"...and it looks like this snowstorm is going to keep pounding the area all night, and possibly carry through until tomorrow afternoon, turning to sleet at around nine p.m...."
Clarisse sighed as she turned down the radio of her secondhand Honda. She'd never make it to her McDonald's shift on time, let alone make it back home, with all the ice and snow starting to build up on the roads. It was a 20-minute drive on a good day, but tonight it would probably be twice that. Clarisse drove as fast as she safely could on the quickly-freezing road. The wind whistled like a boiling teapot through the quarter-inch of space between the glass of the passenger-side window and the frame of the door--the window had never gone all the way up for the entirety of the two years she had had the car. In the summer, this was no problem; the mild weather from April to September allowed her to roll it down all the way and forget its faultiness until the colder months set in. Now, however, the frigid winter wind forcing its way into the car chilled her bones.
After ten icy minutes, Clarisse finally pulled into the half-full McDonald's parking lot. The only patrons were those Christmas travelers with the tenacity to brave the icy roads as they made their way to the houses of relatives for the holiday. The bells dangling from the door handle jingled festively as Clarisse pulled the door open. She relished the sudden warmth as she pulled off her gloves, but her brief moment of bliss was interrupted by the exasperated, impatient voice of Sheila, the long-suffering restaurant manager.
"Clarisse! Do you realize just how late you are?" Sheila's slight southern accent made her scolding seem more admonishing.
"I'm sorry, the roads were--"
"Do you know what time your shift starts?" Sheila snapped.
"Eight," Clarisse mumbled.
"And what time is it now?"
"Eight-fifteen."
"Now stop wasting time and get to work before eight-thirty. This is supposed to be a fast food restaurant, and you are the only fry cook on this shift. Well? What are you standing there for? Get to work!"
Clarisse trudged to the back of the kitchen and took her once-black, stained apron from a hook mounted to the wall, replacing it with her black pea coat and brightly-patterned Vera Bradley purse--a splash of color in the otherwise dull industrial kitchen. As she prepared the deep-fryer for another batch of fries, the bells on the door jingled, heralding the arrival of three rather formidable-looking businessmen in dark suits. An icy gust of wind and snow chased them inside. As they stood in front of the counter examining the menu, Clarisse caught a whiff of something else--something that smelled like the inside of a Christmas Eve church, like incense and candles. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She put the potato strips into the hot oil. They began sizzling the moment they touched the cooking grease, splattering Clarisse a little with burning droplets. She sighed. What she would give to be sitting in front of a merrily crackling fire instead of this spluttering deep-fryer; a mug of steaming hot chocolate in her hands rather than the greasy handle of the fry basket. Well, this would have to do for now, she thought.
When the fries finished cooking, Clarisse removed them from the fryer and placed the dripping basket over an empty compartment in the stainless-steel countertop. As she let the excess grease drain off, she looked over her shoulder to see the men placing their orders. One of them, a tall, thin man with very dark skin was speaking. His deep voice carried a slight foreign accent; Clarisse guessed it to be from somewhere in Africa.
"...with a medium soda, and hold the lettuce," he said. Deanna, the newest addition to the eight 'o clock shift, tucked a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear and punched the order into the cash register.
"A number five meal, hold the lettuce, with a medium fry and medium soda?" Deanna checked.
"Yes. That's all."
"And the name on that?" she asked.
"Balthazar."
* * *
This is only part one...to be continued.
Very good. I can't wait to find out what happenes! And, as always, I envy your vocabulary.
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