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Once they were gone, a wealthy-looking woman approached; she was decked out in a Canada Goose jacket worn over Lululemon gear, an expensive handbag dangling from her wrist.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Now, I know the sign says no substitutions, but—”
“No substitutions means no substitutions!” Hailey and I replied at the same time. It was something we’d had to make clear on more than one occasion.
The woman’s eyes flashed, and I got the sense right away that she was the type of person who wasn’t used to being told no, let alone in such a direct way.
She cleared her throat, running her fingertips through her hair nervously.
“Well then, one crab cake with no bun, please. And an iced tea. Oh! And a soup… I’ve heard such wonderful things about it.”
I grinned, eager to see how quickly she was able to play ball.
“One bun less all day and a cup of soup!”
“Heard!”
The tray was at my side in seconds, and I pulled out an iced tea to go along with it.
“Enjoy!” I said, handing the meal over as the woman swiped her card.
She offered a pursed-lipped smile, and I turned my attention to the next customers in line, noticing that the line seemed to have doubled in the time it’d taken for me to explain our no substitutions rule.
This was what I lived for. I got into rush mode, taking one customer after the other, calling out orders to Hailey and passing plate after plate after bowl to the hungry people in line. Now and then, I’d take a second or two to look at the crowd around the truck, dozens and dozens of people all huddled up taking big bites out of their sandwiches, shaking their heads at one another as if they couldn’t believe the flavors.
Through it all, Hailey and I served up some of our patented sass to the customers. Not all of the people in line were rule-breakers and joke-makers—plenty were regulars who came just as much for the banter as they did the deliciousness that Hailey and I offered.
I loved the chaos, loved the business, loved the chit-chat with the customers.
It was the perfect day for working the truck. Outside was chilly and brisk, but inside it was nice and toasty, Hailey and I wearing our work T-shirts with the sleeves rolled up, which allowed Hailey to show off the patchwork tattoos that decorated her upper arms.
About halfway into the lunch rush, however, I spotted someone who didn’t look like he was from the area. A man, tall and broad shouldered, dressed in a black trench coat with a black sweater underneath, dark blue jeans and leather boots, approached the vicinity of the truck.
It was impossible not to note right away how damn handsome he was. His hair was dark blonde and close-cropped, his eyes steely and gray, eyebrows dark and thick, all set above a square jaw and sharp cheekbones. He was tall, too, towering over the rest of the customers. It was easy to tell that he was powerfully built, even with his sweater and coat. His composure was calm and focused, the chaos of Pike’s Market not bothering him in the slightest.
His eyes were on me, those steely grays locked onto mine. I should’ve been unnerved, and I was, a little. But there was also something about him that made my mouth water even more than our fantastic crab cakes.
“Yo, Av!”
“Huh?”
I shook my head, coming back into the moment.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You gonna help these fine people in line?”
I turned my attention back to the line of customers who I’d totally forgotten about over the course of the few moments I’d been distracted by the man. The couple in front of me stood with confused expressions on their faces.
“Uh, sorry,” I said. “Just got distracted by the beautiful day, you know?”
The couple turned slowly and looked up at the gray sky, as if they were missing something. Then, as if on cue, a light mist started down from above.
“What can I get you?”
The couple ordered their meals, and I was soon back in the groove. As I handed their plates and tea over, I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of where the man had been standing. He was no longer where he had been, instead having taken cover under one of the many awnings used by customers from the various food trucks. He had a pen and small notebook in his hands, jotting something down.
I turned my attention back to the customers, trying my best to ignore the strange, impossibly handsome guy who’d been staring at me only a few moments ago. I served a few more patrons but found it hard to get back into my normal, jokey mode.
