It didn’t.
I was still practically cowering.
A former street rat. Cowering.
How far I’d come.
A large old man opened the door. His gray hair and long wiry mustache looked strangely familiar to me. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, trying to pinpoint where I’d seen his face before, I heard his gruff Brooklyn accent. “You August?”
“Yes sir,” August answered.
“Come on in,” the man replied, stepping aside to let us through the stripped–down, ugly door. As soon as I passed over the threshold and my nose came in contact with the smells wafting through that apartment, I knew exactly where I’d met the man before.
My eyes flew over to August.
“How?” I managed to say, as I turned back to the old line cook who’d once owned my favorite burger spot.
It had closed down years ago and was never heard of again.
“Sarah,” August said. “When she was over the other day for dinner, I happened to show her some of the pictures of you at the burger place and she recognized it, too. Only—unlike you, she knew the owner’s name. Once I had a name, he wasn’t too hard to track down.”
“Strangest call I’ve ever got,” the old man said, shaking his head as he turned over a burger on the large electric skillet he was using.
“I’m Everly.” I walked over and held out my hand. I watched as he did the same, wiping off the grease on a towel that he’d slung over his shoulder first.
“Joey,” he replied. “I remember you. The little redhead who used to come in every month. Twice if it was your birthday,” he said with a grin. “I remember Mr. Moneybags over there as well. Don’t forget what we agreed on,” he warned, which felt a little less threatening with the smile still plastered on his weathered face.
“No sir,” August replied. “I intend on paying you every last dime.”
“I don’t doubt that. Now what do you two want on your burgers?” he asked, making me grin back at him like a damn fool.
“You’re cooking for us?” I asked.
“Well, what do you think you’re doing here, sweetheart? Did you think you were coming to this part of town just for the scenery? Your man said you wanted my burgers for your birthday. He’s paying me a hefty sum, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re insane.” I laughed, stepping forward to run my hands up August’s neck.
“Maybe a little,” he said with a wink. “Tell the man what you want!”
“Okay, okay!” I answered with sheer excitement, listing everything I wanted on my epic birthday burger. Joey just nodded and smiled, not bothering to write anything down as he took the order. He never had. None of the waitresses in his restaurant had ever sent back handwritten orders when I’d visited. Everything had been called out and yelled back for accuracy.
“Hey Joey—why did you close he restaurant?” I asked.
He stared down at the burgers, silently flipping them as I watched the years seem to pass by his tired eyes. “I didn’t choose to shut it down. It just happened—like so many things in life. Big chain came in down the street, customer loyalty dropped and before long I was behind on rent. The restaurant business ain’t easy. There’s always something out there bigger and shinier, ready to take away your livelihood. That place was my heart and soul. I haven’t been able to get back on my feet ever since.” He took a deep breath, looking up as his tired eyes blinked several times.
“But it’s good to know I’m missed. At least by a few.”
“You are,” I replied. “There was no place quite like yours.”
“It was a good little spot,” he agreed. “I drive past it every once in a while—there’s a damn frozen yogurt place there now. Looks like someone vomited the rainbow all over it.”
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped my throat. I heard August chuckle next to me as we watched Joey finish wrapping up our burgers and fries. August and I thanked him for the meal, and I as we left August handed him a fistful of cash. Joey didn’t bother counting it, which meant he either trusted us or didn’t care. I knew it was the former. Somehow the old man who lived in the apartment that felt more like a prison than a home had come to trust us in the few minutes we’d grown to know each other.
“Joey, I want you to have this,” I said, reaching for the watch that adorned my wrist. He looked down as I unclasped it and slid it over my petite hand.
“Kind of big on you, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the large silver watch.
“Yes, it was given to me, and I just don’t think it’s a good look. I thought you might like it and if not, maybe you could use it toward your burger joint fund.”