Chapter Thirty-Seven
Joesph stood up, startled as two big men came in the back door. They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts. “Is Sergeant Jones around?” The big blonde man asked.
“Right here, Jenkins,” Mike answered as he walked in from the dining room. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem, Sarg.” The other man, who was so Black he looked like he could have been carved from black shiny marble. “The other two are backing the truck in.”
“Good deal.” He motioned to all the kitchen equipment. “All this needs to go on the truck.”
“Right. I brought my toolbox.” Jenkins went over to the big stove. “We need to find the gas cutoff.”
“I’ll get the toolbox.” The Black man said. He gave Joesph a big smile. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” Joesph watched the guy leave. “Uh... who are these guys?” He directed the question to Mike.
“They’re in my platoon. I make up the schedule, and there wasn’t much of anything for them to do other than run drills and take something apart and then put it back together.” Mike smiled. “Sometimes it’s good to be the boss.”
Jenkins held out his hand to Joesph. “Corporal Thomas Jenkins.”
Joesph shook his hand, hoping he wouldn’t get crushed.
“I sure do hope the diner will reopen soon. “It’s the only place in town that has decent biscuits and gravy.”
“It is and it will. Jamie’s biscuits are the best I’ve ever had,” Joesph assured the man.
“And the sooner we get this old equipment out of here, the sooner we can all get our fix,” Mike said.
“We’re on it, Sarg.” Jenkins turned back to the big stove.
“Who’s the other man?” Joesph asked Mike in a whisper. “Is he single?”
Mike laughed. “Sorry, Earl has a wife and two kids.”
“Damn,” Joesph sighed.
Earl returned with the toolbox and two other equally big men. Jenkins and Earl had the stove pulled out from the wall and moved to disconnect the industrial stove. “See if one of you can’t find the gas cutoff,” Jenkins said. “And we need to get the dollies in here.”
“Hey, Mike,” one of the construction guys called from the dining room. “I think we’re all set here. If all this equipment gets moved out by noon, I can have a crew in here this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Jim.” Mike shook the man’s hand. “That’s music to my ears. I knew I could count on you.”
“Yep, my pleasure. You and your guys have helped me out in the past, so it’s good to be able to help you out for a change.”
“Gas is off,” one of the Army guys shouted from the back door. “Tailgate of the truck is down and ready.”
“Okay, get ready then,” Jenkins called out. “This stove is ready to load up. It’s heavy. It’ll take all four of us to get it secured in the truck.”
Joesph watched as piece by piece, all the old industrial cooking equipment was hauled out. The only things left in the kitchen were the stainless-steel benches and racks that had held cookware. It was all pushed against the very back wall of the kitchen.
“Nice to have met you,” Jenkins said before leaving. “Tell the new owner he owes us a big breakfast when you get reopened.”
“I’m sure he’ll have no issue with that. Thanks for the help.” Joesph shook the man’s hand. “Where are you taking all that stuff?”
“Sarg found a women’s shelter that needed equipment like this, so it’s being donated.”
“It will give Jamie a tax break, too,” Mike added. He shook Jenkins’s hand. “Thanks a lot guys. Have you talked to Hasha?”
“Nope. Not seen him,” Jenkins said.
“Okay. I’ll give him a call,” Mike said as he took his phone from his pocket.
Joesph wondered how he even got it into his pocket those shorts were so tight around his thick legs.
“Bye,” Joesph said, walking Jenkins to the door, and then looked back at the kitchen. “Wow,” he said. “That was... amazing.”
* * * * *
Jamie opened the door to his apartment. He stopped just inside. “Well crap!”
“What?” Salzy asked, then looked over Jamie’s shoulder. “Oh.”
The apartment had obviously been broken into, and the place was a shambles.
“It’s...” Jamie whispered.
“Damn. I’m sorry, Jamie.”
Jamie shrugged. “Well, it’ll make packing that much easier.”
“What all is missing?” Salzy asked as he pushed the cushions back onto the small sofa. “I hate to tell you, but Joesph was right. This stuff is almost as ratty as what you already have.”
“Television, stereo, microwave...” Jamie moved from room to room.
“My printer.” He turned to Salzy. “Most everything but my clothes is going to the dump. Let’s take anything worth anything to the thrift store.
It’s not worth taking back. Do not say anything to Joesph. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Salzy laughed. “Sure. Get your dresser stuff packed up, and I’ll start on the kitchen.” He got the big tape dispenser. “I’ll get some boxes made up.”
They worked in silence. Jamie cleared out the dresser and his closet, discarding things as he went, putting those in trash bags.
“Whew,” Salzy said as he wiped his face with the bottom of the T-shirt he was wearing.
“We’ll have to make two trips to get rid of all this stuff.” Jamie motioned to most of the things piled in the middle of the apartment.
“Why don’t we start with the big stuff first. We can pack smaller things around it. There are bungee cords and rope behind the seat of the truck.”
Jamie nodded and pointed to the small sofa. “That first?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
The two men worked efficiently and well together. It didn’t take long to get the first load ready to go.
“We can get lunch at The Varsity.” Jamie leaned against the side of the truck.
“What’s that?” Salzy climbed into the truck.
“Just the best onion rings you’ll ever have. The hot dogs are great! It’s a true Atlanta icon.”
“What are we waiting for?” Salzy started the truck, and they took off for the thrift store’s receiving station.
* * * * *
Good to his word, Jim from All Around Construction showed up with a crew at exactly twelve noon. Joesph had to move the small table from the back of the kitchen outside. The noise was deafening, and there was dust and flying debris going everywhere.
“You want something to drink?” Mike asked Joesph as he stepped outside, covered in grit and grime.
“I think I should be asking you that.” Joesph laughed. “You are a mess.”
Mike looked down at himself. “I guess I am.”
“Jamie’s got some bottled water in the apartment. I’ll get you one.”
“May I have two, please?”
“Of course.” Joesph went up the stairs to get the water. When he came back down, Mike was talking to another man, who was obviously Army also.
“Joesph, this is Hasha. Hasha, Joesph.” Mike took the bottles of water from Joesph, downing the first one and opening the second.
“Nice to meet you,” Hasha said, shaking Joesph’s hand. He looked at the back door of the diner. “I heard they were gonna rip the place apart. I hope they reopen soon. I do love me some country fried steak.”
“I agree,” Mike said.
“I got the stuff you asked for,” Hasha said. “Mind giving me hand?”
“Sure.” Mike set the second bottle of water on the table where Joesph had been sitting, his computer still open.
“Might need to move this table, though,” Mike indicated the little table. “I think the first one should go here.”
“Let me clear it off,” Joesph said, closing his computer and grabbing the water bottle and the nearly finished glass of Coke he’d been drinking.
“Hasha picked up the table with one hand and the chair with the other. “Where to?”
“Uh, why not put it under the stairs for now?” Mike suggested.
A few moments later, there were two wooden trestle tables and four benches along the back side of the diner.
“Wow, those are great,” Joesph said, inspecting them closer. “Where did these come from?”
“I made them this morning,” Hasha answered. “Could I get a Coke, please?”
Joesph looked in the back door and shook his head. “Sorry, but it looks like the drinks station is out of commission at the moment. The best I can offer is a bottle of water.”
Hasha shrugged. “Okay, that’ll work.”
Joesph handed the water to Hasha. “You made these in one day?”
“Yep.” Hasha drank half the bottle of water. “Woodworking is kinda my thing.”
“I see that.” Joesph was still looking closely at the tables. “This is good quality work. Do you have a shop somewhere?”
Hasha laughed. “I work for the US Army.”
“Hasha is the best woodworker I’ve ever known. It’s like second nature to him. You should see the bridge he and I designed and built. It’s not all that big, but it is a beauty.” Mike smiled at Hasha. “Whenever I need something made of wood, I call on Hasha.”
“To be honest, I was glad to get your call,” he said to Mike. “I was pretty bored. We don’t have any real projects until after Memorial Day.”
“Damn,” Joesph murmured. “I could really use a good craftsman like this.” He stood up, looking at both Mike and Hasha. “It’s hard to find someone with these skills.”
“What do you do?” Hasha asked.
“Technically, I’m an interior architect. It’s a fancy way of saying I’m an interior designer.”
“Oh. Cool.” Hasha drained the rest of the water. “If’n there’s nothin’ else, Sarg?”
“No, nothing else, soldier,” Mike answered.
Hasha saluted the Sergeant and left.
“He’s pretty quiet,” Mike said to Joesph. “Not much of a talker, but he’s damn good at what he does.”
“I see that.” Joesph sat on one of the benches. “Amazing.”