“We’re just cleaning up. Do you want to come in and get something to eat?”

“That’s all right,” she said hesitantly, “I’ve got to go.”

“You can have whatever you want. I get the food for free.”

She stood there, caught between hunger and pride, her breath freezing in the air in front of her. Pride isn’t worth much on an empty stomach.

Finally, she said, “Okay.”

I led her in the back door past the stoves and stainless steel food prep tables, dropping the bag of lard next to the fryer.

Dean, who had locked me in the freezer my first night, was out front mopping the dining room floor. He had turned the radio to a rock ’n’ roll station and King Curtis’s “Soul Twist” blared throughout the lobby. We walked around to the front.

“Hey, Dean, this is Grace. I’m getting her something to eat.”

“Whatever,” he said without looking up, mindlessly making wide half circles with the mop.

Grace stood at the edge of the dining area, just short of the wet tile. “I don’t want to walk on your floor.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said. Dean disliked Mr. Dick and to him any job done less than the boss wanted was a victory of sorts. Then he looked up at Grace and his expression changed. So did his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Really.”

It was obvious that he liked the way she looked. I didn’t know why, but his interest in her bothered me.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked.

She looked back at me. “I don’t care. Anything would be nice.”

“We have, like, everything on the planet.”

“What do you like?”

“The pastrami burger, onion rings, baklava, the caramel cashew malt.”

“What’s baklava?”

“It’s this Greek thing. It has like honey and walnuts and it’s wrapped in…uh, paper-stuff.”

“Paper?”

“Phyllo dough,” Dean said. “Idiot.”

I blushed a little. “It’s good,” I said.

She smiled. “Surprise me.”

“The Eric Special coming up.” Stupid thing to say, I thought as I walked back to the kitchen. I wondered if she could tell that I never really talked to girls. I remembered that I still had my dopey paper hat on and quickly removed it. In ten minutes I brought out a tray crowded with everything I had mentioned and a bag of Tater Tots. Instinctively, I glanced out to the parking lot to make sure Mr. Dick wasn’t spying on us.

Grace looked over the tray in amazement. “Wow. You didn’t have to get me everything.”

“You don’t have to eat it all.”

I set the tray down in front of her. She examined each item. “Is this the…bock stuff?”

“Baklava.”

“I’ll save that for last,” she said. She took a bite of an onion ring.