I picked my wash towel up and rubbed at
a stubborn dried ketchup stain on a nearby table. After almost seven
hours of working—during the Christmas shopping season near the mall, no
less—my whole body hurt, but I had only fifteen minutes till closing.
Soon I would take off the ridiculous uniform and crawl into the shower
to wash the stench of grease, coffee, dishwater, and ketchup off.
I never had anything against the condiment till I started working in fast
food as a sandwich maker, standing over vats of the stuff, but now even
a whiff of it turns my stomach. Just taking my hair out of the ponytail
would be a sensual pleasure. My, how our expectations plummet.
A nearby table of high school kids giggled
and pointed at me occasionally. I couldn't wait until they had
to humiliate themselves for a job. Maybe they would have to work
through college, too.
Over the drive-thru headset's internal
line I heard my manager getting back to his "seduction" of Ray, one of
our line people. "I could make it so good for you, Ray," Dennis
said in what I hoped was a parody of a seductive tone. Otherwise,
I pitied his fiancee.
Ray looked like a faded, bespectacled version
of Opie and usually said very little. If you didn't know him well,
you'd think he was a mouse. But like many mice, he hid a tiger under
the shyness. "I don't think you could handle me," Ray answered
in a voice that made me squidge.
"Go get 'im, Ray!" Debbie said.
I had to put my two cents in. Over
the air, I asked, "Hey, Dennis, how much will you pay to stop me from
revealing your mad passion for Ray to your fiancee?"
The high schoolers looked at me funny.
If they didn't notice the headset or beltpack, though I didn't see why
they wouldn't, they would think I was talking to myself. The whole
night crew wore headsets to help on drive-thru but mostly to carry on conversations
from all over the building. Sometimes comments meant for the internal
line got broadcast through the outdoor box, but we were usually more careful
than that.
I saw two men come in and head for the
front counter. They soon disappeared behind the menu wall.
As I put the towel down and walked to the behind-the-line area and my register,
I said, "Heads up, people. Customers on the line. I may need
a grill guy."
When I reached the register I pivoted to
face the customers with my professional smile and asked, "Have you decided
what—" My eyebrow raised and stayed there. Yeah, it appeared that
they knew what they wanted. The menu just had nothing to do with
it.
The guy dressed in black leather and denim,
with a green scarf for color, had a man dressed in a beautiful blue trench
coat with what could be a suit under it pinned against the wall.
They kissed ravenously, with their eyes closed and their gloved hands roaming
wildly over one another.
Maybe they thought the menu wall shielded
them from view. Maybe they didn't care. Whatever, but I don't think
they would notice a bomb going off next to them.
I boosted myself onto the back counter
and sighed as I stretched my aching legs. I wasn't even supposed
to lean on anything, let alone sit, but Dennis couldn't see me now.
I swung my legs and waited for my customers to finish what they were doing.
And waited. And waited. I bit back the temptation to ask them
if they wanted to get a room.
I doubt they realized they had an audience.
Thus, the universe reminds me of my insignificance again. Thank you,
universe.
As I watched them kiss and writhe against
one another, I started to get really depressed. Yeah, it was hot
to watch, and they made some really interesting noises, but it reminded
me of what I wasn't getting.
"Hey, have they ordered yet?" Ray asked
as he walked up front. He hadn't seen yet.
"No, they're still making up their minds,"
I said in a tone that could rival the Sahara Desert for dryness.
The man in the trench coat broke away and
turned to face me a little. He looked flushed, and his lips were
damp and swollen and... Oh, stop it. Leatherboy still clung to him
and, I swear, tongued his ear. "Oh, hi." Trench Coat Man sounded
really embarrassed. Maybe he didn't do this every day. The
other one, though... "Stop that, Alex! You were the one who
got hungry. And I know what you're going to say next, so you don't have
to."
"Am I getting predictable?"
Oh, I didn't want to hear this. "For
here or to go?" I asked. I prayed they would leave. I had ten
minutes to go.
"Alex" finally noticed me. "To stay,"
he said with a big grin turned in my direction.
I probably would have melted into a puddle
of goo from that look usually, but... Not when they would be eating
here.
"We're staying," the trench coat guy said
with a resigned air.
Oh, shit. They were going to hold
me up. Maybe they would eat while they weren't snogging one another,
but it would take forever. Forever before we could close and I could go
home. I could see my shower receding further and further
into the distance.
I maintained my professional pleasant face
and asked for their order. Alex leaned across the counter to stare
at the menu behind me. And stare. And stare. Just before
I lost it, he said, "Two quarter pounders."
"What would you like on them?" Like pulling
teeth. Why do people do this?
"Everything with extra pickle."
I called out the burgers over the speaker
so Ray could get them started, then asked, "Anything else?"
Alex's smile turned wider and nastier.
"Oh, I have to get one of those. Hey, Mulder, they have a great
biggie size."
Trench Coat Man, "Mulder," squirmed.
"That's nice, Alex," he answered in a monotone.
"A great biggie fry, a medium Coke, and
a medium frosty. What are you having, Mulder?"
Mulder had stiffened and seemed to have
been struck speechless. Stage fright? Then I saw Alex's arm moving.
I couldn't see where his hand had gone, but I can guess.
I'm never getting out of here!
While I waited for my customer to regain
the power of speech, I saw a group of five walking up to the building.
If they came in before the doors closed, we would have to serve them.
This is Susan. This is Susan's register.
Watch Susan bang her head against the register. Bang, Susan, bang!
But then I saw them take something out
from under their trench coats. Guns. Big guns. They walked
toward the doors. Oh, God.
My face must have shown my horror, because
Leatherboy turned to look and shouted, "Everybody get down!"
I dropped to the floor and heard guns firing.
Ray ran to the back. "Dennis, call 911 now! We have a situation!"
I shouted over the internal line and left it on a bit so Dennis could hear
the guns.
I could just make out the sound of a shattering
window over the roar. One shot hit the coffee machine, sending a
wave of scalding hot coffee, liberally mixed with splinters of carafe,
at me. I dodged most of the liquid but felt some of the shards penetrate
my skin. I could hear myself making some sort of pathetic squeaking
sound under my breath.
I stiffened at the sudden buzzing and crackling
over my headset. Someone had stopped on the drive-thru plate. "Get
that, Susan," Dennis said on the internal line.
"I'm sort of in the middle of something
here!"
"Ray—"
"Welcome to Wendy's. May I take
your order? Ray asked, which had me laughing as well as squeaking.
The drive-thru customers just wanted frosties,
so I stayed low and poured them while another window broke somewhere in
the distance. Once Ray collected the money and passed the frosties
out to the car, the dining room finally went silent.
I kept close to the wall before slowly
looking out. Bullet holes pockmarked almost everything I saw.
Five dining room windows had exploded into shards, letting the night air
in. Winter introduced itself to the dining room. I saw a corpse
or two and shivered.
My two customers, who had used the menu
wall as cover, looked okay aside from what looked like a shallow bullet
wound on Alex's arm. "You should have left one alive!" Mulder said.
"Why? You wouldn't let me question
him here, and he would die mysteriously before we got at him through official
channels, so why bother?"
"Alex—"
"There was no other way."
"When did you get shot?"
"When do you think? God, Mulder."
Then Alex smirked. "Wanna kiss it and make it better?"
"If I kissed you, that's not where I'd
do it."
"Where then?"
This exchange led to another deep kiss.
While I waited for them to finish climbing all over each other, I heard
someone whimpering from the far end of the dining room. Maybe the
high schoolers had escaped harm, or at least death, after all.
"Ray, could you go out to the dining room
and check on our other customers? The gunmen are all dead.
Well, the last five, at least," I said.
"Sure, but what will you be doing?"
"Making sure the two guys with guns left
standing don't wig out."
"Susan, are we forgetting who's manager
here?" Dennis asked.
"No, I'm just helping you manage."
I gave Ray the thumb's up sign as he slunk out into the dining room.
You could always count on Ray.
When I turned back, I had Alex standing
near me looking into my face. "We never finished our order.
And we want it to go after all. What are you having, Mulder?"
"I don't want anything now."
"You don't eat enough."
"Alex—"
"Is it so wrong for me to want you to take
care of yourself?"
I think I'm going to hurl. That,
or I'm already getting sick from the freezing cold air coming through what
remained of our windows.
"Look, if I change my mind, I'll graze
from some of your stuff."
"But then we'll have to stop again."
Mentally, I was slamming my head against
the counter. Physically, I kept my professional face on and said, "This
shouldn't take long at all." Tiny clouds of steam came out of my mouth
as I spoke. I need a coat.
No one came out to help me, so I finished
cooking the burgers, fried the fries, and put the sandwiches and drinks
together myself. When I had a hand free I pressed the button on my
beltpack and muttered things about cowardice and vengeance over the internal
line. Occasionally Ray said something over the line about the high
schoolers, who were shaken but okay.
I threw a second great biggie fry into
the bag. I might as well. I had to stifle a hysterical laugh
at the sudden image of the two of them coming back here just because I
was so nice to them.
"Let me take down your badge number," I
said. I knew Mulder was lying, at least partially, about Alex. Why
should I trust him on anything else?
"What?"
"I need something substantial to give to
the police. I need your badge number to identify you." TV has its
uses.
After I took the number down, copying it
myself from Agent Mulder's badge, Alex lightly touched my face with one
gloved hand. I saw blood on the leather. "Take care of yourself...
Susan." I had to look away from his too-intense eyes. How did Mulder
stand them?
"I am sorry about this," Agent Mulder said
as Alex dragged him off into the night.
I put a finger to my face and wiped the
blood away. When I put it to my mouth, I tasted coffee along with
the iron tang. I could feel glass under the skin. I had some
bleeding shrapnel marks on my bare arms as well. My bulky uniform
had protected most of the rest of me.
I stood staring silently at the carnage
in the dining room until Dennis finally came out and went into a fit of
anger. I expected him to start convulsing. Debbie laughed nervously,
and Tim just shook his head.
"The kids will be fine. I'm trying
to keep them here until the cops arrive. They probably saw more than
Susan did," Ray said.
Till the cops arrive? I looked at
my watch. 11:10 pm. I had to stick around to talk with the
cops.
No one protested when I started to viciously
kick the wall.
The End...
May I Take Your Order?
by Viridian5
I taped the silver tinsel garland back
on the railing for the third time today and tried to block out the strains
of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Wendy's started playing Christmas
songs in late November and didn't stop until December 26th. I had
two more weeks of hell to go. It doesn't surprise me that the suicide
rate skyrockets this time of year, just that the homicide rate doesn't
jump with it. If I had a gun...
Alex paid me while Mulder apologized over
and over again. Finally, he flipped open a badge and said, "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I can't stay to talk to the cops myself,
as much as I wish I could. This man with me is a witness who needs
to be protected and kept anonymous." I noticed the look of surprise and
pleasure that crossed Leatherboy's face. Hmm. "So don't describe
him to the police."
