Done Burger Page 4

  I still hadn't quite figured out the customer patterns; when it would be busy versus not. It still took me by surprise most of the time, although I was slowly learning not to be surprised by anything, including the man wearing long johns and the woman walking her invisible cat, or dog, whatever it was. But so far tonight, it had been busy. Too hot for people to cook.

  Sitting down on the chair, I lit my cigarette and took a drag, feeling the nicotine hit my brain almost immediately. I'm not sure if that was true or if I just imagined it, but this was definitely a crutch of some kind. Or a form of rebellion, considering my mom was a nurse. I didn't analyze it too much; it would ruin the subversive nature of it.

  Before coming today, I hadn't actually spoken to anyone. Mom was working day shifts again, so it was just me at home and I hadn't felt like doing anything other than lying on the couch watching crap TV. I wished I still was, but also wondering if I was supposed to have more of a life than this. I just couldn't be bothered.

  The door burst open and I bit my teeth together not to swear at whoever just gave me such a start.

  "Pepper," Wyatt said, strolling out. "I didn't know you were here." He had a soda in his hands and walked over to the fence, sitting down and putting his arms around his knees. "How's it going?"

  "Alright," I said noncommittally. I had no problem with Wyatt. I didn't know him well. He was just a typical guy, nothing particularly noticeable about him. Average looks, average height, average build. Joe Average.

  "Doing anything this weekend?"

  "Might go to the movies with my mom."

  "Cool, my mom doesn't really leave the house. Agoraphobic."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "I don't think she is really; she just doesn't want to leave the house. Ever since she discovered online shopping." He took another sip of his soda and leaned back against the fence. "So I hear you're starting college in the fall."

  "Yeah," I said, wondering who had been talking about me.

  "What are you going to study?"

  I shrugged. "Debating over a couple of things, but I haven't decided." It was a flat out lie; I’d indicated law, but for some reason, I couldn’t commit to that publicly. "What about you?"

  "Got no immediate plans. I work on my comics during the day."

  "You do comics?" I said with surprise. "Like graphics and everything?"

  "Sure. I sell them through my website. Pays shit, but you know, someday it might turn into something."

  I was impressed. "How long have you been doing that?"

  "Since I was a kid. Although Mom thinks I should go to college instead, study accounting or something."

  With a smile, I sympathized, having also been at the receiving end of suggestions to get into the most boring professions on the planet. 'Sally's son became an actuary. Earns six figures now. He's just about to buy a house. You should consider that. You're smart enough to do anything.' Not smart enough to know what the hell an actuary was, but it sounded soul destroying. Instead, Wyatt was sticking to his guns, focusing on something he loved doing. "More power to you," I said with a mock salute. I wondered if I'd make the same choice if there was something I loved doing. I'd like to think so, but then I had no particular things I was passionate about.

  The door burst open again and Riley walked out. The atmosphere immediately changed, became more charged and uncomfortable. He always had that effect.

  "I guess I better head back in," Wyatt said and stood up, handing the soda over to Riley, who sat down where Wyatt had been sitting, his legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He just stared at me and seconds ticked past.

  "I'm not giving you a cigarette," I said.

  "Come on. I'm broke."

  "And how is that my problem?"

  "Heartless."

  He stroked his hands through his hair, his movements a little jerky. "Are you drunk?"

  "Not more than usual."

  "Maybe the reason you don't have money for your own smokes. I'm certainly not going to enable you. That would be wrong."

  "So cold," he accused with a tsk. "You're going to make me earn it, aren't you?"

  "I'm not going to anything."

  "Maybe I should wrap my arms around your legs and beg. Big crocodile tears running round my face. You'll love it."

  I was ready to kick him away if he came closer. Annoyingly, he intently watched my mouth take a drag like some starving kid outside a restaurant window. I hated being watched. "Secondary smoke then. Just breathe out into my mouth." He smiled, completely toying with me.

  "You come anywhere near me, I'll stab you with it," I said, indicating the lit end of my smoke.

  "Kinky. Such aggression, Miss Minnow. You should probably see someone about that. How is it you're single?"

  "Who said I was single?"

  "Ella."

  I could kill her for this. Instead, I rolled my eyes. Riley had a habit of doing that, twisting things around. "Just don't like annoying dicks hassling me for cigarettes."

  "Please, you love it. You have the upper hand and you can make me do anything you want. Rub your feet, carry your bag. All manner of sexual favors."

  "For a cigarette? You sell yourself pretty cheap," I said dismissively.

  He shrugged. "Then there's always the day you run out of cigarettes." The suggestion in his voice was unmistakable and he was daring me to ask what he'd make me do.

  "Forward thinking. It's a useful trait; stops you from pimping yourself out to all and sundry for something so simple as a bit of nicotine."

  "I suppose that depends on what you're waiting to pimp yourself out for."

  "I don't pimp myself out, period."

  "Are you sure? Not even a nice car and a house with a picket fence in the good part of town?"

  "What the hell are you on?"

  "Everyone pimps themselves in exchange for something. Come on. Ella pimps herself out for anyone with a car and a credit card, who will buy her expensive shoes. Everyone has a price, even you."

  "I don't."

  “You're choosing between two guys, both the same in every respect, but one is rich and one isn't. Which one do you choose?"

  "The one I love."

  "But you love them both. One's got a nice house and money in the bank and the other doesn't. Which one do you choose?"

  He was infuriating me and I was not playing this game. "How about I give you a cigarette if you promise to never speak to me again?"

  "I could lie for all you know."

  "Or just go in my bag and steal one," I accused.

  "Didn't know you were going to be so pedantic about it. Working next to Matilda is rubbing off on you."

  "You're a dick," I said, getting up.

  "Hey, I'm sorry," he said earnestly, getting up too. He came over and put his hands lightly on my upper arms. "You're nothing like Matilda, you're nice." The sarcasm filtered through in the end.

  "Just leave me alone." I seriously wanted to hit something when I punched in the code for the door. Riley was the biggest asshole I'd ever met. I threw a filthy look at him where he stood with his wrist clasped in front of him, looking relaxed and his eyebrows slightly raised in challenge. "Screw you," I said.

  I stormed into the restaurant. It was going to be impossible to work here with him, I thought as I returned to my register. Always picking on me, pick, pick, pick. Pushing that little bit more each time. But maybe that was just him, a grade A douche bag, just here to make things hard for everyone else. He was a loser and wanted everyone else to be on his level.

  Did this constitute harassment? Maybe I should have a chat with Julian to have him stop Riley from talking to me.

  Arms came around me, leaning on a counter. He was right behind me, leaning forward slightly. Dread crept up my spine as Riley leaned closer. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was a dick." He actually sounded like he meant it this time, and now I didn't know what to say. For one, he was standing a little too close. Not touching or anything, but he did crowd my space. Two, he had been a dick an
d was owning up to it. I waited for the punchline, the one where he undid what he'd just said, but it didn't come.

  "I don't come to work so I can be harassed by assholes. Next time I'll seriously slap you down hard," I threatened.

  "Fine, but can I suggest that if the future, you not bring up stuff you'll do to me, because I'm still technically a teenage boy with raging hormones and all that, and yes, my mind twists that shit around pretty much every time. Unless you actually want to go there; I'll be up for a bit of discipline. Just saying."

  I elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted. "So violent; I love it," he said breathily.

  "You are this close to undoing your apology," I warned with my fingers an inch apart.

  "I'm sorry," he said, hanging his head down to my shoulder. "I'm a horrible, insensitive person. Probably somewhere on the autistic spectrum."

  "You're not autistic," I accused. He was so not autistic. "Sometimes an ass-hat is just an ass-hat."

  "Go do some work, Riley," Julian said behind us and Riley stood taller, pulling away.

  "Yes, sir," he said and walked off to his cave in the back.

  * * *

  Chapter 8:

  * * *

  Deseree walked into the lunch room and sat down heavily, taking a Tupperware container out of her bag. It smelled lovely when she opened it. Mac and cheese, homemade too.

  "You cook?" I asked.

  "I do it on the weekends," she said, "for the whole week. Saves time."

  Everyone knew Deseree worked another job during the day. She ate listlessly and checked her phone quickly before putting it away.

  "How old are your kids?" I asked when I felt the silence press too much. Deseree obviously didn't mind silence.

  "Eleven, seven and four."

  I didn't know what to say. It was always so awkward talking to Deseree. Anything you said potentially sounded like and insult, like 'They must be a handful,’ or 'Who's watching them?' or even worse, 'It's such a shame you have to work two jobs,' which I really thought, but you couldn't say these things. I did feel sorry for her, probably working from nine to midnight. Did she have to or did she just want the extra money? Again something you couldn't ask. "Fun ages," I settled on. Which again was risky, because what the hell did I know. It could be a total nightmare for all I knew.

  I cleared my throat and shifted awkwardly in my chair. I certainly didn't dislike Deseree; she just made me feel awkward because she was the fate I would hate to find myself in, working every hour of the day to make ends meet. That must be all kinds of levels of sucking. Sorry your life sucks, Deseree. I smiled when she looked up.

  "Are you done with that?" she asked, pointing at the newspaper under my arm.

  "Sure," I said and handed it over. Maybe she felt as awkward talking to me as I did to her. Probably in her mind wondering what to say to a kid who didn't know life sucks yet.

  Ella walked in and palpable relief washed over me. If Ella and I were in different zip codes, Deseree was on another planet.

  "I went to this club last night after work," she said, putting her feet up on a spare chair.

  "Yeah, good night?"

  "It was and then it wasn't. I was dancing with my guy and this girl cuts in in front of me and starts dancing with him, and I'm like giving him the look like, are you going to just stand there staring at her tits? He's so stupid. So we had this huge fight and that was my night."

  "That sucks," I commiserated.

  "He's sent these apology texts all day, but I'm not talking to him. Like there better be flowers and champagne waiting for me after work tonight or we're done."

  Without a word, but still quite noisily, Deseree packed up her Tupperware container and left. "What's her problem?" Ella asked, tugging the side of her mouth.

  I had no idea, but obviously she'd gotten offended by something. Maybe that Ella could go out after work and then sleep all day? "I don't know." It wasn't Ella's fault she was eighteen and totally unencumbered by a mortgage, bills, kids and car payments.

  "So you’re thinking about dumping him?" I asked.

  "Nah, just making him suffer for a while. I understand girls are all over him, but he's with me now, and people need to respect that."

  Wyatt walked in and sat down. "What you girls talking about?"

  "Tampons," Ella said.

  "Ugh," he said and got up again. Ella smiled, her arm leaning across the back of the chair next to her as Wyatt walked out of the lunch room again.

  "They never stop being scared of tampons; it's like guy kryptonite."

  "Did you know he does comics?" I asked.

  Ella shrugged, obviously couldn't care less.

  "I think it's cool."

  "Are you into comics?"

  "No. I just think it's cool that he does something, you know?"

  "Whatever," Ella said dismissively.

  *

  I'd stayed well clear of Riley all night, and I felt like a bit of a coward for it. He'd apologized, which was a first and a bit unexpected. It was true though; he'd been a complete ass-wipe. There was like a tentative truce now—until he asked for another cigarette. I should probably just give them to him so he would leave me alone, but it wasn't my style. I am never giving him a cigarette. And he could just suck it.

  He looked up when I walked out of the lunch room and I felt that clench of tension in my gut. I hated that he made me nervous. And it was all his doing. I haven't set this up; it was him, always picking.

  Opening my locker, I shoved my bag in. I could technically get a lock for it, like Matilda had. Creepiness made me wonder what she hid in there, since she needed a lock to keep everyone out. No one else had a lock on theirs, but hers sat there, shiny and new. Maybe she kept murdered animals in there or something.

  I walked back toward the front. The restaurant was slow now, the rush having passed.

  "Hey Pepper," Wyatt called. "From a girl's perspective, would you fuck a guy who wears a headband?"

  "What?" I said with distaste.

  "Like a girl's headband, keep your hair off your face thing."

  "And I would discuss this with you why?"

  "I was just asking."

  "Pepper is too uptight to talk about S-E-X," Riley said in a loud whisper.

  "Fuck off, Riley."

  "Oh," he said, retreating like I'd smacked him on the hand. "Naughty words. Don't look quite right coming out of such an innocent mouth."

  He was taking a shot at me again and I stared at him hard, hopefully informing him exactly what I thought of him. "You're a dick."

  He took a step around so he faced me squarely, then pushed the waistband of his pants down until I saw his cock, nestled on a bed of curls. Not all the way down to the tip, just the base of it.

  "For God's sake, pull your pants up, Riley," Julian shouted from inside his office.

  "She asked to see my dick," he sounded back.

  "Fuck off."

  "No, that's what I heard, 'Can I see your dick?'"

  I narrowed my eyes at him, giving him the filthiest look I could muster, but he only leered in this kind of condescending way before turning his back on me.

  "About the headband thing," Wyatt said.

  "Shut your face, Wyatt," I said with exasperation as I marched off. "Couple of fucking muppets," I griped as I unlocked my register. My anger didn't subside; it only built.

  *

  I pushed the door to the back open, knowing Julian was there and I marched out, standing in front of him and crossing my arm, waiting until the door slowly closed again. "Seriously, can anyone get away with anything here?"

  Julian sat with his legs crossed, his cigarette resting between his thumb and forefinger. He sighed. "What would you like me to do, Pepper?" he said.

  "He just exposed himself and you just let him get away with it."

  "If you like, you can fill out a complaint form and I can march in there and fire him. Because that is the only option I have if you complain. I can go get one for you right now if you want
. Then I am obligated to offer some counselling for you to overcome the trauma of seeing a guy's cock, something I'm sure you've never had to endure before," he said sarcastically, taking another drag of his cigarette and I just stared at him.

  "You're just condoning it?"

  "I'm not condoning anything. I'm just telling you that if you complain, I have to fire him. You are perfectly within your rights to do so, as the injured party. Hell, you could even press criminal charges. And if you are feeling particularly vindictive, and shed a few tears, you might even get him on the sex offender registry. If he was then truthful, which he rarely is, he probably won't get another job in a hurry."

  "I'm not responsible for that," I said sharply and he just looked at me with disappointment. "I just want you to tell him off so he doesn't do it again.” Getting him fired was a bit much. Was there no middle ground here, where common sense existed?

  "Well, unfortunately there is no in between; I only have one option open to me. This isn't school; I can't put him in detention." He threw the cigarette down and squashed it under his shoe.

  "Maybe he shouldn't be working here."

  "No, probably not. Maybe we should just get rid of people like Riley, who just won't follow the rules. Matilda too, because she's not right. Wyatt because he can't follow a thought consecutively. Deseree ‘cause her fucking kids are always sick. Let's just get rid of them. Never mind there is nowhere for them to go, because this is the last stop already, the bottom of the barrel."

  I huffed, I was so pissed off. I didn't come out here for a lecture on social policy. This was bullshit. I forced myself to calm. "Maybe someone needs to tell him that when he does shit like that, he opens himself up to being fired." I was about to march back inside, truly hacked off that I was given nothing reasonable to address this situation.

  "Riley isn't stupid," Julian said as I was punching in the code for the door. "He's fully aware of what he just did and the consequences he opened himself up to."

  "Then why do it?"

  "Maybe he wants to see what you'll do." Julian shrugged. "He's knows he just gave you power over him. Maybe he wants to see what you'll do with it."