Sugar and Spice

Can I Get One of Those? - Jay

The lunch shift ended. Geri pulled me into the office to write out a tentative schedule and show me the employee scheduling app. By the time I clocked out, Cole had already vanished. I glanced around, almost disappointed. Mallory wasn’t in the lobby.

As I stepped into the cool, Florida February air, I spotted Cole. He stood on the far side of the parking lot, behind a row of low bushes next to the half-wall that separated Stella Cucina’s parking lot from Sonic. A lit cigarette dangled between his lips as he surveyed the space between the bushes and the wall.

I charged across the parking lot, and dove face first into the bushes. Cole just stood there, brows arched high above the rim of his glasses. Slowly, he reached up and took the cigarette between his fingers.

I pushed myself up, not bothering to brush the leaves off my button-down. “Can I get one of those?” I asked.

“Yeah, man, sure,” he huffed, amusement filtering through his voice as he held the pack out to me. He moved a few steps away and flopped back against the wall, resting lazily as if he owed the world nothing.

I lit the cigarette and tossed the pack back as I sat across from him. “You done for the day?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Same.”

“Just waiting on my dad,” he added without prompting. “He works across the street at Vinny’s.”

I took a long drag. The smoke hit my lungs and finally, the tightness of the shift bled out of my shoulders. I looked at Cole. He was the quiet type. The guy who did his job so well you forgot he was there. The total opposite of the Missile Scientist.

“So,” I said, blowing a cloud of smoke out toward the Sonic sign. “The girl at the front, Mallory… is she always that… high-strung?”

Cole let out a short, dry laugh. “Not at all, man. You found a way under her skin though, let me tell you. I’ve never seen her that tense before. She’s been here two years and she’s never had a hair out of place or a seating error though.”

“Two years?” I whistled. “That’s a long time to be worrying about breadsticks.”

“She’s saving up,” Cole said, looking at his shoes. “She’s got big plans. Kingsport, I think. Something about college. She’s not like us, Jay, even if she moves like she owns the lobby.”

I looked through the bushes, back at the heavy wooden doors of Stella Cucina. Passing through. Everyone was passing through this town, it felt like. Emerald Bay was just a pit stop for people on their way to something better.

“She’s cute when she’s mad though,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “Like a tiny, angry kitten.”

Cole snorted, “Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll coax Geri into making you clean the grease traps with a toothbrush.”

Silence fell over us while the sounds of the Emerald Bay traffic hummed in the distance.

“Hey,” Cole said, stubbing out his cigarette before pulling out a dispensary tube. “You actually do know how to bus right? Because Mallory was about ten seconds away from a meltdown when those tables weren’t turning.”

I grinned, watching him light up. “I know how to work, Cole. I just like seeing how people react when things aren’t perfect. Keeps life interesting, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer right away, just took a long hit off the joint before offering it to me. “Maybe,” he exhaled. “But Mallory likes perfect. If you’re going to survive until the server class in March, you might wanna learn how to fake it.”

Before I could say anything else, Cole’s phone rang. He answered, and I could hear a high-pitched, tinny voice on the other end asking where he was.

“By the wall next to Sonic,” he answered, forcing himself up to his feet. He waved, and I turned to see Riley walking across the lot, adjusting his glasses as he went.

Riley sat on the ground, groaning as he stretched his legs out, and I offered him the joint. “Well, this is a nice little spot,” he observed.

Cole nodded, “We could probably snag a couple of milk crates the next time the truck comes in, use them as chairs out here.”

“Dad on his way?”

Cole shrugged, “I texted him, but I haven’t heard anything.”

Riley nodded as he handed Cole the joint.

A few moments later, a blue Chevy pulled in to the Murphy’s parking lot behind us. “There’s dad,” Cole said, climbing back to his feet again. “Have fun with your double,” he told Riley before turning to me. “See you tomorrow, Jay.”

Riley took the joint from Cole, looking more like his brother in the dimming afternoon light than he had in the restaurant. He took a slow, methodical hit, his shoulders dropping two inches.

“So,” Riley said, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted towards the Sonic drive through. “You’re the one making Mallory’s eye twitch? Bold move for a first day.”

I leaned back onto my elbows, feeling the buzz start to settle behind my eyes. It was a relief to be away from dirty dishes and the smell of endless breadsticks. “I wasn’t trying to make her twitch. The girl needs to breathe. She’s got all that energy bottled up; it’s gotta be exhausting.”

Riley chuckled, a low sound that lacked Cole’s cynicism. “Mallory doesn’t breathe, she coordinates. She’s the only reason this ship hasn’t sunk since the old GM quit last summer. If she’s hard on you, it’s only because she’s harder on herself.”

He handed the joint back to me. I looked at the glowing cherry on the end of it. “She really going to Kingsport?”

“That’s the rumor. She has a folder in the host stand full of brochures and financial aid forms. Housing stuff. She’s got one foot out the door already. She’s just trying to survive Emerald Bay long enough to get there.”

I looked through the bushes again. I wasn’t going back in there until tomorrow. My shift was over, and my only plan was to find some tacos, and maybe a pier to sit on. But the thought of Mallory sitting in there, looking at brochures for a city three hundred miles away, stuck with me.

“Well,” I said, handing the remains back to Riley. “She’s got a long way to go if she thinks she can control every rotation between here and Kingsport.”

Riley checked his watch then stood, brushing leaves off his pants. “See you tomorrow, Jay. Try to be on time. For your own sake.”

“I’ll consider it,” I lied with a grin.

I watched as he headed back into the restaurant. I stayed behind for a few more minutes, feeling the wind on my face before I headed for my beat-up old car.

The next morning, the Florida sun was already aggressive. I pulled into the lot, miraculously only five minutes later this time. I walked through the back door, passing the prep station where one of the prep cooks, Eli, was already mid-argument with a stack of onions.

He was short, skinny, and full of Greek fire. He was the “cool uncle” of the kitchen that everyone turned to. “New guy,” he grunted, not looking up from his knife work. “You’re late. Mallory’s already been asking where the ‘Chaos Factor’ was.

“Good to know I was missed,” I grinned, looping my apron over my neck.

I headed to the lobby, feeling a strange jolt of anticipation. I rounded the corner, expecting to see the back of Mallory’s head as she hovered over the tablet. Instead, I found her in the dining room, staring at one of the windows. Someone had written “Free Breadsticks or Riot” on the glass with a red crayon, decorated with little hearts.

Mallory turned as she heard my footsteps. Her face was a mask of pure, cold fury, but her green eyes were bright. “Jay,” her voice was dangerously calm. “Tell me you didn’t.”

I looked at the window, then back at her. I hadn’t. But the fact that she immediately assumed it was me was too good of an opportunity to pass up. “It’s called marketing, Mallory. Gives the place a little soul.”

Cole was approaching from the opposite side, carrying a spray bottle and a rag. He sighed, shaking his head as soon as the words left my mouth.