Over Easy

Waffle Flux Contest Entry

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Just a quick note of thanks to the folks at Sum Flux for the opportunity to take part in this contest. Specifically, Sandalore Sykes, Wendy Russell and of course the judges, Jon T, Will Boucher and Keith Long deserve recognition for making this kind of thing possible. It is no small endeavor. Sincere thanks to all of you and my fellow writers as well, who submitted their stories. Win or lose, I had a blast writing this fictional but fact-based story below…

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The ‘55, turquoise colored Chevy Bel Air glided slowly by 2719 East College Avenue in the small town of Avondale Estates. The day was hot, mostly cloudy, with the blazing Georgia sun making an occasional appearance. Joe saw that the outside shell and roof of the place was done at least, a construction crew of three was working on the real job now, the interior.

Tom Forkner was driving and he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He leaned down and over the bench seat for a better look at the building and stole a look up at his partner. “She’s coming along ain’t she? Main counter and pedestal diner seats are going in today. Cooler and freezer, already up and running. What do you think, Joey?”

Joe Rogers didn’t return the look, his eyes still fixed on the building. “I think we got one short week before Labor Day…that’s what I think.”

“Don’t you worry none ‘bout that son. They’re busier in there than one legged men in an ass kick’n contest.” Forkner straightened back up and drove on, putting his turning light on. “Let’s go around the block and come back. Have us a little peek inside.”

Joe rolled his eyes and finally looked over. “Don’t you try all that good ol’ boy stuff with me. Every time you’re nervous you turn on that car salesman talk and when you get nervous, there’s surely trouble up ahead. Now I’m even more on edge.”

Tom laughed, bunched his shoulders and leaned away as if to dodge a blow, then he eased the car around the corner.

Holding a finger up, Joe wasn’t done. “Plus, that’s how you sounded four or five years ago when you sold me that overpriced bungalow for ten grand.”

“Not a whole lotta difference between the accents of a Tennessee boy and a Georgia boy, Joey. ‘Sides, you bought that house for a song.”

“It was twelve grand a month later, after the plumbing went to hell in a handbasket.” Joe’s face finally hinted at a smile. “Water every damn where…Ruthie liked to kill me, and you by the way.”

“Well yeah, that was a misfortune. An act of God…you must have done something terrible to bring his wrath.” Tom grinned at his own joke as he fished out his Luckies from his shirt pocket.

Rogers held a hand out across the seat and wiggled his fingers. “Gimme one a them, boss.”

“Since when?” Forkner raised his eyebrows and chuckled, handing the pack over. “Thought you quit a ways back?”

“Since about a minute ago when we drove past the place that’s gonna put us both in the poor house. I didn’t smoke like a chimney until I met you.” Joe rolled down the window on his side and lit up. He exhaled slowly and the smoke trailed out and away. “Just helps to take the edge off a little.”

“Look Joe, you’re the food guy and even you said we had a good idea here.” Forkner glanced over at his best friend and his ever present smile faltered for a moment, but then recovered. “Without you though, we don’t have a chance in hell. I’m a lawyer for Chrissakes. I run my daddy’s real estate company. We both know those two things don’t amount to a hill of beans when it comes to running that little waffle house.”

Joe pointed to the curb. “Pull over here Tom, before we get back around the block.”

“Uh oh.”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Rogers shook his head. “You know me, it’s always ‘the sky is falling’ and all that. Just how I am. How I’m built, how I prepare myself. Look Tom, here’s something else we both know. You’re the brains of this outfit. The army didn’t put you in Intelligence and workin’ on that Manhattan project…thing, because of how sharp you dress. So just remember, without you and that mind of yours, we also don’t have a chance in hell.”

Tom Forkner pursed his lips and locked eyes with Joe, but he didn’t respond.

Rogers pointed up with a finger. “You know, I remember during the war every time I took that B24 up I was sure, positive in fact…positive that the only way I was coming back down was in a ball of flames.” He gave his partner a sad smile and then twirled his finger downward. “My whining around is just how I cope with things.”

“So, you’re not getting cold feet on this?”

“Cold? Sure, ice cold, but no I ain’t going anywhere. Hell no. You remember what I told you back when we first started noodling this hairbrained idea around of being open 24 hours a day, having a small limited menu and everything centered around waffles? Basically servin’ breakfast all day and night with the exception of throwing a steak on the plate if they want one?”

“Well, you’ve told me a lot of things.”

“Yessir, I have, but there was that one time. That one time I told you that if you build a restaurant, I’ll show you how to run it.”

“You did.”

“I did, and I sure as hell meant it. I’ll always answer the dang bell. Now let’s go and like you said, take us a look around inside. Whaddya say?”

Amazed at the mood change, Tom drug his eyes away from Rogers and put the car back in drive. They slowly pulled away from the curb and he figured the time was right, so he rattled off the list in his mind. “Front sign’ll be here on Tuesday. Printer still saying the menus are coming soon but I had some cross words with him. He’s slower than cold molasses but it’s too late now to switch.”

Joe stared straight ahead and nodded. “Stay on that crooked bastard, Tommy. Uniforms?”

“Yup, I will. Aprons are already at my house, the rest is coming tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget, all my kitchen stuff is coming tomorrow too. Appliances, plates, cups, pots, pans, utensils…everything. They’re going to park the storage truck around back so you and I can piecemeal the stuff in there as we go.”

They turned back onto East College Avenue and Tom’s eyes were glued to their small building as it came into view. “I know you got it covered Joe but how about…the food?”

“Not delivered until the day before we open. Everything is coming in together, fresh as possible. Told the food supply company VP, told him right across his big desk that if we get shorted anything, even one damn egg, one can of coffee - or they’re late, I’m coming for his head.”

Forkner slowed the Bel Air. “What are we forgetting, partner?”

“Probably three or four things but we’ll handle them on the run, as they come. That’s the nature of the restaurant business. Things happen, or they don’t happen, and you go with it.”

They parked right in front and Tom shut the engine off. Both stared at the building in silence.

Joe finally broke the spell. “I told you about the hires I made last week, right?” He pulled out a small notepad.

“No, but I hope one of them was that short order cook we met earlier on, name was…what? Merl or something? Guy could cook.”

“Burl. Too slow, couldn’t juggle three or four things at a time like a short order should, and he had the personality of an alley cat.” Joe shrugged and started reading from his notes. “Found two young cooks that’ll be great. One was workin’ at a hotel restaurant over in Decatur and the other in a diner off of Route 10. Had them both in my kitchen at home on separate occasions and I threw them a couple three different orders at a time. Diamonds in the rough. Names are Billy Peete and Jerome Bettincourt. You’re gonna love them Tom. I’ll be back there cooking with them to start out. One’ll work days and the other, nights.”

“Sounds good for starters, Joe”

Rogers tapped his finger on the notepad. “Also, out of nine girls, I found four waitresses. Sweet as them pies we’re gonna be selling, with real smiles that are genuine and light up a room. I had them all smile for me as a matter of fact. Nothin’ worse than a fake smile. Ruthie sat in for the interviews. Anyway, two girls for each shift. Workin’ on some other hires to fill in.”

“So a staff of six, seven including you? I mean…Joe?”

“Gonna treat ‘em good too. Like family, like blood kin. One gal, uh…” He looked down at his notes again. “Uh…Lorretta. Loretta Tully, day shift, will be perfect but she has a two year old daughter and a no good husband that walked out on her. Well, Ruthie came to the rescue on babysittin’ that little girl at our house. I won’t be hiring just anybody all willy-nilly like, so there will be long hours and no days off for a while but these new people are excited Tom, hungry for work. Along with good food, we’re gonna kill our customers with kindness. Good, quick, down home service will be our ace in the hole.”

“Well damn, you been busy. Alright then. You know I trust you on all this, Joe. Let’s go have a look see.”

They stopped at the front door and Tom paused looking down then back up at the sky. Just then, as if on cue, there was a break in the clouds and the sun popped out. “You know I got a real good feeling about all this Joey. Someday, who knows, we might build us another one of these huh? How many does it take to be considered a chain, anyway?”

“Now see, that, that right there, is countin’ chickens before they hatch. You talked me off the ledge earlier, You got me this far but don’t push your luck bubba.” Joe flashed the biggest smile he had all day and clapped Tom Forkner on the back. “Let’s see if we even get out of the gate with this one first. Take her one step at a time, right? Gotta flip those eggs quick and all, but over easy at the same time.”

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