19. Sunday
CHAPTER 19
SUNDAY
D aniel took his spot in the back of the line for The Chuck Wagon already wired from his and Maggie’s morning run. And from their cooldown. He was, apparently, a person who voluntarily went on morning runs now. He even enjoyed them. If you’d told him a month ago?—
“Dude.” Drew waved a hand in front of Daniel’s face. He turned to his best friend to find her eyebrows flirting with her hairline.
“Oh hey!” Daniel said, pushing Drew’s arm out of his line of sight.
“I called your name like four times.”
“Sorry.”
“How’s Maggie?”
If Drew was mind reading now, he was really in trouble. “What?” he asked, attempting innocent confusion.
“Dude.”
“Oh I, uh, just saw her actually.” He sounded very casual. Extremely casual.
Drew sighed and pursed her lips, shaking her head gently.
“What?”
“My bad, man. I should have seen this coming,” Drew said, stepping forward as the person ahead of her did the same. Even a long line usually only meant a five or six minute wait, but the pace felt like a crawl today.
“Seen what coming?”
“It’s not that you just don’t usually do flings. You can’t.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m doing a fling right now. Or, friends with benefits. If that’s different.”
“Mmm. Nope.”
“Nope?” Daniel was surprised to realize he was a little offended. Drew was making this sound like a character flaw.
“Maggie is having a fling. You are…not.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Hey! It’s the pulled pork jackfruit sandwiches!” Drew was genuinely thrilled when she spotted Jake at the pickup window laying three red and white paper trays piled high with barbecue and fries on the counter.
Daniel tried to catch their friend’s eye to say hello, but he was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. He’d looked harried.
As the line crept forward again, Daniel turned back to Drew and their interrupted conversation. “What do you mean I can’t have a fling?”
“I mean you’re…feelings forward.”
“Feelings forward?” Daniel raised a brow.
“I’m a bartender, not a therapist. What do you want from me?” And then Drew was distracted by food again. “Oh hey! The jackfruit is blackboard menu official!”
Daniel spent the rest of the wait half-listening to Drew talk about her newest vegan home brew.
Finally, they reached the service window, where a sweaty Jake was taking orders with his usually neatly gelled hair dramatically askew.
“Hey y’all. The usual?”
“No, actually, the jackfruit for me. Menu official!” Drew was practically salivating.
Jake mumbled something, took down the order, and hung the ticket next to the grill before ringing them up.
“Are you…alone here?” Daniel asked, as Jake moved to flip two burger patties and lay a slice of cheese on top of a third.
“Had to send Penny to the market. I underestimated the popularity of the jackfruit by…a lot.” Jake called over his shoulder.
“Alright, well, we’ll leave you to it,” Drew said.
“If you see Chuck, please tell him I have everything under control.”
Daniel sidestepped the request. “How long until Penny gets back?” Chuck was loud and demonstrative, but Jake usually had an almost preternatural calm. Daniel was a little concerned.
“I don’t know…” Jake said, looking at his watch. “Maybe another ten minutes?”
“Let me take orders.”
“You don’t know how to work the register.”
“Great. I’ll slow everything down while you catch up on the grill and later you can apologize to your customers for your terrible new employee who was immediately fired.”
Daniel didn’t give Jake time to refuse the offer. He just walked around to the door at the side of the truck and let himself in.
He managed to take four orders by the time Penny got back. Well, three distinct orders. The first one he’d had to cancel and take a second time. Penny almost sprinted over to the Wagon from her hatchback carrying an enormous tub of already marinating jackfruit, having apparently mixed the ingredients together in the grocery store parking lot to get a head start on flavor development. He suspected that was against food service regulations, but who was he to say? She slipped past him to take his place at the register. Jake nodded at Penny, but remained hunched over the grill like adding his own body heat might make the hamburger patties cook faster, so Daniel gave him a goodbye pat on the shoulder. Jake grunted and slid Daniel a paper tray with a piping hot barbecue pork sandwich and a matching one with what looked to be the last of the original batch of barbecue jackfruit.
Daniel found Drew sitting at a picnic table staring down her phone like it might bite. There was really only one person that put that look on her face. Her ex. As he slid onto the bench next to her, he raised both eyebrows in a silent “what’s up?” He never actually verbalized the question because when Drew had abruptly shown up on his doorstep, said she was filing for divorce, and asked if she could sleep on his couch for a while, he had, indeed asked what was up. She’d told him that she didn’t want to talk about it. After the fifth time she’d told him that, he’d stopped trying to draw her out and started hoping that, if he raised his eyebrows inquisitively enough times, she’d eventually decide to tell him what the hell was going on. So far, no such luck.
Today, as usual, Drew ignored the eyebrows. She took a comically large bite of her sandwich and chewed more slowly than was, perhaps, strictly necessary. When she finished, all she said was: “The thing is — in relationships, the one who cares less always wins.”
“I didn’t realize it was a competiton,” Daniel said, reaching for his own sandwich. He diverted, at the last moment, to grabbing some fries. For some reason, he suddenly wasn’t very hungry.