“Must create some resentment.”
“That’s an understatement. Did you read about those fast-food employees who were arrested for putting yummy things like spit and urine and bleach and Easy-Off oven cleaner into the food? They’d been doing it for months. Really-you don’t want a bunch of angry, crazy kids running your restaurant. Much better to pay responsible, reliable people decently. That’s what we do.”
“Probably helps contribute to your image as the high-class fast-food stop, too.”
Rothko winked. “Can’t hurt. We have a much lower injury rate than the incredibly high rate at most burger joints, too. ’Course, it’s in part because our employees aren’t total morons. But we’ve also spent some major money on safety precautions. Nationwide, the injury rate for working teenagers is twice that for adults. But not at Burger Bliss. Statistics are also way high on fast-food robberies-usually by former or current employees. But not at Burger Bliss. And I think it’s because we treat our people with respect.”
He paused for a moment. His pedaling slowed. “We did have that one horrific incident a few weeks ago. The shooting.”
Ben nodded. “I heard about that firsthand, from one of the cops at the scene. Wounded six people, was it?”
“Yeah,” Rothko said solemnly. “Killed three. It was a horrible tragedy. And a PR nightmare. We had to close that restaurant.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But just for the record-our burgers really are the best. You read enough about slaughterhouses, the kind of meat my competitors buy, and you’ll understand how E. coli spreads. But there’s never been an E. coli outbreak in a Burger Bliss. Never once. We send all our managers to a food safety course. We use refrigerated delivery trucks equipped with record-keeping thermometers. We calibrate our grills to guarantee the meat is sufficiently cooked. We make our fry chefs use tongs-not their hands. USDA testing is a joke-we do our own microbial testing. I wanted Burger Bliss to be a model of how a fast-food restaurant could be-and should be-run. We really are a quality restaurant.”
“And the amazing thing is,” Ben replied, “you haven’t gone broke.”
“Exactly. Truth is, all these things I’ve talked about-better salaries, better meat, safety precautions-add very little to our total cost. Like maybe a few pennies per burger. In this billion-dollar business, everyone could be doing it.”
“Then why don’t they?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question, Ben. Greed.” He pushed himself off the bicycle. “They don’t do it because they don’t have to. And it’s taking a toll. All that fatty fast food is. Do you know what the national obesity rates are? It’s shocking. Fully fifty percent of our population is overweight. Twenty-five percent of all children. Fifty million Americans are obese-meaning they’re over fifty pounds heavier than they should be. It’s the second leading cause of mortality-after smoking! And it is directly related to the rise of fast food. That’s why Burger Bliss is committed to offering a higher-quality alternative. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.”
Ben stepped off the treadmill. He was dripping with sweat, but he felt better, as he always did after a good workout. He might not be Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he wasn’t total flypaper anymore, either. “You have every right to be proud,” Ben replied. “You’ve taken the high road. And you’ve made it work.”
“Well, thanks. But I have to tell you, Ben-the best part of it is being my own boss. I’m sure you can appreciate that. Have you ever worked for a corporation?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Then you know what corporate competition can be like. When people are competing for their livelihoods-especially when there’s a lot of money at stake-anything is possible.”
“Like one chemist knocking off a better chemist?”
“Anything, Ben. Absolutely anything.”
Chapter 21
Tramp. Harlot. Whore. Cheap piece of pussy. That’s what she was.
But those eyes. Those dark beautiful eyes.
Gabriel Aravena clenched his fists. Everything was so different now, since he went off the Depo. Everything was changed. This surge of emotions. The confusion. The thoughts flashing through his brain, thoughts he couldn’t seem to banish. He had hated being on the medication, watching it change his body, change him. And yet it had brought a certain… peace.
That peace was gone now. Gone like a thundercloud that had shot its load and had blown away with the wind. He’d been off the medication for almost a week now. At first, he felt only elation. His body was his own again. All the feelings they had tried to submerge had returned. But only for a little while. When he’d been on the Depo he could entertain all those horrible fantasies. Why not? He couldn’t do anything about it. But now it was different. Now he could do something about it. Was that what he wanted? He was consumed by desire, obsessed by the irresistible need to take Sheila and throw her down and never stop taking her-
She was a little old for him, true. He had usually preferred his girls… younger. But when he looked at the woman he now saw through the restaurant window, he saw the girl of fifteen she had been. And he wanted that girl. Wanted her bad.
He had watched her in that bar, shamelessly flirting with that redneck piece of trash who was putting the moves on her. She had all but thrown herself at him, the cheap little twat. She had all but spread her legs and done him on the bar rail. And no sooner had she finished with him than she took up with the next man who walked up. She wrapped herself around the black man and let him take her away to this place.
He wasn’t fooled by the fancy decorating and the high-priced menu. He knew what this was all about. This was about getting her liquored up, maybe slipping her something. Not that it was necessary. Not with her.
And not with him, either.
It was too late tonight, he could see that. This jerk with the hair gel had his finger in it, and there was no getting rid of him. But there would be another time, Gabriel told himself. Another time when it would just be him and her, and then-
Stop! he heard a voice screaming somewhere inside him. Stop before it’s too late!
But he ignored the voice. He would watch this woman. Yes, that was it. He would follow her wherever she went, no matter how far or how long. And when the opportunity came, he would take her. Over and over again. Even if it killed her.
Over and over again. Until it killed her.
Chapter 22
So, am i feeling better yet? Sheila Knight wondered as she lit another cigarette. How long is this going to take?