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Chapter 1
Ava
Ava and Hailey’s Crab Truck had an unofficial motto – 'The Best Crab Cakes in Seattle, Served With a Side of Sass.’
The motto was in the forefront of my mind as a pair of smirking guys approached, almost certainly students from one of the colleges in town. Sure enough, their oversized University of Washington Seattle hoodies confirmed my suspicion.
“Next!” I barked out, my voice carrying over the sizzle of the deep fryer behind me and through the din of Pike Place Market. The streets around us were bustling with the usual lunch crowd all lined up in front of their favorite food trucks and stalls of choice. My line was long as usual, dozens of people patiently waiting in their big coats and wool hats, little puffs of steam coming from their mouths as they braced against the autumn chill.
The instant the college guys approached, I could tell by the shit-eating grins on their faces what was about to come out of their mouths.
“What can I get for you boys?” I asked, already eager to get the exchange out of the way.
“We… we were wondering,” said the first, already snickering.
The other couldn’t wait any longer. His eyes wide, his smile huge, he shot out the words.
“Do you have cra—”
And that was all he’d get out.
“Do I havecrabs?” I asked, leaning forward on the sill of the order window. “Is that what you were going to ask? Do I have crabs?”
The smirks on their faces vanished, replaced by shock and embarrassment. It was already pretty damn clear that this exchange wasn’t going the way they’d envisioned.
“Like crabs?” I asked. “Both the crustaceanandthe STD, right?” I let out a mocking laugh. “Guys, that’s so funny, seriously. You know what’s crazy? Me and Hales here,” I stuck my thumb out over my shoulder toward Hailey Straus, my coworker, half-sister, and best friend, who let out a grunt from her station at the fryer, “have been in this business for a year now and if you can believe it, no one hasevermade that joke before.”
The guys kept right on staring, regarding me with the same dumb expression.
“When you hear a joke that funny, that clever, you can’t help but wonder about the creative process, you know? Like, what kind of brilliant mind, orminds, in this case, were able to come up with something like that?” I snapped my fingers, as if getting it. “Let me guess… you two both happened to come down with a case of the crabs at the same time? I can picture it now; both of you washing up after a heated wrestling practice, both looking down and seeing that your junk had some tiny hitchhikers? That it?”
The boys said nothing but laughs sounded out in the line behind them.
“Look,” I said, raising my palms. “I get it, life happens. Pretty sure they can blast them out with UV light or something these days. Might be worth looking in to. In the meantime, can I offer you boys something delicious to eat?”
I nodded toward the big menu on the side of the truck, where there were two items, and two items only, listed.
“We’ve got the classic crab sandwich,” I said, directing my words to the rest of the crowd just as much as the stunned boys ahead of me. “That’s a succulent, crispy, four-ounce crab cake made from the finest Dungeness crab pulled straight from Elliot Bay behind me. The sauceandbread are made in-house, served with a side of homemade coleslaw, also fresh and in-house, and kettle chips. We’ve got the crab cake served bun less, for those of you doing the keto thing, but other than that… what’s the rule, Hales?”
“No substitutions!” she called out over her shoulder as she pulled a basket of freshly fried cakes up and out of the oil.
“No substitutions!” I repeated. “Or would you like our cream of crab soup? Thick and creamy and perfect for a classic Seattle day like today.” I nodded up toward the thick, gray clouds above, the tops of the downtown towers disappearing into their banks. “To wash it all down, we’ve got freshly squeezed lemonade and fresh-brewed iced tea.”
The spiel complete, I leaned forward and flashed the boys a smile that sent the message that, so long as they behaved themselves, their business was more than welcome.
“Uh, two sandwiches,” said the one on the left.
“Same for me,” said the other. “And an iced tea.”
“There!” I replied with a smile. “Now, isn’t it nicer for everyone when we don’t try out our comedy routines during the lunch hour?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Four sandos all day!”
“Heard!” Hailey shouted back.
Hailey, the sandwich-making machine that she was, wasted no time plating up four sandwiches and all the fixings, setting them on the counter next to me.
I handed the four plates over, the college boys swiping their cards and putting in a generous tip let me know they’d been properly chastened. The exchange complete, I waved them off. As they hurried away from the line, I watched as they took huge bites of their crab cake sandwiches, doing their best to juggle the pair of plates in each hand. Just as I’d anticipated, they stopped as they chewed, their eyes going wide as the flavor hit them.
They both turned, giving me a big thumbs-up. I responded with a cheeky salute and a smile, knowing that I’d likely secured another pair of regulars.
