Then a group of construction guys saw everyone and came in for lunch. The more folks sat down, the more people decided to have lunch here. There was a line out the door."
"Did you pay him for bringing people in?"
"Not at first. I thought it was a coincidence that all those folks showed up. But I gave him a free meal."
"Then what?"
"Walt came in for dinner. Then he came in for breakfast the next day. And for lunch. Every time he sat in a booth, more customers came in."
"Did you ever pay him?"
The man poured himself a cup of coffee. "After a couple of days. He brought in more people than all the other advertising I tried. Besides, I felt sorry for the guy. He was a little ragged around the edges, you know?"
Walt returned to the booth. "Looks like he cleaned up his act. Although that yellow suit is kinda bright."
The man laughed and set down his coffee cup. "No accounting for tastes."
I left the counter and sat across from Walt. The purple-haired waitress followed me, holding a tray piled high with plates of bacon, ham, and blueberry pancakes. After she let some customers by, she set down all the food in front of us. The table top disappeared under all the plates.
I took two pancakes, and drowned them in maple syrup. "Wow. Yum."
Between the two of us, the plates were soon empty.
Walt stood up and walked to the door, where the burly man handed Walt a wad of cash.
"Hey, wait!" I grabbed my coat and ran after him.
- Writer
