Done Burger

by Camille Oster

  He moved closer and his fingers snuck into my pocket until I slapped him away. "You have no concept of boundaries."

  "Mia has no concept of boundaries," he said and stepped backward toward the exit to the service area. He made a gesture like he was pressing an imaginary lighter as he pushed the door open into the darkness outside, leaving me holding my pack of cigarettes.

  He was kind of right that Mia didn't have a right to dictate how we all were with each other. She certainly had no right to say I couldn't talk to Riley. It wasn't me being inappropriate at all times. Okay, maybe that time I punched him in the nuts—perhaps slightly inappropriate, and again suggesting a certain familiarity. Technically, I had touched his dick—if at speed and with force.

  I was dying for a smoke too. What the hell, I thought and walked out the back. He was standing in the corner. "Good. I was starting to think I had to rub my fingers together to get this lit."

  "So what went on with you and Mia?"

  "We fucked," Riley said in the darkness, taking the lighter from me and blazing it. I could see the tip of his cigarette glowing bright.

  "That's it? ‘Cause she's acting like it was a hell of a lot more."

  He didn't say anything, just took a drag and blew it out. "It was, it ended," he finally said.

  The idea of being in a relationship with Riley was inconceivable. He was so abrasive, it was hard to think he could be anything but, which was probably why it hadn't lasted.

  "As a boyfriend, I'm pretty shit," he said.

  "I can imagine."

  He smiled; I saw it in the darkness. "You can't be so much fun yourself."

  "What? I'm lovely." I hadn't actually thought what I was like as a girlfriend, having concentrated on how bad Kyle was at being a boyfriend.

  "And so delusional."

  "Or maybe you don't have to analyze everything to death."

  "You just go bumbling along, clueless why things are happening to you?"

  "Because I'm probably better off not knowing."

  He was smiling again. He had a dimple in the middle of his cheek when he smiled. I'd never noticed before.

  We were quiet for a moment and I took a drag. "I fucking hate smoking."

  "Then why do you do it?"

  "Because I'm addicted. It typically means you keep doing things that aren't good for you."

  "Kind of like Mia."

  "That is a unique way of selling yourself," I said. "How does that work out for you?"

  "Surprisingly well. You wouldn't think so, but if you tell someone you'll treat the badly, they just can't resist finding out how."

  "I will try to restrain myself," I said sarcastically. "Obviously, you could try not to be such an asshole all the time. Just a suggestion."

  "What would be the fun in that? I just like being honest about what I am. In fact, I like honesty. It's the best invention ever."

  "Or sometimes it just makes you a jerk-off."

  "Another favorite activity, if I’m honest."

  "Ugh," I said and threw my cigarette into the smokers' can. I turned back to the door.

  "Fucking," he called as I stepped inside. "We all do it."

  The door shut behind me and I swore I heard him chuckling. He truly is a douche, I thought as I shoved my cigarette pack into my locker. I really needed to quit, feeling like I was being totally taken advantage of by these cigarettes, maybe the people who made them. Because according to Riley, I couldn't help letting myself be screwed by people who didn't give a fuck about me.

  I walked back to my station. Mia gave me a pointed look like she'd just eaten a lemon.

  "What?" I said challengingly. If she wanted to have a go at me, she could come out and say it. Was Riley rubbing off on me?

  * * *

  Chapter 15:

  * * *

  It got even hotter. The news said there was a bit of a heatwave happening, which resulted in a bunch of people hanging out in the restaurant for hours, preferring our air-conditioned space to their own houses. It made for busy days and short tempers. The customers were a little ruder, as well as more sunburned.

  Mia was still being a cow, avoiding me as much as possible. Her dislike emanated from her like frost. It might actually be cooling the place. I could only shake my head at how ridiculous it was. Riley, of course, didn't give a damn. Technically, it wasn't his fault. She just needed to get over it, or realize there was nothing to get over.

  The heat made working more exhausting too. I felt shattered by the time my break came around and my feet ached. When I sat down out back, I took my shoes off and crossed my legs, tucking my ankles under me on the chair. A headache pounded through my skull. I probably needed to drink more, I realized. But at least the sun was going down, although I suspected it would be a crazy night, the heat bringing out all the loonies.

  With a sigh, I took a cigarette pack out of my pocket. I was failing on the quitting smoking front. It just didn't seem to get any traction. A fantastic idea—doing it proved harder. Hating myself, I lit the cigarette and drew the smoke into my lungs. I was going to get wrinkles if I kept this up. I couldn't imagine anything that would suck more.

  The whooshing noise meant the door was opening and I looked to see Wyatt walking out. "Pepper," he said.

  "How are you, Wyatt?"

  "I tell you what; the grill sucks on a night like this. Want to swap jobs?"

  "Sure. You can deal with all the crazy customers. The heat makes them especially deranged."

  "See there's the problem. I can't deal with people. My ADHD would kick in and I wouldn't get the orders straight. Frying I can do; it's simple. Fry, flip, fry, flip. Riley tends to handle the what and how much." He scratched absently along his arm.

  "That's gotta suck."

  "Yeah," he said, sitting down and crossing his ankles. "It makes you pretty much useless in the work place, ‘cause you can't hide shit like that either. Can't concentrate for shit and there's nothing I can do about it. My mind's always off somewhere."

  It sounded like a real burden. There weren't that many jobs you could do if you couldn't focus.

  "Comics are alright though. I can do that for hours, but then I can jump around and do different parts. Suits me, you know?"

  "That's cool." It must be terrible being a creative guy, stuck in the most mundane jobs, just to earn money.

  "You can make a living doing it if you're smart," he continued. "Obviously, I'm not there yet."

  "I hope it works out for you."

  "You just have to keep at it, get better and better. I don't have a choice really; I don't want to be stuck flipping burgers the rest of my life. Workplaces are generally not set up for people like me. School was alright; they put a lot of resources into us challenged kids, but somewhere lately, I went from being the precious future of the country, to a pervert no one wants anything to do with. When did that happen?" He made an exaggerated shrug.

  I cracked up. I couldn't help it.

  "Where'd the crossing guards go, the one in his neon jacket who made sure no one ran us over? They don't care now. Turn eighteen and your value as a member of society plummets. No one gives a fuck now. You're on your own."

  I couldn't stop laughing, because it was true. "Guess we're not the innocent kids we used to be," I said. And we really weren't innocent and I kind of missed it, if I was honest. That time when everything was good and the future was bright. Money was something you got from your parents, along with presents at Christmas, candy from strangers during Halloween.

  "Welcome to adulthood. It sucks."

  "Growing up, we were so ready to finish senior year and leave school, all convinced how fantastic it would be. Awesome careers were waiting for us and everything would be cool."

  "Ph-fucking-D in flipping burgers," Wyatt said, pulling a weed out with his fingers. They were quiet for a moment.

  "I'm glad you're doing your thing with comics."

  "Yeah," he said. "Do what you love, right?"

  "Yeah," I agreed. Problem wa
s I didn't love anything. I was kind of jealous Wyatt had a passion. Ella's was looking good. Mia—I could see nothing special about her, although the negativity between us could be coloring my perspective. I snorted and took a last drag off my cigarette. Maybe Wyatt was the only one out of all of us who would achieve something—except for Matilda, who probably would run for president. Weren't all politicians psychopaths or narcissists or something? They all seemed to hide monstrous dirty secrets—mistresses, large-scale fraud, secret fetishes. Were there normal people or had that all been an illusion? The idea that Matilda was hiding some dirty secret was also cringe-worthy.

  *

  I was right. The night was mental. This guy threw up right in front of the counter and it stunk. We all had to stop and help clean it up. The problem with the service industry was that the customers weren't responsible for anything. No, sure, come here and throw up, abdicate all responsibility; we'll take care of it. Got no money? Try begging and then get shitty because we say no. Not a problem; we are here for you to scream at.

  And then we were out of fucking straws. Another thing customers couldn't forgive. 'You're out of something!' It was the most preposterous thing they'd ever heard. This woman was giving me evils, while her brats were glaring at me. "I'll just get some more," I said with a smile. "Got some in the back."

  "I need some too," Mia said snottily. Really? Even when she was asking me to do something for her, she had the right to be snotty? Whatever.

  I walked out back and grabbed the handle for the dry store, pulled the door aside and walked in to be met by Riley lodged in some girl's thighs, up against the wall, with sex noises, his pants down by his knees, ass peeking out under his uniform shirt.

  "Fuck," I said, not able to get away from that assaulting sight fast enough. "Riley, what the fuck?" I turned and stepped out of the dry store. "That better not be a customer," I yelled tartly. My mouth screwed up so tight it hurt.

  "Shouldn't have gone in there," Wyatt said.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You were so fast I didn't get a chance to," he defended himself.

  The door to the dry store opened again and Riley stepped out, his pants up this time, followed by a girl in a jeans skirt and light blue top, and shimmery pink lipstick. She smiled up at Riley. "I'll see you later," she said and walked to the front, past the counter, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving Riley an insipid little wave.

  I gave him my filthiest look. "You can't screw people in the dry store."

  "Why not? You think I'm the only one who fucks in there? That place is so full of cum, I wouldn't touch anything," he said, his eyes shining with … I didn't want to know. Lazily, he walked over to the grill and slapped another patty on like nothing had happened.

  "That's disgusting. You have a problem."

  "Everybody has sex, princess. Everybody in the whole world, even your mom does it."

  "Not at work," I said tightly. "How did you even get her in here?"

  "Through the back," Wyatt added.

  Matilda appeared. "What was a non-employee doing back here?" she demanded.

  "Riley gave her a job interview," Wyatt stated.

  "Shut up, Wyatt," I said angrily.

  "Why so touchy, princess?"

  "Because you're a disgusting pig. I would so very much appreciate not seeing your bare ass, ever again. And stop calling me princess. Don't call me anything, in fact, don't ever speak to me. Ugh," I said, shuddering with revulsion.

  "Non-employees cannot be back here," Matilda stated louder.

  I turned to her disbelievingly. That was the problem she had with this scenario? Did she miss the entire point? Seriously, did no one have their head screwed on right?

  Yanking the door to the dry store open I walked in and grabbed a bag of straws. It smelled like sex. So revolting. They should steam clean this whole place. Was it true? Was this like hookup central? Was this where Julian and Ella used to get it on, obviously where Riley took his conquests. How did that even work? Did he even know this girl? Did he pick up girls coming through the drive thru? ‘Want some action with your fries?’

  I shuddered and turned off the lights in the storage room, closing the door behind me. Julian should make him clean it, but then Julian was kind of lax on those rules, wasn't he? Surely there was something in the rule book that said you couldn't have sex at work, or was it written by normal people who wouldn't dream of someone doing something so demented.

  I threw Riley another filthy look as I walked past, but he only smiled. If I had at some point had regrets about punching him in the balls before, I now knew he completely deserved it. In fact, he deserved another bout of it, or the disease he’d likely just picked up.

  And again, Mia gave me a filthy look.

  * * *

  Chapter 16:

  * * *

  I don't know what it was about Riley that disturbed me so much, but he did. It could just be the fact that he'd had sex in the storage room, which was gross any way you cut it. Would I react the same if it had been someone else? Julian and Ella had done it the very first day I was here and it hadn't bothered me beyond the eye-popping revelation—and that had been in his office, as far as I knew. Maybe it was that Julian and Ella were, at the time, in some form of a relationship, even if she’d said it was just 'a here thing.’ Riley slept with anyone who let him, although technically Julian had been accused of doing so too.

  I wasn't a prude. People had sex; I'd had sex on more than one occasion—admittedly not lately. People doing it didn't bother me. You can't have a twitter feed these days without some people showing their pink bits ramming together.

  Did he even know this girl? And why was I asking? Clearly, Riley's business was none of mine, so I needed to shake this unfortunately and inconceivable development of thinking about it.

  Mia was still sour. Matilda was completely unaware, or uncaring. I even suspected she didn't bother noticing stuff we did around her—what pertinent effect did anything we did have on her?

  Mia giving me the cold shoulder and Matilda generally ignoring my existence made for a tedious work environment. The typical dinner rush passed quickly enough, but when things slowed down and the day shift people left, it was more noticeable.

  I got so bored I reverted to winding my ponytail around my finger.

  "Sign of sexual frustration," Riley said. How was he here? I hadn't heard him come around from the back. He leaned back on the equipment and crossed his arms. Things must be slow in the back too.

  I ignored his barb. Or maybe I was getting used to it to the point where I didn't react to it anymore. "No one coming through the drive thru either?"

  "It's slow," he said. "I'm not sure why, but sometimes we just have nights like this."

  "Maybe because everything was so crazy last night."

  "Communal hangover."

  "Is the girl you banged kicking herself this morning?" I said, looking up at him with a straight back and crossed arms.

  "Look at you, are you the promiscuity police now?"

  Somehow he managed to deflate my self-appointed superiority complex. "Your words, not mine."

  "Anything you want to know about my sex life, just ask—I let it all hang out," he said, widening his eyes momentarily in challenge.

  "Alright then. Do you know her?"

  "Kind of."

  "Kind of?"

  "We've seen each other around a bit. Parties and such."

  "And she just came in here wanting a quick one in a storage room?"

  Riley shrugged. "She wasn't complaining. I'm more interested in knowing why you're interrogating me."

  "Because you're always so caught up with sex. You make innuendoes all the time, so here we are. You want to talk about it, so we are."

  "I never said I wanted to talk about it. You're the one who wants to talk about it."

  "Then stop referring to it."

  "Your sexual frustration?"

  Annoyance swept through me. And the fact that I had gone w
ithout for quite a while was completely beside the point. He was the one mentioning my sex life all the time, little comments here and there. I glared at him.

  "What?" he challenged. "It's not my fault my fucking bothers you."

  "It doesn't bother me. I just don't want to see it. Contrary to what you believe, you're pasty ass isn’t a pleasant sight."

  "Did it injure your innocent little eyes?"

  I grabbed a bit of flesh at his side and pinched hard.

  "Oww," he said, shifting out of my grip. "Again with the violence. I'm not into the rough stuff."

  "What? There are levels of depravity you won't go to?"

  "Why is that what you're into?"

  "No!" I said, shocked he'd even construe that. And somehow he'd caught me, gotten me to reveal sex stuff about myself, even if just a hint. Well done. I had to give him credit. He'd manipulated me into revealing something.

  "I'll keep that in mind," he said re-crossing his arms, settling back into the position he'd been in before I'd pinched him.

  "No, you won't. There will be no keeping anything in mind. I'm really not into slut-boys."

  "Slut-boy, am I?" He was smiling. What the hell was he smiling for? Because he was a typical man who saw it as an achievement being called a slut. "As opposed to you, who requires pledges of eternal devotion before you'll give it up?"

  He was trying again. "What I like is nothing you ever need to concern yourself with."

  Mia walked past, her face back to a looking like a cat's anus. I looked at Riley. He knew exactly what was going on and raised an eyebrow as if to challenge me. "You really are a dick, Riley."

  He leaned closer. "Maybe I just like making things difficult for you."

  "Or maybe you just like being an asshole to your exes," I said quietly so only he could hear.

  "What's going on?" Ella said, walking behind the counter, looking utterly bored.

  "Nothing at all," I said pointedly. "Not a single thing of remotest interest."