Bile rose in my throat in remembrance. “Mrs. Garber’s Friday Lunch Surprise.”
“Fish stick burritos.”
I did a full-body shiver before putting the phone in my pocket and opening the door to the restaurant. The smell of fried foods, weak alcohol, and cheap cologne hit me in a wave. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the dimly lit room. There was a handful of people and groups scattered throughout the diner, and my very loud crew was lounging around a table near the bar, laughing at something.
Javier noticed us first, standing up to greet us. “Hey, boss. When’d you get here?”
I moved to shake his hand and introduced Jake, who made himself at home, shaking hands all around. Javier was a year younger than me. Tall, dark, curly hair, strong chin, good looking, and told me every day he was gunning for my job. Maybe one day, he would get it. While I loved working with Chase, running my own crew on my own terms would be a dream come true for me. Javier and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but we respected the crap out of each other.
“About an hour ago. Have you guys already eaten?”
“Unfortunately.” He made a face. “Don’t get the meatloaf sandwich. I don’t care what they say; there was something not right with it.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Turning to Jake, I asked, “I’m ordering. What do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
The Grub Shack was something of a bar and diner mix. The kind of place you find in a town too small to handle both. The rest of the crew was engrossed in something probably annoying, so I made my way to the bar where a barrel-chested man stood behind the counter. He poured drinks for customers sitting at the counter in a rush, while also manning the stovetop, flipping burgers. I waited for him to take notice I was there and greet me, but he never did.
“Hey, Chad. Good to see you.”
The man looked up and stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time before the light dawned in his eyes. “Hey, Marten. How’s it going?”
We stood in the awkward silence of old acquaintances attempting to re-acquaint. Chad was a few years older than me, and he went to state all three years in wrestling. We didn’t run in the same circles, but I do remember playing a few pickup games of football with him a time or two. My shoulders still ached thinking about his tackles. Our interaction had probably ended, but I felt a sort of kinship to this man in front of me. Most of the guys my age were married with kids. Some had big hot-shot careers, and my social media was flooded with pictures of suburbia and fancy vacations. It was nice seeing a normal, run-of-the-mill guy with no wife or kids and a decent job.
Guys like us needed more representation in the world.
“Whatcha want?” Chad’s grizzly-bear eyes landed on mine impatiently.
My stomach rumbled. I peered closer at the stove. Certainly itlookedlike regular meat. A hamburger was just about the most basic thing to cook. People were usually safe with a hamburger and fries. Right?
A tall, pretty redhead tucked into a tank top and tight jeans breezed past my elbow, coming to stand next to the man. “Chad, we talked about this. You don’t speak to the customers. I do.” She flashed me a brilliant smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I liked her already.
“What can I make Chad make for you?”
The beast of a man grumbled but said nothing. My focus wasn’t on him anymore but a pair of interested blue eyes. The feeling was mutual.
I took a seat at the counter, my feet sticking to the floor as I stepped. I was once again grateful I had grown up on a farm. Germs didn’t scare me.
“What’s good here?”
I tried to ask my question quietly, giving the impression I wanted honesty, but Chad looked annoyed for a split second before saying, “Depends on who you ask.” He nodded toward a table in the center of the room. “Don’t ask the blonde over there.” He seemed so offended I instinctively turned around to look. Sitting with her back to me was a woman with slender shoulders and blonde hair in a ponytail. She didn’t seem especially scary, but due to my own experience with a certain blonde woman, I was inclined to believe him.
“Focus, Chad.” The woman pointed at his burgers, and the man went back to his stovetop. She leaned toward me, her elbows on the counter, giving me ample opportunity to check out more than just her face. I kept my gaze focused on her bright eyes as she whispered, “Everybody likes the fries.”
Chad flipped the burgers on the grill. One patty broke in half, and I watched as he used his meaty fingers to squish it back together.
She followed my gaze. “Hot dogs are usually a safe bet since there’s little one has to do to make them edible.”
“Hot dog and fries it is. And one order of the biggest and grossest thing you guys serve here for my brother. With some fries.” Jake wasn’t my brother, but he might as well have been, and I couldn’t have the lady thinking I was ordering an extra meal for a date.
Grinning, she shouted out an order of a hot dog and a large meatloaf sandwich to Chad before grabbing a cloth and wiping down the bar.
“I don’t see a name tag.”
“It’s Jen.” She eyed me critically. “Are you passing through, or…?”
“I grew up here. I live in Boise, but I’m here all summer.”
