Chapter Twelve
Quinn has an eerie feeling himself when he sees the drab factory in the distance.
The feeling collides with the growl from his stomach.
He hasn’t eaten anything since the pancakes that morning.
It’s then that he decides to make a pit stop at Burger Hut, which also looms ahead in its squat structure.
The place has no seating inside, but he’s in luck when he spots a friendly face working the drive-thru window.
He calls out to the kid: “Toby!”
The boy’s earnest expression looks out at nothing, not seeing Quinn at first. Toby’s face lights up when he finally notices Quinn.
“Boss! You’re back.” He leans out the window, motions with his full arm for Quinn to come over.
Inside, Quinn smiles at the ease with which Toby runs the place. He mindlessly mans the window while flipping burgers and visiting with Quinn. What a difference a year can make. The scene hurts because it reminds Quinn of before.
When there’s a lull in the drive-thru, Toby finds a package of hamburger buns, the freshest ones kept in the back of the pile, and he puts on all the fixings, carefully places a fresh patty on top, the cheese melting down the sides.
“My own creation. Gloria let me add it to the menu, though she wouldn’t let me call it the ‘Toby Burger.’”
Quinn holds it up with both hands and takes a big bite, nods with approval. Toby slides over a Coke, and Quinn washes down the burger with a slurp.
“Damn, Toby, that’s good.” Quinn smiles, looks about. “And I see you’ve gotten the hang of things.”
Toby nods, proudly holds out the name tag on his shirt, which reads MANAGER.
“How are you?” Toby asks.
“Getting by. You?”
“Pretty good. Still don’t have a girlfriend,” Toby says, “but otherwise okay.”
Quinn smiles.
“I, um, tried to talk to you at the funeral,” Toby adds. “But the guard dude, or whatever he was, wouldn’t let me come over…”
“Thank you for coming. It meant a lot,” Quinn says, though he doesn’t remember seeing Toby at the ceremony.
Toby asks him about his plans, but steers clear of Quinn’s stint in juvie. Quinn tells him about joining the army, leaving in two days.
“Are you worried?”
“It’s unlikely I’ll see any combat because—”
“No,” Toby cuts in. “I mean are you worried about your hair, dude? You know they’re gonna shave it.”
Quinn smiles. “It’ll grow back.”
“But dude, it’s hella cool, just the right amount of wisp in the front. I’d kill if I had your hair.”
Quinn smiles.
Toby hesitates for a moment, then says, “I saw your mom that day—the day it happened.”
“Yeah?”
“I stopped by work on my way to school since Pete lost his keys and needed me to let him in. I saw her and someone talking on the sidewalk outside the plant. I thought they were having a smoke break maybe.”
Quinn feels a rush of adrenaline. “Who was she with?”
“I didn’t recognize him. He was tall, wore a suit. I wasn’t really focused on it, so I didn’t get a good look at him.”
“You told the police?”
“Yeah, I told the investigator. He showed me some pictures of people. I recognized some of them, including your mom’s boyfriend. But none of them were the guy.”
Quinn thinks about this. It could be nothing. Or it could be that Toby saw his mom’s killer. A man in a business suit isn’t much to go on.
An awkward silence ensues. That’s interrupted by the chime of the drive-thru.
“Sorry,” he says, “I gotta get back to—” He directs his head to the window, clicks the headset.
“Let me pay you for the burger,” Quinn says.
“It’s on me.” Toby stops, like he’s reminding himself of something. “And I mean that. I know you always said we don’t give away food to our friends. I’ll put the money in the register.”
Quinn feels an unexpected wave of pride. That he passed on something to this kid, the do-the-right-thing creed of his father. He feels like crying for some reason.
“It was great to see you.” Quinn pauses. “Keep up the good work.”
“You too, boss,” Toby says, already turning back to the window, handing a customer a grease-stained bag. “And I’m sure you’ll look cool with the crew cut, I didn’t mean to—”
“Good luck with that girlfriend,” Quinn interrupts. “It’ll happen.”
Toby grins, points at him, and Quinn heads outside.
The scene, the smell of the grease, the sweet kid, nearly levels him. And that’s before he walks past the spot where his mother was hit in the head over and over again with a hammer.