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Dennis had seen airport bathrooms bigger than this place. A few small wooden tables pressed up against the faded wallpaper, and a counter ran across the far end, where Jerry stood behind the cash register. A sign read “Cash Only,” and the menu above Jerry’s head was handwritten and messy. A collection of condiments sat to one side in disarray. The aroma of grilled hamburger pervaded every inch of the place.
Dennis waited in line as Jerry handed out plain brown sacks filled with orders to the man in front. As he strode away, Jerry smiled up at Dennis. “Welcome, how can I help you?” Then, recognition dawned. “Denny! When did you get back in town?”
“Came back for Grandma’s 90th.”
“Yes, of course. How’s L.A.?”
“Fine.”
Jerry nodded, waiting for more. “Can I get you something?” He motioned at the menu.
“Business going well?” Dennis asked.
“Great. I’ve got a solid base of customers, Natalie helps out with all the paperwork, and I even have Abel sweeping the floor for his allowance.”
Dennis nodded distractedly.
Jerry waved as someone stood up behind Dennis. “Thanks for stopping in, Carl!” The bell above the door rang as Carl went out. “Just a sec, Dennis. I got an order to put together. Francis will be in earlier than I told her. She always is.”
Jerry ducked into the kitchen. Dennis touched the rough wooden counter. It left a residue on his fingers.
“I work for a magazine now,” Dennis said loudly.
“That’s great, Denny. You like it?”
“Of course.”
Jerry came out a minute later, just as an old woman hobbled in. Dennis stepped aside and let Jerry ring her up.
“My Yorkie just loves your slides,” she said, opening the bag slowly to check its contents and carefully closing it again.
“I’m glad, ma’am. Thank you.”
Jerry finally turned to him again. “Decided?”
“I’ll just have the All-American,” Dennis said shortly.
He waited at the table in the corner, scrunched into the plastic chair, and fumed. Everyone had always liked Jerry. In high school he had been the smart one, with a warm, friendly disposition. But Dennis had been the one to go out East to school. He was the one with the bylines and the salary and the nice car, not this dirty little cave of a restaurant. It made him angry to see Jerry so happy. What did he have? Nothing. No ambition, nothing to show, in Nowhere, USA.
“Here you go, Denny,” Jerry said, dropping the basket of fries and hamburger in front of him. “You wanna stop by my place tonight, after we close up?”
“Can’t. Thanks. I’m just in and out.”
“I’m glad you stopped by. It’s been a long time.”
The phone rang—a wall phone, for goodness’ sakes, not a cell—and Jerry was off.
Dennis grunted. He grabbed the sandwich in both hands and took a bite. He chewed slowly. It was good. It was really good. He took another bite, savoring it. This bite was better.
By the time he finished, he was convinced it was the best burger he’d ever had.
Dennis called his friend over. “This is really good,”
“Thanks,” Jerry said, looking embarrassed.
“No, really. I could get a friend of mine, a food writer, out here, write this up.”
Jerry shook his head. “No thanks. It’s kind, but this isn’t a big operation. It’s just for here, you know? That’s what makes it work.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely,” Jerry said. He laughed suddenly. “For a second, I was really worried. The local paper in Henderson wrote me up once and I was so busy I was tempted to shutter the whole thing. Just tourists trying shoving their way in, no relationships at all.” Jerry laughed again. “Come get another before you leave town, won’t you, if you have the chance? On the house.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Dennis stood up. “Thanks. It’s been nice seeing you.”
The door creaked as he left, and the bell rang. He called his friend. “I found this place you have to try, Bill. Trust me. You’ve got to put it on the map.”