The Reluctant I

I nearly lost a foot, but settled for two toes. The old pier on 2nd street used to employee hundreds of local workers. The men would come down in the morning looking for work if there was more to move than the standard crew could handle and, at very least, gather up a breakfast sandwich with sausage, cheese, and eggs scrambled up with some green chiles and a piping hot cup of coffee from Sam's Steam Shack. Sam's was popular within Darby, but not enough for Sam to be able to update the restaurant to more than a run down diner on the edge of town.

Sam moved into Darby from Trenton about five years back and bought the old Mellow Times diner that had opened up in the mid-60s only to close when the drug running in the back rooms wasn't able to make up for what the lousy cuisine already failed to bring into the business. It had sat closed for 33 years only to have its front doors opened on occasion by the police coming to chase out the teenagers using the run down spot's cushy boothes for a hook up spot. Around the late 90s, the decrepit conditions became more than even the most deranged couple was interested in chancing.

With a grant from the town council and $40,000 of his own money, Sam had managed to renew the old site enough to bring the customers back in droves that no hit of acid in the back freezer had ever been able to do. Once Sam brought the customer's in, they kept coming back and brought friends. The key to Sam's food was the affordable prices. He was not deluded enough to think he made $7 worth of lunch specials and stuck with the $4-$5 range for 3 years.

Over the past 3 months, however, Sam had started bringing in carpenters and architects to renovate the place brought on by a desire to legitimize his culinary skills. With the new faces came rising prices as fuel for running his kitchen became more expensive with the rising cost of oil. The increase in price drove some frequent customers away as many lived on a budget from day to day and couldn't put up extra money one day for a meal when it meant skipping a meal the next day. The oil prices also cut the number of shipments coming in and leaving through the local docks costing many their means for paying for these meals.

Before long, Sam was no longer able to keep his current staff and pay them with the lack of return customers. The contractors and carpenters stopped showing up to quote prices when they found Sam's taste for their pricing no longer as favorable. A few days later, Sam's place was closed unexpectedly as a load of lumber appeared out back. A day after that, a set of preformed roof arches were found next to the lumber stack. Within a week, a large contingent of workers laid off from the local docks were found to be lingering around the back of Sam's place building walls and floors before erecting a new roof over the rear of Sam's diner. The smell of Sam's famous chicken tortilla soup began to linger in the air again though the restaurant stayed closed to those coming to the front entrance.

Local families began to grumble over the mystery of the closed down but still cooking diner and police were called over the suspicion of the diner becoming another drug hovel returned from the grave of the 1960s. Officer Reynolds was patrolling one night after numerous calls and found a suspicious light coming from the inside of the diner after 3am. The back of the diner had been converted by now into an enclosed shell of a large banquet hall that many believe held nothing but an open room and drug dealers.

The officer rapped loudly on the front door, but was not heard over the loud music coming from the back room. Radioing back to the station the situation, he snuck towards the back before smelling an odd smoke he instantly connected with the suspected drug rumors. The radio was louder now and barely disguised the sound of loud shots. Quickly looking to looked into the window identifying a suspect from the corner of his eyes with a large automatic weapon. With the element of surprise on his side, the officer rushed into the room gun blazing sending out one shot before holding fire.

Inside the large room was a fine tiled floor and the makings of a real authentic banquet room. Sam had made a deal with some local workers that he would supply them with enough food to feed their families to help make up for the loss of dock work if they helped him assemble an addition to his diner for renting for parties. Sam stood stunned as he held the smoldering bark of hickory he was using to smoke a large pork roast for the morning workers. The officer glanced across the room to where he had fired and found the automatic weapon had been a nail gun being used to hang the faux log cabin wall covers. The bullet had splintered the wood of the siding and taken an unlucky ricochet into the sneaker holding the panel level. It was lucky the panel did not get nailed down before the shot or the weight of the boarding hitting damaged toes on my right foot would have meant a kind gesture to a local business resulted in long term disability.