“Gluten-free pizza? My wife’s gluten-sensitive. She’d kill for a pizza.” He pressed his lips together. “I think I would, too.”
A smile spread across my face. I liked that he ate what she did even though he didn’t have any problems.
“What would she like?” Hank asked.
Ruiz’ mouth worked as he studied the menu on the wall. We had a lot of pictures of pizza up. “The works. No anchovy.”
Why did people always say that? Pizzas didn’t come with anchovies by default.
Hank got to work right away. Get the dough, spoon on the chunky sauce, then shredded mozzarella.
Ruiz arched an eyebrow at me. “Fizzy? That a nickname?”
“Nope. Both my parents were actors.” Actors lived in their own world, even when it came to naming babies.
“Ah. You two married?” he asked.
Ruiz seemed to be making conversations, which was quite odd. The other officers had been perfunctory, almost to the point of being rude. I hoped he wasn’t sweetening us up for worse.
“Divorced,” I said.
Surprise lit up his eyes. “And still workin’ together?”
Hank said, “We figured out that we get along better divorced than married.”
He slid the pizza and pan into the oven.
Of course, now, it was too much for me to wait any more … I had to know. Hank was pretty good at reading me and came to the counter to watch.
“I’m sorry, Officer … I have to ask you something. Officers have come in here a lot. They tell us not to call them. What are they talking about? What if we get held up? We don’t call for help?”
Ruiz glanced away for a moment, composing his face.
“The landlord didn’t tell you,” he said finally. “It seems like there’s always a new restaurant here. They don’t stay long.”
“This isn’t a bad location,” Hank said. “What is it—this place cursed?”
Ruiz stared at his feet, then stared at the pizza pictures on the wall.
“It’s because you’re going to be visited by aliens.”
Hank and I didn’t know what to make of what Ruiz told us. It seemed like pure silliness. If there were aliens out there, surely it would be all over social media.
We came in the next morning to get everything set up for the lunch crowd (we hoped there would actually be a lunch crowd). It was already getting to be pretty hot out, pressing down on the yellow haze of smog that laid over the valley.
As we got out of the beat-up minivan, a flash of movement made me stop. The parking spot rolled, like a wave.
“What the hell?” Hank said.
“Maybe something to do with the aliens?” I asked.
Almost in answer, the spot gurgled again. Rotten-egg smell made me recoil.
The asphalt was squishy like I was walking on ground saturated with water.
Gurgle.
I screamed and jumped back. Would’ve lost my balance and flashed the world if Hank hadn’t grabbed me. I smoothed out my skirt. My hands were shaking like crazy.
We walked gingerly around the spot and went inside. Should we close off the spot? What if it ate people?
Maybe I was watching too many movies.
We were yawning throughout the evening. I put on a DVD of one of those movies where the monster was created by atomic power. More monster power to stay awake.
We’d had a bit of a rush at dinner time—some people from the set of a film picking up a stack of pizzas—and then it was like a switch was shut off. No one came in.
Heck, no one even walked by.
Hank sighed and folded his arms on the counter, shifting his weight. “It’s discouraging, Fizzy. You know, you imagine that when you open the door on your first day, people will be lining up. And then they don’t.”
“You could always get on another cooking show.” I gave him my best smile.
“No. Never. Again.”
I ran my hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. It was hard not to think about all the money we put in. What would happen if business continued to be so poor? It was bad seeing Hank demoralized.
“Do you want to do something else?” I finally asked.
Hank pressed his lips together, which he did when he was doing some deep thinking. “No. I like cooking. I like making pizza.”
“Well, maybe that movie crew will pass our name around.”
Word of mouth was probably going to be the best way to get business. People just didn’t look at ads anymore.
Blue strobes flashed across the store.
Hank groaned. “Not more police again.”
“Maybe they want pizza.”
We both laughed at that. Pizza should be cop food because it was fast and portable.
But when I looked out the window, ice gripped me. The blue light wasn’t coming from the street.
It was from the parking spot.
A door opened up in the ground, and the light was coming out it. The rotten-egg smell was back, too.
Hank crowded against me, peering over my shoulder. His nearness helped warm me up.
“Is that the aliens?” he said.
We hadn’t believed Ruiz, not really, thinking it was some kind of joke. But now, my stomach was tightening into knots. If there were aliens, what were they going to do?
Shapes silhouetted against the bright light walked up what appeared to be a set of stairs under the parking lot. There were three shapes, human only in the sense that they had two arms, two legs, and a head. Two looked like they were wearing—top hats?
Then the light cut off abruptly, and the rectangle of land became a parking space again. The three figures walked to our door.
“They’re coming in here!” My voice was a squeak.
The wind chime on the door tinkled as the aliens entered. The first one turned, gazing at the wind chimes like a child making a new discovery.
The aliens were quite slender, so much so that I wondered how they got internal organs to fit in their bodies. Their skin was a pale, pale violet, topped with a waterfall of white hair. It was quite striking, really. Their eyes were purple marbles.
And they were dressed up in formal wear. Two were in tuxedoes and top hats. One had a sparkly cummerbund, and the other had a gold sash stretched across his chest. The third was a woman, dressed in a shimmering silver evening gown, a vibrant red wrap draped over her shoulders.
Just like they were going to the Hollywood red carpet.
Hank and I drew back toward the counter, both of us trying to remember to breathe. What were they going to do? Were they invading Earth? Were they going to shoot us with laser weapons?
On the plasma screen, a woman in a white bathing suit screamed. The aliens gathered in front of it. They gasped as a monster surged out of a river and snatched up the screaming woman.
Good? Bad? Did they think the monster was a cousin?
Continuing to glance at the movie, they moved to the menu on the wall. They had the liquidity of cats as they walked.
Their voices were musical as they discussed something. I tried to make out the words, but they slipped from my ears.
Then Gold Sash pointed at one of the pictures and cocked his head questioningly.
Wait—pizza? They wanted pizza?
“One sausage and pepperoni pizza coming up!” Hank said, bursting with nervous energy. “Why don’t you show them a table, Fizzy?”
His words unstuck my brain. Customer service instincts kicked in. Aliens were customers. Okay. I smiled and pointed to one of the tables, the one that had a good view of the plasma. Sparkly Cummerbund pulled out one chair for Lady Alien and bowed to her. They all adjusted their chairs so they could watch the movie.
I put out glasses of water and retreated back to the counter. It was hard not to jump around. Fear had turned into electricity in my body.
Hank arranged rings of pepperoni on top of the cheese. His hands were shaking so bad that he dropped some of the pepperonis. Shredded mozzarella was white confe
tti around his feet.
“You okay?” I asked. Heck, I wasn’t sure if I was myself.
“They really just want pizza?” Hank said.
All I could do was shrug and give them pizza.
Fifteen minutes later, I brought out the hot pan with the steaming pizza and three plates. Lady Alien leaned over the pizza, inhaling deeply. Her small mouth broke out in a smile.
So far so good.
Gold Sash added a slice to each plate. All three bowed their heads, and their voices drew down into a sing-song murmur. They stopped at the same time and then began eating.
Hank and I both watched the aliens for the next two hours. I was trying not to worry … what if they didn’t like the pizza … what if it made them sick … what would we do if that happened?
And then it became amazing watching them eat. Their eyes lit up as the melted cheese stretched out. The woman swiped a piece of crust off Gold Sash’s plate (and he let her), biting it for the crunch.
They discussed the food at length … couldn’t understand a word, but it was about the food.
At least they finished, right down to the last glob of cheese and crumb from the crust. All three stood up. Gold Sash came over, and he was smiling. He pressed a small pouch of sturdy but soft material into my hand.
The wind chimes tinkled as they departed, and a moment later the parking space opened up to the blue light again. It was only after the light cut off that Hank and I finally unstuck ourselves.
“What did they give you?” Hank asked.
The bag was heavy. I shook it. Metal rattled inside. I poured the contents on the counter.
Gold coins. We’d just made a profit.
Human business trickled in during the day. Mostly from the nearby studios. Gluten-free was considered by some to be a trend; therefore every actor was following it like a religion. We also got a business traveler staying nearby who had been desperately looking for gluten-free.
Alien business came late in the evening. Always two men and a woman, always dressed in formal attire, bearing gold coins. They watched whatever movie we were playing.
They liked shoot-em-up Westerns and monster flicks, just like us.
We could tell when they were coming because the parking spot would be extra squishy and smell like rotten eggs.
It was Thursday, about forty-five minutes before the aliens usually arrived. Our last human customer left with a whoosh out the door, mumbling angrily.
Filming nearby must have broken late because we got a rush of people when it should have been quiet, including the star of the film.
Jason Broadman blew in, wearing arrogance the way everyone else wears clothes. He had a face that would make teen hearts flutter but by thirty, no one would know who he was.
He demanded Hank remake the pizza twice because the slices weren’t exactly the same size, then complained about the movie we were showing.
“C’mon!” He glared at the plasma. “You can tell that’s a guy in an ape suit.”
He still hadn’t been satisfied with the third pizza, though Hank had done an admirable job at cutting the slices. There just wasn’t pleasing some people.
After the door closed, I said, “You were more polite than I would have been.”
“Believe me, I was about to hit my limit when he started fussing on that third pizza,” Hank said. “But he would’ve bad-mouthed us to the film crew.”
He took off his apron and tossed it on the counter. His back cracked as he stretched. His gaze flicked to the clock. Every night it was the same. We looked at the clock as the evening drew to a close and felt both a flutter of excitement and trepidation.
“What do you think of the alien thing, Fizzy?” he finally asked.
We’d avoided the question for days, though it was the elephant—or alien—in the room that we were all stepping around. The aliens paid well, very well. We were turning a profit now, entirely because of them. But they were … well, aliens.
What if they turned on us one day because they didn’t like the pizza? What if SWAT busted down the door and came in armed, ready to shoot? What if we went viral on the internet?
I considered my words carefully and what came out surprised me.
“I enjoy it when they come in here. They’re … you know, respectful. We get too many people like that guy who just left. Rude and nasty.”
Hank dunked his head, embarrassed. “I like watching them. They just have so much fun with the pizza and watching the monster movies. But still—”
Yup. They were aliens.
Headlights flashed across the window, and an engine cut off. Officer Ruiz sauntered in a few minutes later to the tune of wind chimes. From the set of his eyebrows, he was surprised to see us still here.
“They didn’t scare you off?”
Hank shrugged. “We’re still thinking about it. They can’t be all bad. They like pizza.”
“My wife liked it, too,” Ruiz said. “She wants another one. She’s a make-up artist, so she’s been telling everyone about your restaurant.”
Hank beamed. “The works, right?”
“The works. No anchovies.”
Hank retreated to make the pizza, leaving me to ask questions.
“How long have the aliens been coming here?”
Ruiz’s eyebrows came together. “Over a year. Not the only place either. They showed up at a movie theater. Didn’t like the movies.”
I glanced up at the movie playing on the plasma screen. The ape stalked a team of explorers through the woods.
“They like ours,” I said.
Ruiz watched the movie for a few moments. “I watched those when I was a kid. Hollywood doesn’t make movies like that anymore.”
The lights flashed outside, and a few minutes later the three aliens came in. This time the woman approached me with a big smile and handed me a DVD.
They wanted us to play it? I pointed at the plasma. She shook her head and all three turned to the menu to order their pizza. They settled in to watch the ape movie. The DVD was apparently a gift. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The next morning, Hank and I plugged in the DVD and watched while we prepared for the day. The aliens had made a movie!
The location was a beach with ruddy sand. Majestic cliffs stood watch in the background. Might be anywhere on Earth, except for the two moons hanging over the cliffs.
The woman alien wore a blond wig and a filmy white dress. She was being chased by an alien in a rubber sea monster suit. The hero was in cowboy clothes and carried a sword.
Heroine did a dramatic scream, going limp in a faint. The wig nearly fell off. Cowboy lunged at the sea monster with the sword. He obviously missed, but the sea monster clutched his chest and dramatically died.
It was so bad. But the aliens were having so much fun that we both enjoyed it.
So we played the DVD during the day to the human customers. Most seemed to enjoy it. Some asked about it. We just said, “It’s an indie film.”
Over the next week, the aliens came back every night at the same time. It wasn’t always the same ones, but always two men and one woman, and always in formalwear. They always bought another DVD movie they’d made.
Then they pointed at pictures, and we made pizza.
But I felt a niggle of worry. I didn’t tell Hank, though I’m sure he figured it out, too.
What happened if they stopped coming?
On Thursday, Officer Ruiz returned, half an hour before the aliens were due. It was a new moon out, so the only light outside was from the street lamps.
He gave me back the alien video he borrowed and got another one. Bribery works. He’d gotten the other officers to stop bothering us and got to watch fun films.
A high-powered engine growled outside. The driver had parked in the alien’s spot.
Hank tensed up with alarm. “We need to tell him to move. I don’t know what’ll happen if the portal opens—”
“Got it,” Ruiz said.
But before he reache
d the door, it bounced open and Jason Broadman strode in like he owned the place. He ordered a pizza and got on his cell phone to argue with someone while it baked in the oven.
Ruiz and I watched the parking spot, hoping the aliens would be a little late. So far, no rotten-egg smell, no glow.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until the actor was back out in the car. Only he didn’t pull out right away. He was still on his cell phone.
Light glowed under the car.
No, no, no. Hank and I rushed outside to do … we weren’t even sure what.
The portal opened.
It ate the car.
Officer Ruiz warned us not to say anything. If anyone came by about Jason, we’d tell them that he bought his pizza and left.
Hank and I were beside ourselves. Three days crawled by. No Jason, no aliens.
The silence made it worse.
We got through the days mechanically, terrified the police would barge in and arrest us. We didn’t know what they would arrest us for, but we were certain it would happen.
After the lunch rush had vacated, Hank leaned on the counter wearily, watching me prop open the front door.
Between the heat of the day and the lunch rush, the restaurant was frightfully hot. Of course, we were both avoiding the elephant—alien—in the room.
“Maybe we should have left when the aliens first started showing up,” Hank said.
I couldn’t really answer him because I didn’t even know how I felt. My stomach hadn’t been right since Jason had disappeared. Every time I saw a news alert about the disappearance, I wanted to crawl back into bed and hide.
Since I didn’t say anything, Hank said, “I’ve been thinking that we should close up the Pizza Shoebox.”
I knew what I thought of that. I rushed back to the counter. “No, no, Hank. We had this discussion. You like cooking. You like making pizza.”
Hank slammed a pizza pan on the counter. “What are we supposed to do, Fizzy? I don’t want to be looking over my back forever!”
His anger caught mine on fire. “We did not do anything!”
Monsters, Movies & Mayhem Page 17
