The Waiting Game

I leaned against my father’s truck, breathing in the humid city air. I didn’t live in this part of town. It was too rich for my blood. But my father delivered ice to over a dozen restaurants in the city, including a couple in this area.

“Hey,” someone shouted from across the street.

I looked the man’s way and raised my index finger, pointing it at my chest.

“Yeah, you,” he said. “Come here.”

I glanced over my shoulder, spotting my father inside the restaurant. I’d already helped him with the delivery, and now he was chatting it up with the owner. Since he was preoccupied, I stepped away from the truck and walked across the street.

The man was waiting in line outside a popular coffee shop. Whenever I visited this part of town, the line was always out the door, and this day was no different.

As I sidled up to the stranger, he grinned at me and raked a hand through his cropped brown hair.

“Hi,” he said. “What’s your name?”

I hesitated.

“Miguel,” I finally said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miguel. I’m Jack. Jack Spencer.” He swallowed. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“One that will earn you a little money.”

That definitely got my attention.

Jack eyed his wristwatch, then met my gaze again. “My daughter’s birthday is tomorrow, and I need to get her a gift, but the store is going to close soon. She’s only ten years old, but she already wants to be a doctor when she grows up.” He couldn’t help but smile after saying that.

“Anyway,” Jack continued. “The store is just around the corner. Would you mind holding my place in line here? The wait is taking longer than I expected.”

My brow furrowed.

Jack reached into his pants pocket and removed a wallet. He pulled a bill from the fold, holding it out to me. “Here’s twenty dollars. If I’m not back in time, just order me a large cappuccino. It only costs a few bucks. The rest is yours to keep.”

I looked over my shoulder again, and my father was still inside the restaurant.

“I’m waiting for my father,” I said. “He’s in the restaurant across the street. He drives the delivery truck over there.” I pointed a finger at it. “I don’t mind waiting in line for you, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be here when you get back.”

I didn’t mean to imply that I was going to run off with his money, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.

Jack mulled it over, eventually nodding. “Fair enough. I respect that you’re on a schedule. If you have to go before I get back, I’ll understand.” Jack handed me the twenty-dollar bill.

I grabbed the bill and held it in my hand.

“Thanks,” Jack said. “Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few.”

Jack took off running, and I eased into the line. Then I heard laughter from behind. I pivoted to look, and a couple of men my age – perhaps college students – were gawking at me. One of them had sandy blond hair, his lips stretching into a grin.

He looked me up and down. I wore faded jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers that had seen better days. I felt out of place, to say the least.

“I hate guys like that,” the blond man said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“The guy that just paid you to wait in line. I’m not blaming you for it. But guys like that think they can get whatever they want by flashing money in people’s faces.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could muster.

The man’s eyes went wide. “Hey. I have a proposition for you.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you ten dollars if you step out of line. Then you can leave here with thirty dollars in your pocket.”

I thought the man might be joking, but he stared at me with unflinching eyes.

“It would teach him a good lesson,” the man said.

“Miguel,” a voice shouted from across the street.

I turned, and my father was standing beside the truck. He raised his arms in confusion.

“What are you doing? We need to go.”

I still held the twenty-dollar bill in my hand, and I was considering giving it to the blond man, but could I trust him to return it to Jack? Probably not.

“Miguel,” my father yelled again.

“Sorry,” I said to the blond man, pocketing Jack’s money. “I have to go.”

“That works, too,” he snickered.

I felt a pang of guilt as I walked back to the truck. I’d only waited in line for a couple of minutes. In my opinion, I hadn’t earned the money that Jack gave me, but I wasn’t certain what else to do.

I got into the passenger seat of the truck, closed the door, and secured my seatbelt.

“What were you doing?” my father asked from the driver’s seat.

“Helping someone out.”

“What?”

“He was paying me to stand in line for him.”

“Who was?”

I shrugged. “His name is Jack. Jack Spencer, I think.”

“Jack Spencer?”

“Yeah. You know him or something?”

My father nodded. “He’s the son of Bob Spencer. They own that French restaurant a few blocks from here. I’ve been trying to get their business for years, but I haven’t had any luck.”

Commotion came from outside, so I peered through my window. Jack was back, and he appeared to be arguing with the blond man. Unfortunately, Jack didn’t have anything in hand. Either the store had closed before he got there, or he couldn’t find what he wanted.

The blond man pointed in my direction, and I slid down in the seat before Jack could see me.

“What are you doing?” my father asked, starting the truck.

“Just drive.”

I waited a few blocks before straightening in my seat and popping my head up again.

“You’re acting strange,” my father said.

I ignored his comment. “When does Uncle Hector’s pawn shop close?”

“You know it’s open twenty-four hours,” he replied. “But he usually works until ten o’clock at night. He has someone else man the store until he comes in the next morning.” My father looked my way. “Why?”

“Can I borrow the truck tonight? After we’re done making deliveries?”

___

Thankfully, my father let me borrow the truck. I told him I wanted to visit Uncle Hector, but that was only half true. After stopping by my uncle’s shop, I headed to Chez Maman, a restaurant in an upscale part of the city. I had to park the truck in a garage and walk a couple of blocks, but I didn’t mind.

As I approached Chez Maman, I remembered that I hadn’t changed my clothes. It was too late to go back, so I pulled open the door and hoped for the best. A greeter, who stood behind a podium, eyed me warily. He was a portly gentleman dressed in a navy-blue suit.

“Can I help you?” he said.

I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’m looking for Jack Spencer. I know his parents own this restaurant, but I’m not sure if he actually works here.”

“You’re in luck,” the man said. “He does work here, and he’s in the back right now. Can I have your name?”

“Miguel,” I spit out.

“Just a moment, Miguel.”

The man turned a corner and disappeared into the restaurant. Jack came into view a couple of minutes later, the man following on his heels.

“Can I help you?” Jack asked. His brow furrowed as he studied me. “Miguel.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. When I was told Miguel was here, it didn’t register with me. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. And I also want to give you this.” I revealed the box in my hands.

“I don’t understand.”

“Did you make it to the store in time? The one you were visiting for your daughter?”

“Unfortunately, no. It’s a specialty store, and I forgot that it’s closed on Mondays. Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking your daughter might like this.”

I handed over the box, and Jack lifted the lid. His eyes bulged. “You’re kidding?”

I shook my head.

“A stethoscope?” he said.

“It’s not an expensive one, but it works.” I paused. “Anyway, you said she wants to be a doctor when she grows up. Does she have one?”

“No, and I never would have thought of it. This is great.” Jack eyed me. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I used the money you gave me, plus some of my own. My uncle gave me a good deal on it.”

Jack took a step forward, holding the box in one hand and placing his free hand on my shoulder. “I told you that money was yours even if you had to leave.”

“I know, but I still felt bad. Plus, I wanted to do this for you.”

Jack smiled. “This means a lot to me, Miguel. And Danielle is going to love it. Thank you.”

I pondered for a moment. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I need to get my father’s truck back, so I’m going to go.”

Jack removed his hand from my shoulder but held it out to me. I gripped his hand and shook it.

“Thanks again,” Jack said.  

“Have a good night.” I turned toward the door.

“Miguel,” Jack interrupted.

I spun around.

“It sounds like you have a great family,” he said. “I’d love to meet them one day. If you’re ever interested in eating here, the meal is on me.”

I grinned. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.”

About the author: Kevin Hopson's work has appeared in a variety of anthologies, magazines, and e-zines, and he enjoys writing in multiple genres. You can learn more about him by visiting his website at http://www.kmhopson.com.