I first met Holly shortly after starting my second shift job, which let off at 9:30. So there I was, driving home, feeling hungry, pissed, and generally considering not going back.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, lo and behold, I saw a Baskin Robbins.
Hell, I thought to myself, ice cream sort of counts as food.
So I pulled up, parked the car, and leaped out, determined to make it through the door before they locked it.
As I ran in, three minutes to close, I noticed there was a cute red-head behind the counter holding keys in her hand. And giving me a look like she wanted to kill me.
“Hi,” I said, a little out of breath.
“We’re closed.”
Ouch. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not ten yet.”
“It might as well be.”
“But it isn’t.”
“Look, if I serve you, then I’m going to have a horde of maniacs wanting ice-cream after we’re closed for… for why ever the hell they want ice-cream.”
“Kinky sex.”
The girl’s eyes widened. She had certainly never heard that from a customer. “What?”
“It’s the middle of the night. Couples are probably getting ice-cream so they can have kinky sex. Me, I just got off work and I’d like something to eat.”
The girl wavered a little. It was a minute to ten now, but she was having trouble arguing about it. She was still considering getting rid of me, but seemed to be having second thoughts.
So I pushed her a little. “Look, you want me out of here, I want me out of here. So why not just give me a,” I glanced at the menu for a second, “a sundae and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
She thought about it for a second, then stepped around and locked the door behind me. “Fine,” she said, actually smiling. “But just for you and just this once.” She turned around to yell at her co-workers. “Shut the drive-thru down. We’re closed!”
“Thank you,” I said. It never hurt to be civil.
“Right, right. Did you want vanilla on that?”
“Whatever. Just pick two you like.”
She looked at me for a second, then gave me a smug smile and shook her head, moving to a different cabinet. “So,” she asked, digging out two scoops of something orange, “should I expect you here often?”
I shrugged. “You’re the first fast food place on the way home. Maybe.”
“We’re not fast food, you know.”
“You have a drive-thru, don’t you?”
“So?”
“That kind of says, ‘fast food.’”
“Whatever.” She finished scooping the ice cream, put some hot fudge, whip cream, nuts and a cherry on it, then brought it to the front. “$3.25.”
“Kind of pricey for two scoops, don’t you think?”
“It’s two really good scoops.”
“Sure it is,” I said, pulling out the cash to pay for it.
“Anyway,” she said as she gave me my change, “I’m on shift tomorrow, so if you drop by, I’ll be here.”
“Even after ten?”
She grinned a little. “Don’t push your luck. Now get out of here, I have to do the money.” She unlocked the door and let me out. “We’re closed!” she shouted to the two people getting out of their car, then slammed the door and locked it as quickly as possible.
I didn’t find out her name was Holly until the next day, when I went back to complain that she had given me two scoops of Orange sherbet in my hot fudge sundae.
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