Then his shoulders tightened into a half shrug. “You need more help with your list.”
“Actually, no. I think I pretty much have the maturity thing covered, at least for now. I just…. Can I take you out to lunch? So we can talk?”
Austin was positive Ben was going to refuse. The guy even started to shake his head. But then he stopped and gnawed his lower lip before heaving a noisy sigh. “Okay.”
“It’s not going to be a painful lunch, Ben. I’m not going to torture you or ask you for money. I won’t even make you eat with bears.”
“I didn’t mind the bears,” Ben mumbled. He gave a tiny smile. “All right. Let me just take care of this first, okay?”
Whatever this was, it took about fifteen minutes. While he waited, Austin exchanged friendly hellos with a few members of the crew. Then he wandered to the back, where he found Sam deep in conversation with one of his employees. Sam looked surprised to see Austin—and not at all happy.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked, then winced slightly, as if ashamed of his accusatory tone.
Austin smiled at him. “I have the day off. I’m taking Ben out to lunch. He helped me with some stuff and I wanted to thank him.”
Now Sam just looked astounded. “You— Oh.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I haven’t gotten my ass fired and I don’t need cash. I’ve made a lot of tips lately, in fact.”
“That’s great to hear, kiddo.”
“You look busy. I’ll get out of your hair. See you later!” He could feel Sam watching him as he walked away, but Austin didn’t mind. It was nice to exceed his father’s expectations for once.
As Ben drove, Austin directed him to a place called Upper Crust, about fifteen minutes from the factory. “I know it doesn’t look like much,” Austin said as they pulled into a nondescript strip mall, “but the sandwiches are amazing. They make their own bread.”
Ben parked between a Lexus and a Mini. He was a careful driver and a precise parker, positioning himself exactly in the middle of the lines. “How do you know all these places? I’ve lived here almost my whole life and I’ve never heard of them.”
“Dunno. I’ve always eaten out a lot, plus I have a lot of friends in the biz. How about you? What do your friends mostly do?”
Instead of answering, Ben got out of the car and shut the door. They walked across the lot, which had been freshly resurfaced and still smelled faintly of tar. Austin reached the restaurant first, so he held the door for Ben, and then they waited for seats. “I don’t think I have as many friends as you do,” Ben said quietly.
Before Austin could reply, the hostess appeared and took them to a table.
The décor was witty: chandeliers made of gold-colored plastic with hanging baubles, paintings intended to parody ancestral portraits, tablecloths that looked like lace but were actually printed paper. The walls were painted to suggest fussy wallpaper gone slightly astray. The menus sported a typeface with lots of unnecessary swirls and flourishes.
Ben looked slightly puzzled. “What’s the deal?” he asked, waving at a shelf of faux Ming vases.
“It’s a bad pun. You know, upper crust. Upper class. Don’t worry—you can enjoy the food and ignore the humor.”
“Ah, I get it.” Ben buried his face in the menu for a minute or two. “Anything you recommend?” he asked without looking across the table.
“Everything’s good. I’m having the Monte Cristo.” Because he hadn’t terrified his arteries enough with the bacon that morning.
Ben closed his menu and set it on the table. “Sounds good.”
They sat a little awkwardly until they ordered, and even after the waitress went away, an uneasy silence lay between them. Finally Ben cleared his throat. “So you found a new job?”
Grateful to have a start at conversation, Austin nodded eagerly. “Yeah. It’s this shop called Gifted. I’m manning a cash register again, but that’s fine. It’s not a bad place at all,
“Actually, no. I think I pretty much have the maturity thing covered, at least for now. I just…. Can I take you out to lunch? So we can talk?”
Austin was positive Ben was going to refuse. The guy even started to shake his head. But then he stopped and gnawed his lower lip before heaving a noisy sigh. “Okay.”
“It’s not going to be a painful lunch, Ben. I’m not going to torture you or ask you for money. I won’t even make you eat with bears.”
“I didn’t mind the bears,” Ben mumbled. He gave a tiny smile. “All right. Let me just take care of this first, okay?”
Whatever this was, it took about fifteen minutes. While he waited, Austin exchanged friendly hellos with a few members of the crew. Then he wandered to the back, where he found Sam deep in conversation with one of his employees. Sam looked surprised to see Austin—and not at all happy.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked, then winced slightly, as if ashamed of his accusatory tone.
Austin smiled at him. “I have the day off. I’m taking Ben out to lunch. He helped me with some stuff and I wanted to thank him.”
Now Sam just looked astounded. “You— Oh.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I haven’t gotten my ass fired and I don’t need cash. I’ve made a lot of tips lately, in fact.”
“That’s great to hear, kiddo.”
“You look busy. I’ll get out of your hair. See you later!” He could feel Sam watching him as he walked away, but Austin didn’t mind. It was nice to exceed his father’s expectations for once.
As Ben drove, Austin directed him to a place called Upper Crust, about fifteen minutes from the factory. “I know it doesn’t look like much,” Austin said as they pulled into a nondescript strip mall, “but the sandwiches are amazing. They make their own bread.”
Ben parked between a Lexus and a Mini. He was a careful driver and a precise parker, positioning himself exactly in the middle of the lines. “How do you know all these places? I’ve lived here almost my whole life and I’ve never heard of them.”
“Dunno. I’ve always eaten out a lot, plus I have a lot of friends in the biz. How about you? What do your friends mostly do?”
Instead of answering, Ben got out of the car and shut the door. They walked across the lot, which had been freshly resurfaced and still smelled faintly of tar. Austin reached the restaurant first, so he held the door for Ben, and then they waited for seats. “I don’t think I have as many friends as you do,” Ben said quietly.
Before Austin could reply, the hostess appeared and took them to a table.
The décor was witty: chandeliers made of gold-colored plastic with hanging baubles, paintings intended to parody ancestral portraits, tablecloths that looked like lace but were actually printed paper. The walls were painted to suggest fussy wallpaper gone slightly astray. The menus sported a typeface with lots of unnecessary swirls and flourishes.
Ben looked slightly puzzled. “What’s the deal?” he asked, waving at a shelf of faux Ming vases.
“It’s a bad pun. You know, upper crust. Upper class. Don’t worry—you can enjoy the food and ignore the humor.”
“Ah, I get it.” Ben buried his face in the menu for a minute or two. “Anything you recommend?” he asked without looking across the table.
“Everything’s good. I’m having the Monte Cristo.” Because he hadn’t terrified his arteries enough with the bacon that morning.
Ben closed his menu and set it on the table. “Sounds good.”
They sat a little awkwardly until they ordered, and even after the waitress went away, an uneasy silence lay between them. Finally Ben cleared his throat. “So you found a new job?”
Grateful to have a start at conversation, Austin nodded eagerly. “Yeah. It’s this shop called Gifted. I’m manning a cash register again, but that’s fine. It’s not a bad place at all,
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