Mustard on Top

by Wanda Degolier

  “What are you doing here?” Helen asked.

  Theo shrugged. She’d press him after they closed. Leaning across the counter, Helen assessed the length of the line.

  “Theo, will you go tell the last person in line they’ll get the last order? Stay out there to let anyone new know we’re closing.” Agatha would have a fit if she found out they’d turned down business, but Agatha hadn’t spent the day on her feet.

  Theo agreed, and Helen turned to an older, gray-haired woman. “How are you today?”

  The woman kept her gaze on the counter. “Two DerFoodle Dogs please.” She flushed pink.

  Helen entered the order. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No thank you.”

  “A side? Some fries, coleslaw—”

  The woman shook her head no.

  “Dessert? We have—”

  “No thank you.”

  “That’s $6.08.”

  Never glancing up, the woman counted out exact change and set it on the counter.

  “Thank you.” Helen put the money in her overflowing register.

  As she took the next order, Ben handed the shy, older woman her bag of hot dogs. To Helen’s astonishment, the woman opened her toaster-sized purse and stuffed the bag inside before hurrying away.

  A half hour later, the last customer left. Helen began wiping down the counters, when Theo touched her shoulder. “Have you eaten lately?” he asked.

  “Oh Geez. I meant to.”

  “Sit down and eat. We’ll clean up.”

  Helen didn’t want to, but agreed. She grabbed a banana from a bowl and took a few bites before making herself a cheese sandwich with a hot dog bun. While she ate, she started the daily sales report. Their archaic register spit the information on receipt tape, noting every single sale. It took an hour and wasted half a role of paper to churn out the data, so she left it to do other things.

  When her other employees left for the night, Helen approached Theo.

  “You never told me why you came in.”

  Theo continued to wipe an already clean counter. “I wanted to.”

  “Hmm. Things okay with you and Emma?” Helen asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Theo, look at me.”

  Theo stopped scrubbing and made eye contact. “What?”

  “What’s wrong, honey? Is it?” She jutted a hidden thumb toward Ben.

  Theo exhaled. “No. Emma’s moving to New York.”

  Helen wasn’t surprised, Emma had mentioned Nalley was too small. “When?”

  “At the end of the month when her lease is up.”

  Helen touched his arm. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “It’s not just her. Most of my friends have left Nalley.” He scowled. “ Emma doesn’t want a long-distance relationship, so we’re breaking up. I didn’t feel like being alone tonight.”

  Ben walked up to them. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Theo shot Helen a glance communicating his problems were not up for discussion.

  “We’re good,” Helen said.

  “So tell me, do you always have such a weird mix of customers? Did you see that woman stuffed two hot dogs in her purse?” Ben asked.

  Helen laughed. “She would not look me in the eye.”

  “The customers have been totally weird,” Theo agreed. “It’s like we’re busier than ever, but hardly anyone’s eating here. And have you noticed how few people have been on the boardwalk lately?”

  “That’s because they’re standing in line here,” Ben quipped.

  “It is bizarre,” Helen agreed. “Like something out of a Stephen King novel.”

  “Who’s Stephen King?” Theo asked.

  Helen rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

  The sales report dangled from the register like a giant white tail. Helen folded it many times before reaching the summary portion. “Oh my gosh.”

  “What?” Ben and Theo asked in unison.

  “We cleared twenty-five hundred dollars today.”

  “Wow,” Theo said.

  Helen studied the report. “The DerFoodle Dog was seventy-three percent of our hot dog sales. Weird.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Theo answered.

  “Have you tried one?” Helen asked Theo.

  He scrunched up his face. “Nah.”

  “You Ben?”

  “Not yet. I’ll have one now though. I’m starved.”

  Theo went to retrieve one from the walk-in refrigerator when Helen called, “Put one on for me too. I’m going to do some market research.”

  While the hot dogs cooked, Ben and Helen finished closing. Minutes later, Theo set two hot dogs on the counter. “Order up.”

  Sitting next to each other, Ben picked his up and turned it side-to-side. It was made with a whole-wheat bun, and topped with cilantro, lettuce, pepperoncini, and onions. “Here goes,” he said and took a bite. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Of course it’s good. It’s one of my special recipes,” Helen teased before chomping down on her own. “Wow, the DerFoodle is better than I remember.”

  “What is the combination of spices? This is outstanding.” Ben had wolfed down half.

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “You want another one, Dad?” Theo asked.

  “I’ll make it,” Ben answered. “You relax.”

  Theo, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, shrugged. Ben got another hot dog and placed it on the cooker.

  “This is good, but I wouldn’t wait half an hour for one,” Helen said. She’d eaten three-quarters.

  “Oh—” Ben’s eyes went wide.

  “What. What’s wrong?” Helen asked.

  Ben took the hot dog off the maker and switched the oven off.

  “What is—?” Helen’s mouth dropped open when it felt as if someone had taken a hot, wet towel and caressed her female parts. Helen shifted position, trying to lessen the tingling. The movement made the stronger. Of their own volition, her eyes sought the bulge in Ben’s jeans. A fresh jolt of lust lit her libido, and she forced herself to look away.

  “Now we know what all the fuss is about,” Ben said.

  “What?” Theo said. “Should I try one?”

  “NO.” Helen and Ben responded simultaneously.

  “Why? What’s wrong with you Mom? You’re all red. Are you hot or something?”

  “Hot? Yes. Maybe some ice water would help.” Helen’s voice had raised in pitch. She got up and got her and Ben both ice water.

  “Are they spicy? Like a spice that kicks in afterward or something?”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Ben said.

  Helen had a hard time concentrating. Years had passed since her overheated parts had attention? The ice water dropped from her hand and hit the floor. She grabbed a towel to clean up.

  “Mom.” Theo sounded angry. “I knew you hadn’t eaten enough.”

  “I have eaten. I’m fine.” Heat rose to her face. All she could think about was sex. Sex with Ben, but if history replayed itself, sex would turn Ben into an asshole.

  “Sit down. I’m making you another hot dog,” Theo demanded.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Helen said.

  “She can have this one.” Ben grinned as he offered the hot dog he gotten earlier.

  “Thanks Ben.” Helen tried to give him an angry look, but when their eyes met, she noticed how long his lashes were and how his lips were perfectly shaped. “I’m exhausted. I think it’s time to go home.”

  “Do those hot dogs make you high or something? You’re both acting weird,” Theo said.

  “What? How am I acting weird?” Ben sounded surprised.

  “You keep biting your bottom lip and staring at…” Theo shook his head and walked away.

  Ben cleared his throat. “I better take your mom home. Can you close up?”

  Helen’s motherly instincts kicked in. “I don’t like leaving him here by himself. Let’s lock up together,
and I’ll come in early tomorrow to finish the paperwork.”

  “Don’t forget you’re going skydiving tomorrow,” Theo said. “Seth asked me to remind you.”

  Helen’s private parts were on fire and pleading for attention. “I know.”

  “He’s got the hots for you,” Theo said.

  “Don’t talk about your mother that way,” Ben said. “It’s disrespectful.”

  Ben’s outburst surprised Helen.

  “What? It’s true.” Theo defended himself.

  “Boys,” Helen said. When her gaze dropped to Ben’s crotch unbidden again, she pressed her palms to her eyes.

  “Would you two just go home? You’re embarrassing me, and regardless of what you think, Mom, I can close up here.”

  “I don’t think you can’t close up,” Helen said.

  Theo’s shoulders raised and fell on a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “I think we should go,” Ben said.

  Helen would have argued the point but Ben’s broad shoulders, muscular arms, and long, lean body were distracting. “Oh-kay.”

  She forced herself to look back to Theo. “Go ahead and close. I trust you.”

  After putting the cash drawer in the safe, Helen got her things together while Ben lowered the wall that attached to the counter and enclosed the building.

  “I’m ready,” Helen said.

  “Helen, didn’t you say you wanted to bring that specials board home so you could clean it?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll just get it.”

  As Ben reached for the board, the outline of his erection caught her attention. “Mmm.”

  “What?” Theo asked.

  Helen caught Theo studying her. “What?”

  “You said something.”

  “No I didn’t.” At least she hoped she hadn’t. Helen blew out a frustrated breath then realized Ben was getting the menu board to hide himself.

  “Good thinking, Ben. That board does need cleaning. It lifts” —a crack splintered the air as the board broke in half—“up.” Helen finished.

  “Oops.” Ben held the top half of the board in front of his crotch.

  “How about we clean this half today and the other half tomorrow,” Helen said.

  “I can’t wait to try one of those hot dogs,” Theo muttered under his breath.

  “See you later, honey.” Helen waved even though Theo was only a few feet away. “Come on Ben.” They left the building and started down the boardwalk.

  “Hey aren’t you forgetting something?” Theo called.

  Helen spun around. “What?”

  Theo held out two large, white bags. “Your daily delivery.”

  Helen jogged back; she was losing it. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 10

  Agatha held her breath and listened. The lock on the back door had clicked. She heard the door open and close. Dread and relief vied for her attention. There were footfalls and the crunch of paper. Her heart sped up as the person drew near. The entryway light was flicked on and Agatha squirmed, trying to see the intruder. One abnormally large body was silhouetted in the light. Moe. He glanced at her before walking toward the kitchen.

  Angry, Agatha gritted her teeth making the tape on her mouth tug her skin taut. There was more crinkling of paper before Moe padded into the living room and sat on the antique chair opposite the settee.

  He leaned over so their eyes were level. “I want to discuss business with you. Promise not to scream, and I’ll take the tape off.”

  Business! As if! Agatha’s scowl tugged at her tender cheeks, so she stopped. She’d do anything to be untied, and nodded her agreement.

  “I think this might sting a little,” Moe said.

  Agatha’s gaze followed Moe’s fingers as he reached for her mouth. Cross-eyed, she watched as his neatly trimmed nail wedged beneath the duct tape. The tug pulled her skin, but the tape didn’t come free. Apparently, losing his patience, Moe yanked harder.

  “Ooouuu…” Agatha’s screech grew louder as more of her mouth was exposed.

  “Shh,” Moe said.

  “Unctie me.” With a third of her lips exposed, she exaggerated her lip movements.

  “What?”

  “Unctie me, pwease.”

  “Untie you?”

  Agatha nodded.

  Moe’s puckered his lips and twisted them to the side appearing as though he were considering the request. “You promise not to leave?”

  She nodded again.

  “I’ve never actually untaped a person. This might take a while.”

  After pulling on the tape around her wrists for a few excruciating minutes, Moe pulled out his knife. Agatha’s heart rate jumped and she flinched. Moe seemed not to notice. He cut her hands free.

  With silver duct tape still stuck to her wrists, Agatha touched fingertips to her wounded mouth. She’d take the rest off slowly. She didn’t want to peel off five layers of skin. She rolled her shoulders back. The bittersweet relief felt as if shards of glass were being wedged between her joints.

  “I beed a brink,” Agatha mumbled.

  “Huh?” Moe bent closer.

  “A brink, brink, d-rink,” Agatha managed.

  “Oh.” Moe padded to the kitchen and returned with a soda from Hot Diggitys. “Coke okay?”

  Agatha never drank soda, but she was too thirsty to care. She reached for the cup and, placing the straw in the gap between her lips, gulped. When she finished, she set the cup on the table next to her.

  “My pheet pto,” Agatha slurred.

  “What?”

  She pointed toward her feet and Moe sliced through the tape.

  Her wide, floppy, silver-gray anklets matched her wide-floppy, silver-gray bracelets. Agatha stood. Her body quaked in protest, and she drew in several determined breaths before walking toward the bathroom. Moe followed. When she tried to close the door, he blocked it with his foot. “No closed doors.”

  “I needb pto use da phacilities.” Agatha reached through the crack in the door and pushed on his chest. He didn’t budge.

  “You’ll have to go with the door open.”

  Agatha’s resignation made her deflate. She hurt all over, plus her bladder didn’t care about modesty. Reminding herself she intended to win the war, not every battle, she gave up.

  “No wooking,” she said through the crack.

  “I won’t look.” Moe sounded as though she’d offended him.

  She did her business and when she flushed the toilet, Moe opened the door wider. Ignoring his watchful gaze, Agatha opened the medicine cabinet, plucked out a bottle of baby oil, and applied it to the edges of the duct tape where it attached to her skin.

  “This could take all day,” Moe complained.

  Agatha glared at him until he threw his hands in the air, sat on the toilet, and waited. Not wanting to undo years of using expensive creams and performing time-consuming skin care, Agatha worked slowly and methodically to detached the tape. Moe’s sighs and conspicuous glances at his watch did not speed her up.

  When she finished, she examined the results in the mirror. Two thirds of her mouth, chin, and upper lip matched the skin tone of the rest of her face, while the section where Moe had pulled the tape off was an angry, bright pink. She shot Moe an angry look.

  “Agatha,” Moe said.

  Agatha held up one finger, and Moe fell silent. She filled a cup with water, drank, and then went to work on the duct tape stuck to her wrists and ankles.

  “Done?” Moe asked a half-hour later.

  Agatha walked out. “I smell food,” she said walking into the kitchen. Upon seeing two Hot Diggitys bags on the counter, she flinched. Suddenly wary, Agatha wondered if Moe knew about Helen and Jeremy or if his purchase from Hot Diggitys was a coincidence. “Are these for us?” She gestured toward the bags.

  “The food’s cold now.”

  “What made you pick Hot Diggitys?” She tried for nonchalance.

  “A certain lady seemed to have a lot of paper
work concerning them. Naturally, my interest was piqued.”

  Deciding to disregard his statement, Agatha picked up the bags and carried them to the dining room. “How thoughtful of you to bring food.”

  Moe collected plates and utensils and followed her out. “Shall we eat?”

  “Certainly.”

  Agatha opened her hot dog. Topped with cilantro and a pepperoncini it didn’t look like any hot dog she’d ever eaten. She took a bite. The hot dog’s flavor was unique, a cinnamon, hickory taste with a spicy kick.

  “Which hot dogs is this?”

  Moe finished chewing. “Excuse me?”

  “Which hot dog off their menu?” Agatha asked again.

  “Oh I don’t know. Their best seller.”

  The DerFoodle Dog.

  “Somehow I didn’t picture you liking hot dogs,” Moe said.

  Agatha glanced at his plate. He’d already devoured his first hot dog. “Who doesn’t love hot dogs? They’re all-American like apple pie.”

  With pursed lips, he set his hot dog on his plate. “You act like you expected me to show up, untie you, and feed you.”

  “Setting me free was the only thing that made sense. Would you like some ketchup?” Agatha took finished off her hot dog.

  Moe glanced at his food. “Yeah, sure.”

  Agatha slid the bottle toward him then picked up a fry. She hadn’t eaten French fries in years. “Bringing dinner was a nice touch,” she said. A warm tingling sensation in her breasts caught her off guard. She dropped the fry on her plate and stood up.

  “Would you like some water?”

  Moe cleared his throat. “Sure.”

  A tickle in her crotch distracted her. I’m too old for this, Agatha thought as she filled two glasses and returned. She tried to appear demure as she set a glass in front of Moe and took a swig of her own. The ice didn’t help.

  Agatha picked at her fries until Moe abruptly stood and took both their plates to the sink. She should have been angry, instead she was enchanted by his long legs and broad shoulders which tapered to his narrow waist.

  She rolled her shoulders. They still smarted from the way she’d been immobilized. The humiliation of the experience sobered her desire and renewed her sense of purpose. A hazy memory of Moe talking to her while she lay on the settee floated freely in her mind. She waited for him to sit.