I Am Not Uptight!

The Zoo part 3

Dustin couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Gary and Daniel—those two egg heads nearing their thirties—truly knew how to get a rise out of him. For that, Dustin had to applaud them, but much like many things in life that are “Give and Take,” they will surely receive an adequate and befitting response to the stunt they just pulled. Just they wait…

Dustin was already beginning to plot his revenge of an equal—if not a more drastic—proportion by the time he spotted the snack bar. There was a growing number of people falling in line, and in front of it was unmistakably their housemate. 

Wells barely acknowledged Dustin when he stood next to him to see what was going on. The man just stood there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching the employees move faster than Dustin had ever seen part-time snack bar employees work—all obviously out of fear.

“Hey, they sent me to check in on you, and Gary said to remind you to make sure there’s relish in his hotdogs,” Dustin informed him. When that did not get a response, he added, “What’s taking you so long?”

“They ordered too much,” was all Wells said, which explained to Dustin why there were a number of trays filled to the brim on the serving counter—trays that the understaffed workers were still adding to in a hurry.

“Geez, who ordered all this?” he asked, taking a potato chip while no one was looking. Wells didn’t say anything. Instead, he showed him his phone which displayed a few long messages from Gary—all to specify the food he wanted.

“Damn,” Dustin muttered, “it’s like that guy's stomach is a pit.”

As he said that, one of the two employees finally printed out a receipt and handed it to Wells.

“Here you go, sir. We are so sorry it took so long,” the kid—probably still in high school working there to earn some extra pocket money—forced a smile with his cheeks very slightly quivering. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction to Wells’s presence, as Dustin had found. In fact, most of them tiptoed around the guy when he first moved in until they eventually got kind of used to it. So, it was completely understandable why these young people behind the counter looked frightened. Wells looked like he was blessed with the good parts of his parents' genes, but he also looked like he could break a person's neck with ease and without hesitation. It also didn’t help that the man never smiled—like his face was superglued into that one bored expression.

“H-here are orders of Combo A, one of Duo C, one with extra caramelized onions and hot sauce,” the employee spoke fast as he pointed out everything, “the other with extra ketchup, two Solo Bs, one with extra butter and one without salt, and an additional XL soda with less ice.”

“Are we feeding an entire team or what?” Dustin thought out loud, wondering how they would be able to carry all of that without spilling anything.

“I-is everything good, sir?” the kid asked, noticing that Wells was inspecting the take-away bags.

“You didn’t give us napkins.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” he replied like he truly meant it. He quickly grabbed the napkin dispenser beside him and tried to pull out a few, but with shaking hands, they kept on getting crumpled or torn. In a totally unnecessary growing state of panic, he resorted to taking off the dispenser’s cover. He took all of its contents out and offered it to Wells with both hands, saying, “Please, take all this,” as if they were being held at gun-point.

Wells stared the kid down and let out a sigh, which did nothing good. That was when Dustin decided to step in and say, “Just a few will do, thanks,” while grabbing a handful of napkins from him then stuffing it into a random take-away bag.

Wells grabbed a few bills from his wallet and placed it on the counter before taking three of the bags. Dustin took two bags for himself and checked the amount that Wells gave—a habit of his to make sure everyone tipped workers adequately. Dustin's eyes widened as he found that Wells gave thrice the amount he should, but the man was already a few steps away. 

“You,” Dustin hissed at him as he caught up, “you tipped way too much!”

“Did I?” was all Wells said, although it didn’t sound like a question and he just kept on walking undisturbed. Dustin looked at him weirdly. Money didn’t seem to be a matter to him, and yet he was living with other strangers in some house. Dustin was willing to bet that it was either one of the two:

A. Wells had just won a gambling bet in some underground casino, and so he can’t store the money in a proper bank to get a nice credit score that would get him a good apartment of his own, or

B. He just got paid for an illegal job and he’s in hiding, so he can’t store the money in a proper bank to get a nice credit score that would get him an apartment of his own.

Either way, there was something fishy with the entire situation, and his suspicions only grew because of what happened next. 

They had just stopped at a vending machine because Dustin wanted some sweets. He asked Wells if he could bum off a few coins to buy a chocolate bar since he didn’t have his wallet on him. Wells gave him a large bill without batting an eye.

“I'll pay you back later,” Dustin said, but Wells didn’t seem interested—in fact, he wasn’t listening at all. Not a second later, they heard a woman from the crowd call out, “Richard?”

Her voice was quite loud that it made Dustin glance at her, only to see that she was looking right at them—or Wells, to be precise. She had on this plain blue sweater and skirt under a coat, but Dustin was willing to bet good money that that sweater cost more than his entire wardrobe. It took one look at her to see the air of wealth and privilege she carried—especially with that one girl behind her who was obviously carrying her bag for her, and that one guy with them that was holding a camera. 

“Richard?” she repeated with a wide smile on her beautiful face as she walked towards them. She really was looking at Wells, only she was calling him by a different name.

Wells, upon seeing this, placed the bags he was carrying on top of Dustin's arms. “Go ahead,” he said.

“But my chocolate bar!” Dustin hissed in protest. Although in all honesty, he was just using it then as an excuse to see where this whole Richard thing was going.

Without another word, Wells moved quickly as he fed the machine a bill, clicked a button, then placed the bar on top of the other things Dustin was carrying. 

The woman was now just a few steps away, but before Dustin could say anything, Wells immediately approached her and steered her away.

“But how about your companion?” she asked, looking back at Dustin.

“He was just leaving,” Wells said, placing a hand on her back to lead her farther away.

“Rude,” Dustin muttered to himself, but with the mountain of take-away food he was carrying and the sure signs that his presence was not welcome, he decided not to interfere. He tried to listen in but their conversation was soon covered by the noise from the other zoo goers. He did, however, see something that made his eyes go wide.

More than one month Wells had stayed with them, but it was the first time that he had seen the man's facial muscles move to create a small, polite smile—something he thought that he was incapable of doing.