Booth Three

5

I munch on a single fry, eating each of them one by one to avoid looking like a pig. I can't go shoving food in my mouth when Diego's usual dates probably don't eat at all. He's sitting across from me, taking a bite out of his dollar-menu burger. I assured him he could order more than just the cheapest thing on the menu, but he wasn't having any of it. He was happy with his simple cheeseburger meal.

This is a pretty small McDonalds. It's two storey's, but both levels are only a few square feet. We're on the second floor, at a table in the corner. The only other people here are a couple and their two kids, both running up and down the corridor to get their energy out.

"So how long have you been working at Benny's?" Diego asks, swallowing his food.

"Uhm... about two years. It's probably less than that, but it feels like forever."

"Were you a waitress before that, too?"

"Yep. I've been waitressing for 12 years now — since I was 14."

"Oh, fuck. That's been a while, then."

"Too long," I nod. "Have you always worked for your family?"

"Yeah. Well... I didn't start working there until my early twenties. Before that, I was just partying."

"That must've been nice." I wish I could've done that.

"Mostly just stupid," he admits. "I was a reckless kid."

"I'm not going to lie, I've seen articles about you before."

"Bad ones?"

"Not good ones," I chuckle. "Just a lot of fighting, really."

"Yeah, I don't really have a good track record, do I?" he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn't seem bothered by the conversation, so I dig deeper.

"What changed?" I ask. I'm not sure if something has, but it seems like it. He's rarely in the news anymore.

"Just family stuff," he shrugs. "Something happened to one of my sisters. She went through something pretty rough, and I felt kind of guilty for not being there. I guess I just realised I had to be there for my family more, you know?"

"That's pretty nice of you."

"It's the right thing to do."

"You have a few sisters, don't you?"

"Four — one older, three younger."

"You're the only boy?"

"Yeah, but I was always pretty close with my dad, so it didn't bother me much growing up/."

"I've noticed that. You two come in together a lot."

"Well, we work together," he says. "But we're pretty close, anyway. He's my best friend."

"Really?" I scowl. "Your dad?"

"Yep," he laughs. "I know it's strange, but we just get along well."

"Do you hang out like best friends?" I wonder. I can't imagine being that close to a parent.

"I'd say so. We watch a lot of sports together, and we go on drives pretty much every week."

"On drives?"

"Yeah, we both like cars, so we just... go out into the country and drive around."

"Recklessly, I assume?"

"Sometimes we like to go fast, yeah," he admits. "But we mostly just chat."

"That's so weird to me," I say. "Why your dad?"