Mango Key

by Bill H Myers

  Sliding open a stainless steel cabinet, she pulled out a bag of hot dog buns. “These are potato rolls. They look like hot dog buns but are gluten free, sugar and egg free and taste great.

  “When a customer places an order, I steam a bun, pull out the right wiener, put it in the bun and add condiments. I wrap it in foil, find out what the customer wants to drink, and get paid.”

  She pointed to a cash register on the counter below the serving window. “Everything is easy to ring up because it's all priced the same. Five dollars for a dog, drink and chips.”

  She pointed to another stainless steel cabinet. “Drinks are in the cooler. Bottled water, Coke, diet Coke and Sprite. Dollar fifty if they just want a drink. Most people go for the full combo.”

  “The T-shirts are fifteen dollars each. We sell a lot of them. Sometimes thirty a day.”

  She pointed to the ceiling. “We have air conditioning in here and it's a lifesaver. It gets hot in the afternoon and without it I'd be miserable. Fortunately, we get power from the building next door. I have to pay them for it, but it's worth it.

  “On a good day, I'll sell about hundred hot dogs and thirty T-shirts. But if it's raining or stormy, I won't do nearly as well.”

  She looked at me. “Walker, come over here. Let me show you how to fill an order.”

  I should have said, “No,” but I didn't. Like a fool I walked over to the counter and let Summer show me how to take an order, prepare a hot dog, and ring it up.

  “See, it's easy. You won't have any trouble at all.”

  “Trouble? What do you mean?”

  She looked at Lori and then back at me. “Didn't Lori tell you? We're going to take the car and do a little shopping. While we're out, you're going to stay here and sell hot dogs.”

  I shook my head. “No, that won't work. If you're not going to be here, you should close the stand. You don't want me trying to run it for you.”

  Summer frowned. “Walker, I've got to keep the stand open so I can pay my bills. If you won't cover for me, I can't spend any time with my sister. I'll be stuck here all day.”

  She was using the same frown Lori used when she wanted me to do things for her. It worked for Lori and it probably was going to work for Summer.

  Before I could say anything, Lori joined in. “Walker, it's been years since I've had a chance to see my sister. Surely you can understand why we'd want some time together. All we're asking is for you stay and sell hot dogs while we're gone. Please. ”

  They were double teaming me. They knew they had a winning argument. But they weren't done. They had more.

  Summer looked at Lori. Then back at me. “The guy who's been bothering me, his name is Eugene. He said he's coming by today and I'm supposed to give him five hundred dollars.

  “He says it's insurance. He said people who don't pay have unfortunate accidents. Little mishaps like broken windows, cut power lines or unexplained fires. The kind of things that can put a person out of business.

  “I don't want to pay him. I know that if I do, he'll want more. But he scares me and I don't want to have to talk to him. That's why I want you here today. To deal with him when he shows up. Will you do that for me?”

  I took a deep breath. I didn't want to sell hot dogs. But I did want to talk to guy who was bothering her. That was the main reason we'd come to Key West. If talking to him meant I needed to run the stand while they were away, that's what I'd do.

  “So this guy who wants money, you think he's going to show up today?”

  Summer smiled. “Yes, he said he was coming to get his money. Said if I didn't pay him, there'd be trouble.”

  Before I could ask another question, a customer walked up and asked, “How much for a T-shirt?”

  I looked at Summer and she nodded at me. She wanted me to handle the sale.

  “Fifteen dollars.”

  “You have them in extra-large?”

  “I think so. How many you want?”

  “Just one. White.”

  The man slid a twenty across the counter and I took it. I looked in the cabinet where Summer kept the T-shirts and found them arranged by size. I pulled a white one from the stack labeled “Extra-large.” The man saw it and nodded. “Yeah, that's the one I want.”

  I rang up the sale and gave him his change.

  He smiled. “You're the Wiener Girl today?”

  “Yeah, it looks that way.”

  When he walked away, I turned to Lori and Summer. They were both smiling.

  Lori came over and hugged me. She whispered, “Thanks.”

  Before they took off, Summer went over everything again. She showed me how to run the steamer, where to find the trays of condiments and how to turn the air conditioning on and off. She said if there were any problems, call her. If things got out of hand, just shut everything down and lock it up.

  As she was leaving, she said, “Walker, two things you'll want to know. First, there's a bathroom at the back of the alley. If you need to use it, close up and go back there.

  “And second, you need to wear a Wiener Girl apron and a paper hat. Health department rules. No way around it.”

  She handed me a freshly starched apron and a hat. “Go ahead, put them on.”

  I looked at Lori and shook my head. She just smiled. “Put them on. I want to see.”

  Since I'd already agreed to stay and run the place while they were gone, I was committed. I pulled on the apron and put on the hat. I turned to Lori. “Go ahead, laugh. I dare you.”

  She smiled but didn't laugh. She held out her hand. “Car keys, please.”

  I tossed her the keys to the Prius and they left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ten minutes later, my first real customer showed up. A woman in her late twenties wearing a red tank top and jean shorts. She put a five on the counter and said, “Give me a sausage dog, corn chips and a diet Coke.”

  I left the five on the counter and turned to fill her order. Remembering how Summer had done it, I used tongs to put a potato bun in the steamer then used the same tongs to fish out a sausage dog from the cooker. I put the sausage in the bun, put the bun on the wrapper and wrapped it tight.

  I pulled a can of diet Coke from the cooler and put it along with the hot dog on the counter in front of the woman. I grabbed a bag of corn chips and slid it all over to her.

  “There you go. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, what about mustard and relish?”

  I'd forgotten about them. I looked at the condiment bins and decided that customers should dress the dogs themselves. I moved the squeeze bottle of mustard and the container of relish over onto the stainless steel counter so the woman could get to them.

  She said, “Thanks. You the Wiener Girl today?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. That's me. The Wiener Girl.”

  Over the next hour, I gave that same answer to thirty different customers. All wanted to know if I was the Wiener Girl.

  Many took selfies standing in front of the Wiener Girl trailer. A few asked me to pose in my Wiener Girl apron and paper hat. I felt a little foolish about it, but since everyone seemed to be having a good time, I played along.

  Around noon, customers started coming in faster than I could keep up. It was taking me about three minutes to put together an order, and with eight people in line, the people at the end were looking at a ten to fifteen minute wait.

  Fortunately, the alley where the trailer was parked was mostly in the shade and the people in line weren't in the hot sun. Only a few left without placing orders and after the noon rush things slowed back down.

  I was able to use the free time after the rush to clean up the mess I'd made while trying to fill orders. While I was doing this, a male voice asked, “Where's the Wiener Girl?”

  I turned to see a skinny white guy. Greasy hair, sleeveless T-shirt, fraying jean shorts. Looked to be in his early twenties. Looked like a heroin addict.

  “She's not here. Can I get you something?”

  “Yeah, you can ge
t me my money. There should be five hundred dollars for me somewhere in there.”

  “You Eugene?”

  “Yeah, that's me. She told you to pay me, right?”

  There weren't any other customers so I motioned for him to come to the back of the trailer. He walked around and I met him at the door.

  “Eugene, she told me you might show up. She wanted me to talk to you.

  “So here's the deal. The Wiener Girl is not going to give you any money, not today, not ever. You're not to come back and bother her. Is that understood?”

  At first, Eugene didn't say anything. Then he said, “You got it wrong. She pays me or bad things happen. Give me the money.”

  I shook my head. “Eugene, there’s no money. Not today. Not ever.”

  He dug into his pants pocket and retrieved a flick blade knife. He waved it in a figure eight and said, “I'm not leaving without the money. Either you pay me or you get cut. Your choice.”

  I stepped back in the trailer and grabbed the squeeze bottle of ketchup. Keeping the bottle behind me, I stepped out to face Eugene.

  He held the knife in front of him, holding the handle with his fist, blade down.

  I looked at him and smiled. “Eugene, you ever been in a knife fight?”

  He didn't answer.

  “I didn't think so. Let me show you what you're doing wrong. When you hold the knife that way in your fist with the blade pointing down, all I have to do is hit the top of your hand and your arm will swing down and you'll stab yourself either in your leg or your groin. It's going to hurt like hell.”

  He looked at the knife, moved his hand up and down and realized I was right. He quickly changed the way he was holding the knife. This time the blade was sticking straight out in my direction.

  I smiled again. “That's better. But to cut me, you have to move toward me. When you do, I'll smack the bottom of your arm and the blade will come up and hit you in the face. Or maybe your eye.”

  Eugene looked down at his hand, moved his arm up slightly and saw how if I hit it, it would arc the blade into his face. He stepped back.

  “What if I throw the knife at you? What are you going to do then?”

  I stretched my shoulders and Eugene flinched. I knew then I had spooked him. I took a deep breath and said, “If you throw the knife at me, I'm going to move out of the way then hammer you in the gut. When you bend over to catch your breath, I'll break your nose with my knee. There'll be a lot of blood. It'll look like this.”

  I brought the plastic ketchup bottle up from behind me and squeezed it hard, sending a stream of bright red ketchup into his face. The move caught him off guard. He wasn't sure whether I'd hit him or not. All he knew was a heavy liquid covered his face and was dripping down on his shirt.

  He looked down and saw that it was red.

  “You cut me! I'm bleeding.”

  He dropped the knife and moved back until he was up against the alley wall. He slumped against it and started crying.

  I walked over to him and held the ketchup bottle so he could see it. “Eugene, it's not blood. It's just ketchup. Sit down. Catch your breath.”

  He sat and I crouched down in front of him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Taste it. You'll see. It's just ketchup. It's not blood.”

  Eugene touched the red liquid on his cheek then put his finger in his mouth and tasted it. A wave of relief spread across his face. “It's ketchup. I thought it was blood. I thought you cut me.”

  I nodded. “Eugene, I could have easily taken the knife from you and cut you with it. But I didn't. And you're right, it's not blood. It's ketchup.”

  We were still in the alley behind the hot dog trailer, hidden from passersby. Eugene was a mess. Ketchup still covered his face and shirt, and to the casual observer, he looked like he was covered in blood.

  From behind me a voice asked, “Is the hot dog stand open?”

  “Yeah, I'll be right there.”

  I turned to Eugene. “Just sit here and relax. We'll talk about your money when I get back.”

  He nodded. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

  I went inside the trailer and took the man's order. Two sausage dog combos. I heated up the buns and got the order out in record time. After the customer left, I went back to check on Eugene.

  He was still crouched against the wall. His head in his hands. Sobbing.

  I squatted down in front of him and patted his shoulder. “Eugene, it'll be okay.”

  “No, it won't. Freddie's going to kill me. Freddie said I needed to get money from this girl or else. This was my last chance.”

  “Freddie? He your boss?”

  “Yeah. It was Freddie's idea to hit up the Wiener Girl. Said it'd be easy. He said just scare her and she'd pay. But so far, she hasn't. And Freddie said it's my fault. He said I haven't been trying hard enough.”

  I nodded. “Eugene, I think Freddie's wrong. You tried plenty hard. The problem might be with Freddie's plan. Maybe trying to collect money from a hot dog stand isn't a very good idea.”

  Eugene looked up with hope in his eyes. “You think I did a good job?”

  “Eugene, you did your best and that's what's important. A lot of bosses would appreciate that. Apparently Freddie doesn't. How many other guys does he have working for him? How many in his crew?”

  Eugene shook his head. “I shouldn't be telling you this. But I guess it don’t matter. Right now, it's just the three of us. Me, Freddie and Vincent. Freddie says that's enough. Easier to split the money that way.”

  I nodded. “How long you been with Freddie?”

  “Six weeks. I came to Key West looking for a job. Couldn't find anything. Didn't have any money or a place to sleep. Freddie found me sleeping under a bench and offered me a job. Collections he called it. Said I'd make plenty.

  “But it hasn't panned out that way. I haven't made any money. If I had any, I leave this place and head north.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “Any place I could find a job. I want to make enough to buy food and rent a room. Right now I'm eating at the soup kitchen and sleeping in alleys.”

  Behind me I heard another customer. I said, “Eugene, don't go anywhere. I might be able to help you out.”

  This time there were three of them, two women and a man. The man was older, the women in their mid-twenties. The girls looked like they had too much to drink. The man was standing between them, their arms over his shoulders for support. He put a twenty on the counter. “Three hot dog combos and three Cokes, sport.”

  I didn't like being called sport. Another time, another place I might have corrected him. But not today. I just turned and put together his order. Behind me, I could hear the girls laughing, chanting the words, “Wiener Girl, Wiener Girl, Wiener Girl.”

  When I turned around, the taller girl laughed and said, “You're not Wiener Girl. You're a man. You want to come party with us?”

  I smiled and put their order on the counter. I looked at the guy and asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

  He shook his head and gave each of the girls a hot dog and a drink. They stumbled away, chanting, “Wiener Girl, Wiener Girl, Wiener Girl.”

  I turned my attention back to Eugene, expecting him to be where I left him, leaning against the wall behind the trailer. But he wasn't there. He was gone.

  I checked to see if maybe he had moved to another wall but didn't find him. Thinking that maybe he decided to clean up in the bathroom at the end of the alley, I checked there. Again, no Eugene. He was gone.

  It shouldn't have bothered me, but I was worried about Eugene. I felt sorry for him. He was in way over his head, running with the wrong crowd. What his boss Freddie was trying to get him to do, to extort money from food truck operators like Wiener Girl, could get him hurt. Or killed.

  I was thinking about this when I heard another customer behind me. I turned to see what they wanted and was surprised to see Kat.

  She smiled. “So, they've go
t you selling wieners today. How'd that happen?”

  She was dressed in shorts, a tight NRA T-shirt and running shoes. Key West casual. She looked good. Better than good. I answered her question. “They ganged up on me. Told me a story about how they needed to spend time together. Said I'd only have to do it for an hour or two. And I fell for it.

  “They've been gone five hours. I've been stuck here selling hot dogs. Customers calling me 'Wiener Girl' all day. Speaking of hot dogs, you want one?”

  She shook her head. “No, not if you're fixing it.”

  I laughed. “You don't think I can put together a hot dog? Let me show you.”

  “Don't bother. I'm not hungry. I was running an errand when I saw you over here. I decided I better check it out. How's business?”

  “Good. I've sold a lot hot dogs today. You sure you don't want one?”

  “No, I don't want one. But if you want to take me to dinner, I might let you do that. It'd have to be tomorrow night. I've got plans for tonight. So tomorrow, does that work for you?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  “Good. Dinner. Me and you. I'll be at your place around seven.”

  She started to walk away but stopped and came back.

  “Walker, there is something else I need to talk to you about.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was standing inside the Wiener Girl trailer, Kat was standing outside. She'd just asked me to dinner and I agreed. Then she said she had something else she wanted to talk about.

  “Walker, Buck said you're some kind of computer expert. He said you did cyber security for big corporations. Is that true?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I used to do that.”

  “That's what Buck said. He also said you were fired from your last job. Why?”

  I wasn’t sure why she wanted to know or why Buck would be telling her about any of this, but I guessed it didn't matter.

  “Technically, I was laid off. Not fired. The company closed one of their plants, and decided I needed to go.”

  “Really? I thought they let you go because of what you found.”