Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(18)

“I can’t work like this,” Stretch said. “You gotta get Stegosaurus out of the prep area. And I need a sandwich maker.”

“I’m up,” Lula said. “Where’s my hat? Where’s my apron? Where’s the hot sauce?”

I moved Hal into a corner, and I joined Lula. “I’m getting the hang of this,” Lula said. “I need turkey. Get me more turkey. And put mayo on this roll for me. And add some pickles.”

“Wait,” I said. “This is an order for ham and cheese.”

“Say what?”

“You have to look at the ticket. You can’t just give them anything.”

“This here’s Surprise Day. It’s my new promotional idea. You order something and then you get a surprise. This guy’s surprise is a turkey sandwich. Give me some of that green stuff.”

“That’s wasabi.”

“No shit. I’m gonna wasabi the heck out of this sandwich.”

“Where’s my ham and cheese?” Stretch yelled. “Where’s my pastrami on rye?”

“Keep your shirt on,” Lula said. “I’m working under harsh circumstances. I can’t find no more turkey.”

“Fries are up,” Raymond said. “Rings are up.”

Stretch took the wasabi turkey from Lula, sliced it in half, and sucked in air.

“Damn,” he said. “I cut off part of my finger.”

I looked over and blood was all over his white chef’s jacket, dripping off his finger onto the cutting board.

“Somebody get a Band-Aid,” Lula said. “This boy needs a Band-Aid.”

Stretch calmly picked something off the cutting board and stuck it to his bloody finger. He wrapped a paper towel around it all, took a Band-Aid from Raymond, secured the towel with the Band-Aid, and held his hand above his head.

“No big deal,” he said. “I’ve done this before.”

“Yes, this happens many times,” Raymond said. “He must go to get his finger stitched back on now.”

Hal was standing next to me. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he crashed to the floor.

“This big man just fell to the floor,” Raymond said.

“He faints when he sees blood,” I said. “He’ll come around.”

“I must return to my fry station,” Raymond said. “I have many orders of onion rings that must be done to perfection.”

“Take Stretch to the emergency room to get stitched up,” I said to Lula. “Hal and I will take over here.”

Everyone looked down at Hal. Lula toed him with her Louboutin knockoffs. Hal opened his eyes and blankly stared at the ceiling.

“What?” Hal said.

“You fainted,” I told him. “Stay down until I get things cleaned up.”

“Okay,” Hal said. “Don’t tell Ranger.”

Dalia and I scrubbed everything with soap and bleach. I changed out the cutting board. I got Hal to his feet.

“Are you any good at making sandwiches?” I asked him.

“Yeah. I make good sandwiches. The trick is to put the mustard on the meat side and never use lettuce. Lettuce is for sissies.”

I got him dressed up in a hat and apron and handed him a takeout order for six people.

“You do the takeouts, and I’ll do the table orders,” I told Hal.

He looked at the slip of paper. “No problem. I can do this, but there’s no sliced turkey in the container labeled turkey.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is Surprise Day. Be creative.”





CHAPTER EIGHT


THE DELI WAS empty by two o’clock. I suspected most of the customers would never return. I did my best, but I was at the bottom of a learning curve. I had mustard in my hair, ketchup on my shirt, my workstation was a mess, and the floor was a health hazard.

“It is a very good thing that Stretch is not here to see this disgrace,” Raymond said. “He would poop himself.”

“Let’s just clean up and move forward,” I said.

I was praying that Stretch would be able to work the dinner shift. The dinner menu included hot sandwiches that involved gravy and melted cheese. This was way beyond my culinary skills.

“The dinner customers will be easier to please,” Raymond said. “You can hide the ugliness of your sandwich making under a generous portion of gravy. They will not know what they are eating.”

“I don’t know how to make gravy,” I said.

“You do not make gravy,” Raymond said. “Gravy comes in five-gallon tubs. You might not have noticed them because the gravy tubs are very similar to the tubs of rice pudding and lard. In fact, once when Stretch was very stoned he gave a woman a dish of lard in place of the rice pudding. It was extremely funny.”

I thought this must be fry-cook humor. And I hoped he never told that story to Lula because she took her rice pudding seriously.

The kitchen was almost clean when Lula and Stretch returned. Stretch had a bandage wrapped around his finger. Lula was carrying a grocery bag.

“We would have got back sooner, but we stopped for turkey and stuff,” Lula said. “How’d lunch go?”

“Lunch was great,” I said. “Easy peasy.”