Begin

Where to begin. It was Beatrice’s first day on the job. I remember because she poured a vat of mayo into the dispenser and wound up getting a half gallon or more on the floor. Nothing will turn rancid faster than mayo on the greasy floor of a Whopper World franchise in East Harlem in August. The smell was stiff in the air, like a magazine that keeps cutting into your finger. It was inescapable and made Erwin go home early after dry heaving a second time. Erwin was probably their inside man. So when he wasn’t there, the robbery took a turn for the worse. The two guys probably didn’t even smell the mayo. They came in the front door, one holding a shotgun, the other some kind of kitchen knife. They yelled something through their ski masks. All I could make out was some swear words. That is the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital bed with a hole in my cheek and a police officer’s handcuffs securing my left wrist to the bedrail.