Backwoods Backwards

One

The blazing summer sun beats down on the cracked pavement, radiating what feels like one hundred degrees off the blacktop. My beat-up Converse sneakers scream in protest as the rubber soles grind against the burning ground, and my denim shorts rub against my thighs, irritating my sweaty skin. Brushing stray strands of hair away from my forehead, I squint my eyes against the bright sunlight and mentally curse myself again for forgetting my sunglasses as I latch onto the door in front of me, swinging it wide open.

Cool air conditioning hits me in the face the moment I step through the door. Closing my eyes in relief, I breathe out a sigh of contentment.

"There's my regular. I've been waiting all day to see you."

I crack my eyes open and, after letting them adjust to the change in lighting, scan the room for the source of the voice.

I grin happily when I find the person, stepping further inside and away from the door. "Of course, Sal. Couldn't go without my milkshake."

Sal chuckles, the sound rumbling through his short, stout body. "Move away from that door and take a seat. You're blocking the entrance for paying customers."

I smirk at the man, sending a mock salute his way, as I head for my usual corner booth and plop down on the familiar red seat. "Yes, sir." I make a show of glancing around. "It's a miracle there's enough room in here for all your customers to sit."

The place is practically deserted, and would be entirely if it wasn't for us.

Sal narrows his eyes at me, grabbing his hand towel and flicking it at me before tossing it over his shoulder. "I don't want to hear another sound from you unless it's praise for my amazing milkshake."

I laugh, grinning at him. "I'm gonna need that first, though, for that to happen."

"Are you bothering that poor girl again?"

Sal and I both turn towards the large swinging doors behind the counter.

A pretty woman with the beginnings of salt-and-pepper hair steps out from behind the counter, a tall milkshake in her hand.

I can't help but sigh at the sight, my desire for something cold finally getting the best of me.

The woman sets the glass down in front of me, smiling kindly. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Janet," I tell her gratefully, then I reach for the glass and take a big sip through the wide straw. The ice-cold creaminess melts on my tongue, cooling my parched throat on its way down.

I close my eyes, leaning back in the booth, and sigh. "Literally the best thing right now."

Sal starts up with his hearty laugh all over again, and this time Janet joins in.

I turn towards both of them. "Thanks. How much?" I reach into my back pocket, fishing around for a handful of bills.

Janet waves my money away, shaking her head. "It is nothing. You don't pay here."

I frown at her, then try Sal, prompting him with my eyes to name a price.

The man holds his hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me. She's the boss; I'm just here because she hasn't decided to get rid of me yet."

Giving Sal a proud smile, Janet crosses to his side and pats his cheek affectionately. "That's exactly right." She looks at me. "I've got him trained so well, don't I?"

Sal makes a sound of disapproval, so Janet calms him down with a kiss on the cheek.

I politely look away at that moment, staring at the front doors as I sip my milkshake slowly to make it last.