SPECIAL ORDER

by Bruce Dries Jr.

"One cheeseburger, raw, extra onions, no pickles."

"Yes, sir, one cheeseburger . . . extra onions, hold the pickle . . ."

"Raw."

Veronica smiled as she looked up from the cash register. "Sir?"

He leaned slightly over the counter and calmly said, "Raw. I want the cheeseburger raw."

"Uh . . ." She flicked her eyes down to the cash register, as if looking for the RAW button, then back up to him. Her smile twitched. "What, um, what do you mean . . . raw?"

His eyebrows arched, and he casually glanced to both sides although he was the only customer in the quiet diner. She took the opportunity to quickly look him down and up; black leather trenchcoat, pale face, no hat. It was a cold night to be without a hat. Then he turned back and her eyes were suddenly pulled up, locking onto his as the room receded from them, the air faintly crackling in a sudden chill. He grinned widely, an excessively polite grin that seemed to reveal all of his teeth in one stroke yet came nowhere near to touching his eyes.

"Raw. Uncooked. No extra heat applied. With cheese."

She slowly turned her face from him, pulling her gaze away to risk a quick glance at the grill area. Willy was busy scraping up the night's accumulation of grease and wasn't paying attention to the front. She looked back to the customer.

"Um, I don't think we can do that," she said with a quiet shiver.

His grin turned down slightly at the edges, the black eyes wetly reflecting the kitchen lights with a glowing intensity.

"Of course you can do that," he breathed. "It won't take you any time at all."

The unblinking eyes grew even larger. Veronica was transfixed, wondering if the irises were truly that black or if there was simply a huge pupil filling each of the white orbs. She heard herself say in an odd, breathy voice, "I'll get it for you."

She felt detached from her body, uncaringly watching it move. She saw herself walk slowly to the rear freezer, walking inside and taking a meat patty from a box. Dreamlike, she moved back to the counter and looked up again into the dark liquid eyes. They stared back for an immeasurable moment, then her gaze drifted down to her hands.

"It's frozen," she said softly.

He raised an eyebrow and glanced down. "Well . . ." He paused, then looked at her. "Put it on the grill then. Fifteen seconds each side."

She slowly moved to the grill and slipped the patty onto the hot surface. At the sizzle, Willy looked up from the grease trough.

"What are you doing?"

Veronica didn't answer, flipping the burger after exactly fifteen seconds. Willy hurried to the grill.

"Hey, that's not right. It's not even cooked," he said, trying to reach for the spatula she held. "Let me do that."

She brushed his hand away and picked up the patty with the spatula. Holding it level, she turned to gaze at him.

"Special order."

He frowned, then looked over the range top at the customer who was staring back at him, clenched teeth bared in a pasty white face. Willy nervously licked his lips, then shrugged and looked back at Veronica. "Whatever," he said, and laid out the buns.

"Thank you." The customer's voice was soft as she returned to the counter. "I don't need a bag." His eyes never left hers as he reached for the cheeseburger, the touch of his fingertips sending a shiver of cold, wind-whipped clouds flicking down her spine. Her lips hung slack as she gazed into the endless eyes. The burger rose between them, framed by pale fingers.

"You see," he whispered. "Too much heat will kill the juices. Won't let them flow." He slowly pinched the edge of the meat, and a reddish liquid oozed over his fingertips, two drops soundlessly splashing onto the countertop. His fingers reached toward her, went past her eyes to softly trace their tips on her neck. A thrill swept through her and she breathed in sharply, feeling herself harden as if aroused. Then his fingers drew back and he gently flicked at them with his tongue, dark eyes holding her vision still.

She didn't see his lips move, but she heard his voice whispering as the wind over worn marble slabs. "Goodnight Veronica. Until tomorrow night."

Then he was gone, but she continued to stare blankly at the empty room. Her hand slowly rose to her throat.

"Hey, Veronica, what a creep, huh?" Willy called from the back. When she didn't respond, he said, "Hey, you okay? He say something to you?"

Veronica didn't answer. She just looked at her fingers, at the small droplets of blood, then she raised a finger to her mouth to slowly, gently lick at the warm liquid.

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