“Simon—” Bea starts, but she’s cut off as the woman blurts, “Two. Two burgers and fries.”
“Certainly, madame. And make sure to tip your cook well. She’s adopted one too many kittens, and one has special needs.”
“Simon,” Bea hisses.
I ignore her and hold the tablet out the window for the customer to pay for two burger baskets. “Do tell your friends that I shall be here all day.”
She nods at my chest.
Bea shoves an apron at me. “Two burgers and fries, coming right up,” she says. “And when the kids are turned loose for lunch, you’re putting your shirt on.”
“Why must you be so prudish about bodies? They’re natural.”
“Yours could cause car accidents,” the customer says.
“Why, thank you. Though I can hardly take credit. Most of this is genetics.”
“I did my dissertation on your mother’s artwork,” she says.
Well.
This has certainly taken an unpleasant turn.
Must my mother have been famous first in her own right? “How lovely.”
I wave at three people standing a short distance away from the food vans, seemingly contemplating which one they should pick. “Free autographs with burger purchases,” I call.
“Simon,” Bea hisses again from the grill, where several burgers are sizzling happily. “I’m just starting to make headway with being friendly with the rest of the food truck owners. Maybe don’t stealallof the customers?”
Bah. That’s easily enough solved. We shall simply sell out first, and then I’ll assist the rest of the food vendors.
Which I will tell her later. “You’re very particular.”
“I have to live here after you leave.”
“But do you? You could move closer to your middle brother and travel the country with him to explore new places. Or attend university anywhere you wish if that’s necessary for your goals. Or take a gap year and travel the entire world looking for unexpected adventures.”
“Gap years are usually for college-aged kids. I’m a little older than that.”
“It seems far more useful when applied to fully formed adults facing significant life changes though, does it not?” I ask her.
Our customer blinks at me. “You aresoright. I should do a gap year when my daughter graduates high school.”
I smile back. “You’re welcome.”
The three people who seemed undecided a moment ago approach the window.
“Do you have any secret menu items today?” one of the two ladies in the bunch asks.
I lean back. “Bea? Secret menu items?”
“Fish on a stick.”
“Truly?”
“Yep. Limited supply. Ten orders total.”
“Brilliant.” I turn back to the window. “I’ll answer your question if you each agree to tell two friends that they need to have lunch in this car park today.”
