Part Eleven – Les and The Pizza Place

Today’s instalment of Stookey Hill takes us to meet Les who owns the pizza joint – and his hapless helper, Angela!

Part Eleven – Les and The Pizza Place

Les had long been suspicious that Mark Dorado was up to no good. He had no particular evidence that contributed to this feeling and for the most part he never thought about the man. Until he saw him, then he would ponder for a good few hours.

Taking the rubbish out to the bins at the back was one such occasion. He turned down the alley, hoisting the two bags alongside him, when he saw him, standing outside the door to Pamela’s flat. Well, technically, it was Les’s flat. But Pamela, while being a royal pain in the backside for some things, was at least a reasonable tenant.

He paused, momentarily as he watched Mark bend down and push the letterbox open. He was calling inside, shouting. But the words were unintelligible.

Les sighed. This was why he didn’t trust the man. What did he want with the formidable Pamela Albright? Most folk actively avoided her to save themselves from becoming some kind of untoward topic of conversation. No doubt shouting into her letterbox would be a good story that would grow all kinds of arms and legs.

“Do you need anything, Mark?” Les asked, making Mark jump and straighten up as if he had been caught mid-felony.

“Oh, Les. No thanks, just…” Mark went red and Les could tell he was thinking of an answer that might at least pass for the truth.

Les laid the rubbish bags down. He could tell he was making Mark uncomfortable and he was going to enjoy it.

“Just what?” Les smiled but it wasn’t friendly.

“Is Pamela in?”

Les narrowed his eyes. That old chestnut. Avoiding an answer by asking a question. He’d read about that when he did that psychology night class at the college.

“What do you need her for?” Les crossed his arms. Two could play that game.

Mark’s face grew redder, but Les suspected that now it was because he was annoyed.

“Nothing,” Mark flapped his hand as if to reiterate that there was something light and breezy going on. Then, he turned and went back towards the rear of the shops, disappearing quickly around the corner.

Les stood for a minute, and considered checking on Pamela. Although there was nothing really to check other than his own creeping suspicions. And checking on her might generate a tale he wasn’t particularly keen on being a part of.

Picking up his rubbish, Les made his way to the back of his takeaway.

Les loved the takeaway – The Pizza Place. He had given it that name. Admittedly, it wasn’t very inventive. In fact, it was quite the opposite. But, no one was ever confused at least. It said what it needed to say.

Throwing his rubbish away, Les went back to the front. He opened for lunch, and did a roaring trade with the local high school which was just a few minutes away. He sold pizza by the slice and over the years had offered a number of combos – drink and a slice, buy two get one free, pizza and a pudding…Les smiled to himself as he went back inside. His papa would be proud.

“We are out of pepperoni, Les,” shouted Angela.

Les sighed. No matter how many times he asked her to tell him when stocks got low, she never managed it. Last week it had been cheese. Cheese! What kind of pizza joint runs out of cheese? A few weeks before that it had been olives, which was less of an issue since they weren’t too popular.

“I’ll go and get some,” Les turned to go out again. He resented buying from Harry. He always put the prices up when he saw Les coming. That all stemmed back from the time they had fallen out over who had the most successful business, and while it was silly and fuelled by beer, Harry had never forgotten it. He was indignant that Les even dared to suggest that The Pizza Place was successful.

“Since you can afford it, due to your significant success…” was how Harry started most sentences with Les. Then he would finish with a hike in price. At first, Les had refused.

“I’m not paying more than anyone else for the same product!” he had said, angered by Harry’s petty nature.

“No problem,” Harry had said, turning back to his sudoku, “I’m sure you can get what you need somewhere else!”

And so Les did go somewhere else, but it took him twice as long and he resented the very presence of the big supermarkets. Despite Harry’s awkward behaviour, he had subscribed to the whole notion of shopping local when he started The Pizza Place. So he ended up going to Harry anyway. He just needed to make sure that Angela gave him enough warning to go to the wholesaler…not five minutes before the lunch rush started.

“Morning, Les!” Harry near enough clapped his hands with glee when he saw Les come in. He had once charged him double for three blocks of cheese. He enjoyed having the man over a barrel.

“Harry,” said Les, a little curtly.

“What can I get you?” Harry laid down his paper and peered over his glasses.

Les did not reply, instead marching to the fridge to pick up several packs of pepperoni. He put them on the counter, avoiding eye contact with Harry. He didn’t want to give the man any more satisfaction than he had already.

“Angela forgot the pepperoni!” Harry exclaimed, enjoying the discomfort visible in Les’s features.

“Indeed, now how much?”

Harry rang each pack through. One by one. Carefully. He could just punch x6 on the till, but he enjoyed it more this way – making Les watch each pack as it dinged across the scanner.

Les paid and left quickly. Not before he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Primmie coming up the hill. He looked at his watch. Boy, she was late today, he thought. She was notoriously late for everything. And he would have just kept going, thinking to himself that while Angela had her faults, she was at least always on time, had he not noticed that Primmie looked as though she was crying.

Pausing, Les waited for her. He was nothing if he wasn’t a compassionate soul.

“Primrose!” he said, as she was about to pass. She looked at him uncomfortably and smiled thinly. She had no intention of stopping, by the looks of it.

“Hello, Les,” she said, sniffing. She could tell by his face that he could tell she had been crying. She was in no mood to talk. Also, she didn’t want to run into Pamela, who haunted this side of the street at this time of day. That was the last thing she needed.

“Are you okay?” Les shouted after her, but she just waved her hand and kept going.

Sighing, Les made his way back to The Pizza Place. There seemed to be a lot of underlying drama…

“Look what I found!” Angela exclaimed when he opened the door. She was standing, her apron looking odd, holding several packs of pepperoni with a triumph he didn’t feel she had any right to have.

“Angela!” Les was exasperated. She had cost him almost £30 in processed meat, straight into the pocket of that Harry as well!

“Oops!” she smiled at him and he melted. It was a little known fact that Les loved Angela. With all his heart. She was a nuisance at times, and barely managed to do the few tasks he gave her competently, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

“What’s wrong with your apron?” he said, trying to work out why it looked as though it was tied around her calves.

Angela looked down and her glasses slid. They were old and needed the arms tightening, but Angela – with her usual apathy – couldn’t be bothered to get them fixed. She wasn’t sure they really helped her see any more either. Her eyes had definitely deteriorated since she had first got them.

“Oh no!” she said, laughing, “ I have it on upside down!”

Les rolled his eyes and went out back to his office. This was what he meant by barely competent. Who puts an apron on upside down? How do you even manage that?

He closed the door behind him. He could still hear laughing. He leaned heavily against the back of the door. He heard a crash, another laugh and then she shouted: “it’s okay, I’m okay!”

Despite himself, Les smiled a bit. This is why he loved her. She was frustrating and funny and disarming and those eyes, magnified exponentially through the thick glasses she wore…Les sighed again. He had to put Angela out of his mind.