Page 17 of The Billionaire's Fortunate Accident
More wailing followed, then Josie whimpered, “I burned the shit out of my hand. I knocked the damn seasoning off the top shelf and onto the hot grill, and when I tried to pick it up, it slipped. Then I tried to grab it with my bare hand, and I ended up planting my hand on the grill instead.”
“Are you okay, Josie?” came Jessa’s voice. “I heard all kinds of racket out here.”
Josie’s voice trembled as she said, “I’ve burned my hand, Jessa. Look.”
“Let me get the burn gel,” Jessa said. “Tammy, see if you can find a cook to come in tonight. Once I treat her burn, Josie’s going home. Josie, come to my office with me so I can take care of you.”
“Great, so I have to make calls to the three other cooks at eleven on a Friday night.” I watched her as she went to the corner near the drive-thru window and picked up the phone that hung on the wall. Running her finger down a list of what I assumed were employee’s phone numbers, she stopped on one then punched the numbers into the old-timey phone. “Ancient piece of shit.” Tammy had her usual crankiness going on. “Hey, Troy, can you come work?”
I watched her shoulders slumping and knew Troy wasn’t giving her the answer she was looking for. And when she put down the phone without saying another word, I got the impression he’d even hung up on her. The two next calls weren’t even answered, and she freaked after the beeping sound of someone at the drive-thru startled her. Her eyes went to the little pile of burgers that lay wrapped in yellow paper under a heat lamp.
I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had to at least offer my help. So, I got up, shoved my cell into my back pocket, and walked up to the counter. “I can help out.”
She looked at me with skeptical eyes. “Sure you can, lover-boy.” She pushed the button on the speaker. “Welcome to Hamburger Hut, where the customer is number one and so are the burgers. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have six cheeseburgers, six large fries, and six Mountain Dews,” the customer said, then added, “Oh, and six apple pies. And can you make sure they’re freshly fried for us?”
I counted four ready burgers in the little pile under the heat lamp. There weren’t many fries ready either. The place where I assumed fried apple pies usually waited was empty. Tammy was in a pickle. “Let me help. I can cook. I am a chef, after all.”
“I don’t see what choice I have. Come on back here. The aprons are over there.” She pointed at some grease-spotted black aprons hanging from a nail on the back wall. “I keyed in the order, so you’ll see it on the screen that’s hanging to one side of the griddle. I need two burgers to add to what I’ve already got, and while you make them, I’ll get to the fries, apple pies, and drinks.”
I’d only had one burger from this place. And since there had been the extra critter in it, I hadn’t even had a chance to see what was inside. “Do you guys put everything on the burger or what?”
“Meat, cheese, ketchup, and mustard is all they get if they don’t specifically ask for veggies.” Tammy raced around, getting the fries and pies into fryers before she got started on the drinks.
I had the little burgers ready in a flash, then started bagging up the order. Another beep came from the drive-thru, and at the same time, the door dinged as it opened, and four people walked in. “Crap,” Tammy hissed.
“I can take these guys’ orders while you take the one at the window. Then I’ll go back and start cooking everything up. Don’t panic.” I’d worked for a short time at a fast food place back home in Houston when I was a teenager. I thought it had to be a lot like riding a bicycle — once you learn how to do it, you never forget. “Hi, welcome to Hamburger Hut, where the customer is number one and so are our burgers. Or something like that. What can I get you?” The computer screen made it so easy that even a monkey could’ve run it.I have this in the bag.
Slurring a little, the first girl in the line said, “Chicken fingers.”
I looked at the screen. “Four or six pieces?”
She looked over her shoulder at the other girl. “How many should I get? Do you wanna share?”
“Get six, girl,” her friend said. “I’m starving.”
She turned to look at me. “Six.” Smiling, she seemed to have finally really noticed me. “Hey! You’re cute. Like really hot. When did you start working here?”
“I don’t work here. I’m just helping out for a bit. Been partying at one of the clubs around here?” I pressed the six-piece chicken fingers button on the screen, and the amount of money it cost popped up.
“Yeah, we were at Spangles and Spurs. It was ragin’, man. But,” she jerked her thumb at the girl standing behind her, “this one got the munchies. So here we are. I’m gonna want some cheese sticks and onion rings too.”
“What sizes?”
“The big size.” She hiccupped. “And some coke as well. Large.” She pulled a little silver flask out of the pocket of her baggy cargo pants. “We’ll be making our own cocktails if you care to join us.”
“Not sure that’s allowed.” I keyed in her order. “Sixteen fifty-five.”
“Wow, that’s pretty high.” She pulled out a credit card from another pocket on her many-pocketed pants. “But okay.”
“It’s the cheese sticks that cost so much. I guess they think they’re the best ever around here.” I swiped her card. “Here you go. Your order will be out as soon as I can get it for you.”
“See you at our table soon, handsome.” She walked away, making sure to shake her bony ass.
“Okay, I need some food, and I need it now,” the next girl in line said with such sassiness it nearly made me laugh.
“K. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do my best to get it to you fast.”
