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Authors: Lexi Archer
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freezing my ass off because the tank top I wore underneath wasn’t going to cut it.
“Clean up that mess and go make a new sundae,” I said.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Madison snapped back.
Like magic Mr. Reynolds appeared between us. He would’ve looked comical if I didn’t know him so well. He had a wide smile on his face even though two of his workers looked like they were about to start clawing at each other. His handlebar mustache was almost ridiculous looking, but it seemed to fit on his wide jolly face. Everything about him seemed larger-than-life and happy. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him get mad in my life, and I’d been working at the Freeze Hut for the past six years every summer.
“What’s the problem here?” Mr. Reynolds asked.
“Kylie here needs to watch where the hell she’s going,” Madison said.
Mr. Reynolds’ eyebrows lowered, but his face didn’t quite reach what I’d consider a frown. He put his hands on his hips and looked back to me.
“What happened Kylie?”
“Madison was moving ice cream through the cash corridor,” I said.
Mr. Reynolds shook his head and clicked his tongue several times. “Madison, we’ve had this conversation a few times before. You need to keep ice cream out of the cash corridor so people can take orders.”
Madison turned to stare at me and she was fuming. I was proud that I resisted the urge to smile. Instead I just shrugged and went over to the cash register to finish filling that family’s order. I’d have to clean up after.
Mr. Reynolds looked like he was about to pull Madison aside and have a refresher conversation with her about workflow and staying out of the cash corridor, but before he could pull her to the back a low rumble in the distance caught all of our attention. I turned to the window and saw the family standing there looking off in the distance, their eyes wide. They hadn’t even gotten their ice cream, hell, I hadn’t even gotten them their change, but in an instant they were bustling down the boardwalk away from the Freeze Hut as quickly as they could move.
I turned to Mr. Reynolds, my eyes wide. “Should I board up the windows?”
But once again Mr. Reynolds surprised me. He laughed, his mustache shaking along with his stomach as he did so.
“Why would we want to do something like that?”
“But that’s…”
“That rumbling noise is the sound of paying customers,” Mr. Reynolds said.
His eyes flashed with the closest I’d ever seen him come into getting angry, though even that was more stern than anything else. “And as long as they’re paying customers we’ll serve them.”
“Okay Mr. Reynolds,” I said. “Whatever you say.”
I have to admit I was feeling a little nervous at the sound of that distant rumbling. Only it wasn’t so distant anymore. In fact, it was downright nearby now. I knew exactly what that rumbling meant. Everybody in our sleepy beach community knew exactly what that rumbling meant.
Sure Ocean Vista liked to present itself as a sleepy beach town. The kind of place where families could enjoy the sun, the beach, the boardwalk, and a little down time at one of our beachfront hotels. The thing they never included on any of those brochures, though, was the bikers.
Not that I could exactly blame the people tasked with suckering in tourists. The city was big on promoting themselves to families. They wanted to avoid spring breakers and other less than savory groups that liked to come to the beach for a little bit of fun. The local biker gang must’ve made that job hell. It’s not a job I wanted.
Not that it mattered. These bikers were one hundred percent home grown. No, there was no need to import our troubles from somewhere else like some of the other beach communities up and down the coast that catered to that audience. This group was based solely out of Ocean Vista, with a club somewhere outside of town and even rumors of a beach they’d taken over.
They were an
“Clean up that mess and go make a new sundae,” I said.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Madison snapped back.
Like magic Mr. Reynolds appeared between us. He would’ve looked comical if I didn’t know him so well. He had a wide smile on his face even though two of his workers looked like they were about to start clawing at each other. His handlebar mustache was almost ridiculous looking, but it seemed to fit on his wide jolly face. Everything about him seemed larger-than-life and happy. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him get mad in my life, and I’d been working at the Freeze Hut for the past six years every summer.
“What’s the problem here?” Mr. Reynolds asked.
“Kylie here needs to watch where the hell she’s going,” Madison said.
Mr. Reynolds’ eyebrows lowered, but his face didn’t quite reach what I’d consider a frown. He put his hands on his hips and looked back to me.
“What happened Kylie?”
“Madison was moving ice cream through the cash corridor,” I said.
Mr. Reynolds shook his head and clicked his tongue several times. “Madison, we’ve had this conversation a few times before. You need to keep ice cream out of the cash corridor so people can take orders.”
Madison turned to stare at me and she was fuming. I was proud that I resisted the urge to smile. Instead I just shrugged and went over to the cash register to finish filling that family’s order. I’d have to clean up after.
Mr. Reynolds looked like he was about to pull Madison aside and have a refresher conversation with her about workflow and staying out of the cash corridor, but before he could pull her to the back a low rumble in the distance caught all of our attention. I turned to the window and saw the family standing there looking off in the distance, their eyes wide. They hadn’t even gotten their ice cream, hell, I hadn’t even gotten them their change, but in an instant they were bustling down the boardwalk away from the Freeze Hut as quickly as they could move.
I turned to Mr. Reynolds, my eyes wide. “Should I board up the windows?”
But once again Mr. Reynolds surprised me. He laughed, his mustache shaking along with his stomach as he did so.
“Why would we want to do something like that?”
“But that’s…”
“That rumbling noise is the sound of paying customers,” Mr. Reynolds said.
His eyes flashed with the closest I’d ever seen him come into getting angry, though even that was more stern than anything else. “And as long as they’re paying customers we’ll serve them.”
“Okay Mr. Reynolds,” I said. “Whatever you say.”
I have to admit I was feeling a little nervous at the sound of that distant rumbling. Only it wasn’t so distant anymore. In fact, it was downright nearby now. I knew exactly what that rumbling meant. Everybody in our sleepy beach community knew exactly what that rumbling meant.
Sure Ocean Vista liked to present itself as a sleepy beach town. The kind of place where families could enjoy the sun, the beach, the boardwalk, and a little down time at one of our beachfront hotels. The thing they never included on any of those brochures, though, was the bikers.
Not that I could exactly blame the people tasked with suckering in tourists. The city was big on promoting themselves to families. They wanted to avoid spring breakers and other less than savory groups that liked to come to the beach for a little bit of fun. The local biker gang must’ve made that job hell. It’s not a job I wanted.
Not that it mattered. These bikers were one hundred percent home grown. No, there was no need to import our troubles from somewhere else like some of the other beach communities up and down the coast that catered to that audience. This group was based solely out of Ocean Vista, with a club somewhere outside of town and even rumors of a beach they’d taken over.
They were an
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