Trouble No More by Mark Westmoreland

Author:Mark Westmoreland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

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Midnight Rider

Christopher Swann

Cassandra checked the hot dogs rotating on their metal grill, blood-red and sweating under the heat lamp. She squatted and gripped the ten-gallon tub of nacho cheese and, with a grunt, lifted it onto the counter. With a plastic ladle, she scooped out a few globs of processed orange cheese, plopping them into the stockpot, and then lowered the tub back to the floor. She took a plastic bag of hot dog buns from a drawer and lay it next to the stockpot, then checked her station. The stainless-steel counter was already wiped down, the napkin box stuffed. The hot dog chili was full, and nobody ate it anyway. The mustard, ketchup, and relish were all good. She smiled, satisfied.

Behind the cash register, slouched against the magazine rack, Kenny snorted. “That’s A-plus work there, Miss Cassandra. Must be proud.”

Cassandra flushed, equal parts embarrassment and anger. “Got to be proud of something.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Kenny said, standing up off the magazine rack. The plastic sleeves that held the magazines clung to his back for a moment before peeling away. “Forgot how much pride means to you, your daddy bein’ a deputy and all. Must be proud of him, sure. Must feel like a step down, workin’ in a dump like this.”

Cassandra turned from him and opened her backpack, her hair hanging down over her face, hiding her reddening cheeks. She had no time for these opening salvos of Kenny’s. Her term paper was due in two weeks.

“Yeah, it’s a dump all right,” Kenny said behind her, speaking now to the empty convenience store, its silent shelves of Funyuns and beef jerky and cell phone chargers. “What my uncle saw in this place, I don’t have the next goddamn idea.”

Kenny’s uncle, Max, who owned the store, had heavy jowls and a bad combover but treated Cassandra with courtly politeness, asking about her family when interviewing her for the part-time job. “Family is so important,” Uncle Max had wheezed, dropping a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. Kenny managed a crooked smile that made Cassandra blush. She covered that up by talking about her daddy, which was how Kenny knew he’d been a deputy. Uncle Max had shown Cassandra the store, apologizing for its shabbiness while clearly proud of what he had managed for thirty years. “But my doctor says I have heart problems, so it’s time for me to step back,” he’d said. “The world is for the young,” he added, gesturing at Kenny and Cassandra. Max had hired Cassandra on the spot. At the time, Cassandra mistook that as a stroke of good luck.

Kenny continued his rant from behind the cash register. “Thought he’d make a fortune pumpin’ gas and sellin’ Snickers bars, and now he’s worthless as a flat tire, coughin’ all damn night, leavin’ me here to work alone.”

If I didn’t need the money, I’d walk right now, Cassandra thought. But she did need the money. She was down to searching the couch for coins. Her roommate Libby thought she was exaggerating.

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