Mustard on Top

by Wanda Degolier

  “Helen.” Agatha exhaled and got an I’m-winding-up-for-a-speech gleam in her eyes. “As I’ve grown older, I recognize that I didn’t do what I wanted because I was afraid. I see so much potential in you. You’re smarter than you think you are. You’ve decided it’s okay that you never went to college or had the career you wanted.”

  Helen crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.

  Agatha went on. “You’re okay without having a life-long companion, and you have this pleasant, settled serenity about you.”

  Her blood pressure rising, Helen forced a tight smile.

  “You put Theo’s needs before your own, but Theo’s almost a man. Your time has come. Right now.” Agatha thumped the table for emphasis.

  “You think franchising Hot Diggitys is what I need to do because I’m coming into my time?” Helen asked.

  “The joy lies in trying.”

  “The journey,” Helen said flatly. Agatha reminded her of a self-help book.

  “Exactly, the reason I push you is because I’ve made the same mistakes. The biggest thing I regret in my life is not taking chances. Well no more for me, I refuse.” Agatha held a palm up. “I’m not asking you to make Hot Diggitys your life, I’m just asking you to gamble a little. Take some risks.”

  Helen’s chest rose and fell. “What if the franchise fails, both the investor and I would lose money right?” Helen’s nerves were tangled in knots. Agatha’s timing was horrible, but she was correct, Helen preferred the safer route.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “What do you see yourself doing if you’re part owner?”

  “The role I’m already playing: getting patents and trademarks, doing research. Do you know what’s in my office as we speak?”

  “A mess?” Helen joked, but Agatha didn’t crack a smile. “What?”

  “A franchise kit.”

  Helen took a deep breath. “So what would my job be?”

  “Your current role: General Manager, the inventor of new recipes, and, of course, heading up quality control. This whole thing wouldn’t be possible if you hadn’t already built up a good reputation and product line. We start locally. Open stands in Tacoma, Seattle, Federal Way.”

  Helen shook her head. “I need to think about this. I can’t just jump in the way you want me to. Things are crazy right now. I’m getting close to finals in my class, and Hot Diggitys is getting busier all the time.”

  “And Ben’s in your life,” Agatha added.

  Helen bristled. “He’s not in my life. He’s here for Theo, besides he’ll be going home soon.”

  Agatha smiled as if placating a child. “I consider myself a pretty good judge of character,” Agatha paused, “and Ben’s all right.”

  Helen shrugged. “He’s Theo’s dad regardless.”

  “Maybe you should spread your wings in that direction too.”

  “Agatha Cashman.” Helen plopped one fist on the table. “You’re not suggesting I get…cozy with him, are you?”

  Agatha straightened her back. “Don’t deny your attraction. Something is going on between the two of you.”

  “Yeah. Theo.”

  Agatha quirked half a smile. “Enjoy your chemistry, it may never happen again.”

  Helen covered her embarrassment with a cough. She stood. “I need to go, I have a few errands to run before work.”

  “Tell Ben and Jeremy ‘hi’ and remember, carpe diem.”

  Helen was almost scared to ask. “What’s that mean?”

  “Seize the day.”

  Helen stood. “I have a busy day ahead, I should go.”

  Agatha held Helen’s folder out. “Don’t forget this.”

  ****

  While Helen met with Agatha, Ben retrieved his laptop from his hotel room. He returned to find Helen was gone, so he sat at the kitchen table and began doing triage on his email.

  Two hours later, after handling the urgent items, Ben googled drug-withdrawal symptoms. He suspected Jeremy’s detoxification would be worse than Helen and Agatha anticipated and hoped to head off problems.

  He discovered different types of drugs had different withdrawal symptoms. Worse, he learned a person could die during detoxification. Possible death changed everything.

  Ben sucked down the rest of his coffee in one long drink. He needed to find out what drugs Jeremy had taken. After preparing a tray with toast, banana, and apple juice, he opened the door to the stairwell. His nostrils flared as a vinegary scent wafted up. For a few seconds he stared into the black abyss, before flicking on the light.

  “Oh man!” Jeremy’s unsteady voice drifted up. “Let there be light.” He cackled.

  Given what Ben had read about withdrawal symptoms, the response baffled him. He descended the stairs, and as Jeremy came into view, Ben’s unease multiplied. Jeremy sat upright with closed eyes. One arm was outstretched, the fingers twitching, while the other was bent at the elbow with the hand shaking up and down. Jeremy lip-synced to a song playing only in his head.

  About to call Jeremy’s name, Ben spied the glint of something metallic next to the beanbag. A knife? Common sense dictated not getting near Jeremy, but a voice inside Ben’s head asked, if not you, then who?

  Ben lowered the plate of food to the floor, got down on hands and knees, and crawled closer. Jeremy’s head bobbed to his internal music while his fingers strummed. Ben stretched his fingers toward the metal object, but it was too far. He inched closer, and this time when he reached out, he caught hold of the item.

  “Whoa!” Jeremy’s skeletal arm shot out and grabbed Ben’s forearm. Ben jerked away and scooted out of reach.

  The object, a spoon, was covered with black soot on the convex side and glistened on the concave side.

  “Give that back.” Jeremy held out his hand.

  At the internal bend of Jeremy’s elbow was a fiery-red circle. A black rubber tube poked out where the spoon had been. Ben felt nauseated, Jeremy’s shooting up in Helen’s house seemed sacrilege. “Hand over the drugs,” Ben said, his hand outstretched.

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Give me back my fucking spoon.”

  He gestured to someone invisible. “He’s ruining my high. Fucking jerk.”

  “You will not shoot up in this house again.”

  Jeremy crossed his eyes and stuck out his splotchy tongue then burst into laughter.

  “How long ago did you use?” Ben asked.

  “Do you see a fucking clock? I’m like a caged animal, no, worse. I don’t know whether it’s day or night. No television, no food. Prisoners got better accommodations. At least they get some daylight.”

  Jeremy ranted himself to distraction, and Ben slipped the spoon into the back pocket of his pants.

  “How’s your bladder?” Ben asked when Jeremy paused to take a breath.

  “I need to piss like a race horse.”

  “Let’s get you to the toilet before I’ll give you the food I brought down then.”

  Ben got to within striking distance, and half expected Jeremy to stab him with his syringe. To his surprise, Jeremy cooperated, and propping him up was easier than Ben had expected. The high Jeremy was more agile than the sober one. Jeremy used the crutches as Ben manhandled the bucket. Once they reached the toilet, Ben headed back to the center of the basement. He flung the beanbag aside, found the tubing, a syringe, a lighter, and a small plastic bag with white powder.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Jeremy’s arms flailed as he leaned toward Ben.

  “I’ll be right back.” Ben carried the drugs and paraphernalia upstairs while Jeremy shouted a string of expletives. He was still wailing after the contents of the plastic bag were flushed down the toilet.

  Ben returned to the basement, where Jeremy stood in front of the toilet with his face glowing red. “You stole my Aunt Hazel! Mine. I’ll kill you. I swear I will.”

  “Aunt Hazel?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Given Jeremy’s mood, Ben wouldn’t go near him, but he di
dn’t like leaving Jeremy standing in front of the toilet. He tossed the beanbag chair in Jeremy’s direction followed by the pillows and the blankets.

  With his toe, he pushed the tray of food, sans the spoon, to within Jeremy’s reach.

  “I hate you,” Jeremy said, tears streaming down his face. “You really are ruining my high.”

  “I want to help you through the withdrawals, so tell me what you’re addicted to?”

  “Fuck off Mr. Fucker Fuckhead.”

  Ben raked a hand through his hair. He pitied Jeremy. “If you need anything, other than drugs, clap your hands.”

  Ben returned to the kitchen and Googled Aunt Hazel. He expected charming stories of little old ladies, instead, he got heroine. Shit. The only benefit to Jeremy’s using earlier that day was that Ben had time to do more research before Jeremy went into withdrawals.

  Ben checked his email; seventeen new messages. His shoulders sagged, his workload would be unbearable by the time he returned. He scanned the subject lines, opened a few, and began responding to one when Helen came through the door carrying two bags of groceries. She set them on the counter then sat in the chair across from him.

  “You won’t believe what Agatha is suggesting,” she said.

  Helen Ben closed his laptop, giving her his full attention. “What?”

  Helen told him Agatha recommended franchising Hot Diggitys, and that she wanted to be an investor. Ben listened while reveling in the fact Helen was sharing the news with him. Helen finished by saying she didn’t know what she was going to do.

  “What are the pros and cons?” Ben asked.

  “The pro is money. Hopefully, anyway. Some traveling too.” Her face lit up. “I mean if Hot Diggitys took off. I’d be going to new locations. I’ve only been out of Washington State twice.” Her eyes sparked then faded, and she sighed.

  “The cons?”

  Helen took a deep breath. “I guess I’m a wimp.” She frowned. “I don’t want to risk Agatha’s money or anyone else’s. Plus, I don’t want to quit college, when I just started taking classes, and franchising would suck up all my time.”

  Ben wanted to fold her protectively in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. “Are you positive expanding would take more time?”

  “Starting a franchise would. How could it not?”

  “You could hire a full-time manager for Hot Diggitys.”

  Helen seemed thoughtful. “I suppose. Hot Diggitys is doing better.”

  “I think franchising is a viable option,” Ben added.

  “The idea is scary and exciting.” Helen’s muted enthusiasm gave him hope.

  “Imagine opening restaurants in the international market: Europe, Australia, Hong Kong,” Ben said.

  Helen’s eyes glittered. “It all sounds good, but things almost never go the way they’re planned.” Her tone sounded resigned. “Have you checked on Jeremy?”

  Ben nodded as he debated whether to tell her about Jeremy’s current state. “The good news is: he’s awake. The bad news is: he’s high on heroin.”

  Helen’s eyes opened wider. “What do you mean?”

  “He shot up this morning,” Ben admitted. “I destroyed his stash.”

  She blinked a few times. “Wow… I never imagined… I mean… I knew… I never thought. I’m naїve, aren’t I?”

  Willfully naїve, Ben thought, but said, “You’re a trusting soul.”

  “He’s okay right now?”

  “Oh, he’s happy for now. I left him with food and water. His taking drugs actually bought us some time to prepare.”

  Helen shook her head. “What can I do?”

  “There’s nothing to do right now.”

  Helen blew out a breath then push out of her seat. “Okay. I need to put these groceries away then get to work.” She began to load her fridge with plastic wrapped bags of meat.

  “I’m curious, where do you take the meat after you cook it?”

  “To Bruce’s Smokehouse in Cretin. They smoke and pack it.”

  “Ah. I was wondering. You leave with these huge pots then magically the hot dogs appear at Hot Diggitys.”

  “Now you know.”

  Helen turned away and retrieved her five-gallon pan from the cupboard. Ben caught himself enjoying her rounded rear. She had good posture and, being on her feet all day, toned legs. He loved her work ethic and attitude toward life and wondered if his attraction and their easy friendship could lead to more.

  Ben reminded himself he was in Nalley for Theo’s sake. “When I went to the room to pick up my laptop, I told Theo I’d be staying longer, he asked about working more on his car,” Ben said. “How do you feel about Theo being here with me during the day?”

  Helen grew rigid. “That makes me nervous.”

  “We’ll draw less attention if we carry on like normal.”

  “You’re assuming the bad guys know what normal is.”

  Ben’s argument was selfish, but he had confidence in his ability to protect Theo or Helen. “I would never let anything happen to him. I just want to spend time with him.”

  “He’d like to spend time with you too,” Helen said with her back to him. Her shoulders raised and fell as if she’d taken a deep breath, and she turned to face him. “I’m sure Theo would be disappointed if he missed the opportunity.”

  A grin, starting at Ben’s heart, crept up to his face.

  “You don’t think Jeremy will get out of the basement somehow, do you?” Helen asked. “People high on drugs can be super strong.”

  Ben thought a high wind could blow away Jeremy’s scrawny body. “Jeremy grabbed my arm when I took his drugs away. He has the strength of kid. There’s no way he’s getting up the stairs.”

  “It’s all so strange.” The corners of Helen’s mouth turned down. “What about when he goes into withdrawals? Will he become super human then?”

  Ben shook his head. “From my research, he’ll be even weaker.”

  Helen tilted her head to the side. “How are you researching drug withdrawals?”

  “The internet.”

  “On my computer?” she asked suspiciously.

  Ben laughed at her assumption. “No, on mine.”

  Helen eyed his laptop. “How? You’re not connected to a network.”

  “I’ve got a 4G connection.”

  Helen’s face went blank. “4G? Now I feel like a techno-idiot.”

  “Don’t. Technology changes constantly. Hey, I was thinking I’d like to take you to Hot Diggitys and pick you up after work. That way nobody can ambush you. I’ll do the same with Theo. I think that would be the safest thing.”

  “Why would someone ambush me?”

  “I doubt anybody would, but I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone in a dark parking lot every night, especially with those loonies so close by. A safety in numbers thing.” Ben hated her walking to her car alone at night. With her schedule and the public nature of her job, she was easy prey.

  Helen scowled. “I don’t need protection.”

  Ben her anticipated her arguing. “There’s nothing wrong with being safe. I’m suggesting we all stick together until we get Jeremy is out of here. Just in case Moe figures out he’s here.”

  “What about you? Who’s going to take care of you?”

  At six-feet-two-inches tall and 220 pounds, Ben wasn’t worried. Having played sports all his life, followed by making a living in a courtroom, he could intimidate the white off rice. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Right.” Helen sounded is if she’d tried for sarcasm, but failed. “What about my car? If someone is watching us, they’ll wonder why you’re driving me around.”

  “Does your car need a tune-up? Here’s the perfect opportunity.”

  Helen considered she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me I guess. My car needs a zillion-mile-maintenance check no doubt, but right now I need to get to work.”

  “Me too.” Ben reached for his laptop and tried to remember what he’d been working on. His em
ail program, with a half-typed response, popped onto his screen. The message seemed shallow, meaningless.

  ****

  Agatha’s private investigator, Henrick Gregory, was sitting in her office, when her phone rang. The caller ID was blocked, and Agatha pointed to a second phone sitting on her desk. Simultaneously, they picked up the receivers.

  “This is Agatha,” she answered.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t wait the three days to call you,” Moe purred.

  Agatha faked a smile. She’d once read if a person smiled while they spoke on the phone, the smile could be detected in their voice. “Pardon me? Who is this?”

  “I’m disappointed. It’s me, Moe.”

  “Oh, Moep” Agatha put some warmth into her voice. She was curious whether he’d broach the topic of Jeremy. “What’s this about three days?”

  “I’m talking about dating etiquette. The man is supposed to wait three days before calling the object of his desire for another date. Otherwise, he comes off as desperate.”

  Agatha arched an eyebrow at Henrick and chuckled. She laughed not at Moe’s flirting, but how he must be burning to talk about Jeremy. “Oh? Perhaps I missed that class. Fill me in. What am I supposed to do if you call too early?”

  “You must show your annoyance at my eagerness,” he said. “Clearly anyone who calls back so soon isn’t good enough for you.”

  “That is probably true.” Agatha teased.

  “According to the authorities anyway.”

  “Had you waited the three days you’re supposed to wait, how should I respond?” Agatha said.

  “You should sound happy, but not overly happy.”

  “Thank you so much for the tips.” Agatha checked the display on her phone tracer. Confirming they’d been able to trace Moe’s number, she winked at Henrick. Her tone changed to sound as if she’d been waiting an hour to return a faulty, vacuum-cleaner bag. “So, Moe. What can I do for you?”

  Moe’s laughter seemed genuine. “Very good. You learn quickly.”

  “Thank you.” She pinched the words.

  “I had a terrific time last night, and I’d like to see you again. Would you do me the honors?”

  Agatha sighed audibly. “I don’t know. I’m thinking I may be too good for you.”