The Hellion (collateralshot) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-25 16:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, dan smith, shawn spencer |
Who: Dan Smith and Shawn Spencer
What: Fun with Food Trucks
When: Mid-December
Where: Local Mall Parking lot
Rating/Warnings: Lowish; Mild violence and foul language
Status: Complete!
Food trucks. Jesus Christ. Dan had very few standards or scruples when it came to the jobs he took, but, dear god this had to have been the stupidest job he’d ever taken. Who knew that the world of food trucks was so cut throat?
Dan hadn’t been hired to kill the owner of Nacho Bizness. No, nothing quite that violent, but he was supposed to obtain the owner’s recipe for her signature sauce. Something the gal apparently kept under tight lock and key. Why the owner of a rival truck called Burger, She Wrote cared about a taco truck’s secret sauce was a mystery, but Dan wasn’t one to judge. The money was right. Actually, the money was damn good. This must have been some damn good sauce.
Tracking down Nacho Bizness had been an exercise all on its own. Dan actually had to download a stupid app that alerted him to where the truck was going to be next. The oh-so-helpful app not only told him where Nacho Bizness was, but the location for all of the food trucks. Guac n’ Roll. Curry It Up. Pretty Thai for a White Guy?! Seriously, what was with these damn names?! Truck Norris didn’t even make sense!
Whatever. Dan only cared about the taco truck. The problem with food trucks was that they could move from place to place very quickly. So the moment Dan got the alert that Nacho Bizness (Christ) was going to be at one of the local malls that afternoon, Dan had to drop what he was doing and haul ass to the location as soon as possible.
By the time he got there, there was already a line at the truck. And holy crap, look at it! It started where the truck was parked at the top of one of the aisles and stretched four or five car lengths down the aisle itself. Damn. It must have been really good sauce.
The size of the line did prove to be something of a problem. As long as there were people lined up to make orders, the owner was still in the truck filling them. That made it near impossible to sneak in and steal the recipe. Dan was going to have to wait until the owner decided she needed a break. No problem. It wouldn’t be the first stake-out he’d ever been on. May as well sample the truck’s food himself while he waited.
After a fifteen minute wait in the line, Dan was back at his car sampling the signature dish: Nachos (duh). And. Wow. That really was good sauce.
The art of being a food truck roadie was an art. Obviously. Sure, there was an app that listed what trucks would be where and could even alert you if one of your favorite trucks was in the area. Shawn Spencer would not be caught dead with such an app on his phone. Apps were for amateurs. Shawn was a professional. Which was why he made sure that the woman in charge of food service - dear, sweet, and all too trusting Penny Cline - on set had it on her phone instead.
They had been mid-scene when Penny’s phone began to play Bachman’s classic ballad, Taking Care of Business. Being a professional, Shawn immediately deduced that Nacho Bizness, home of the most amazing cheese sauce this side of Wisconsin, was close by. After a quick discussion with his co-star, Quintessa, they decided that the writers would need to review the script again before either of them would continue. So while Quintessa was having an amicable chat with the head writer (who was dodging thrown vases and shoes like an avid dodgeball player with noogies on the line), Shawn slipped out the side door.
There were only a few places within app notificatification distance that would provide the proper crowd for the cheese gods. Shawn let his stomach guide him and soon he was parking yards away from the bright orange truck. Per usual, there was already a line stretching halfway down the aisle. He got in line and prepared to wait patiently for perfection.
Twenty minutes later, three people before the front of the line, Doomsday was announced. It seemed that they would need to take a short break in order to refresh their supplies. One of the workers stated that a taster tray of bite-sized churros would be passed out in the meantime to apologize for the additional wait. As much as Inner Shawn wanted to throw a tantrum at the very idea that he would have to wait for the nacho goodness that was his inherent right as a tax-paying citizen of the US of A, Mostly Responsible Shawn reminded him that he had not, actually, ever paid taxes.
Resigned to the inevitable, Shawn took a hand and pocket full of churro pieces and settled in to wait.
Dan was starting to think the food truck was never going to close down for a break. But, ahhh, finally it looked as though they were taking a break. Time to go to work.
Dan climbed out of his car. There were still a number of people milling about, anxiously waiting for the food truck to reopen. Dan joined them, chewing on one of those churros (not his favorite) and waited for the two people from within the truck and head towards the mall to assumably use the bathrooms. The closest set were in the food court and considering the mall was mobbed, it may take a few minutes for the pair to get to their destinations and actually use them. Dan figured he had roughly ten minutes. Maybe as many as twenty if he was lucky.
Once the two servers had disappeared into the mall, Dan broke off from the other would-be customers and seemed to head in that same direction. However, once he had reached the halfway point of the parking lot aisle and out of sight, he veered off and came back around to the backside of the truck. A quick movement to his pocket and he pulled out a shim to jimmy the driver’s side door of the truck.
The churros were decent, but they were no nachos. Shawn was in the process of licking off the last of the cinnamon sugar when he spotted someone step out of line and duck behind the row of cars. He quirked an eyebrow. Someone was sneaking toward the back of the food truck and doing a very good job of not being noticed. His eyes narrowed. There was only one reason why anyone would try to get into an unoccupied food truck and with Easy Peazzy Pies as his witness, he was not going to stand for it!
Casually strolling out of the line, Shawn checked to make sure that no one was paying attention to him before ducking behind a white SUV. Following the path the Sneaking Sneaker had taken, he ducked and dodged his way up the aisle. Soon enough the food truck was in his sights, complete with a nondescript brown haired man currently in the process of circumventing the lock on the door. Ha! He knew that sneaking sneaker was up to no good!
Luckily, Shawn was also wearing sneakers. KangaRoos, to be exact. Silent as a mime in a Chaplin contest, he quickly came up behind the man. His eyes were darting around the parking lot. So far, no one had noticed the shim. Only he was aware of the crime that was currently in progress. Good.
“You’ve got about four minutes before Francisca gets back with a fresh batch of chips.” Shawn whispered urgently.
In the time it would have taken most to blink and take in a breath, Dan had whirled around and grasped the shirt of the man who had unwisely snuck up on him and slammed him into the side of the food truck. The edge of the shim pressed against the guy’s throat. It wasn’t a knife, but fuck, it’d do the trick. Dan had worked with less.
Of course now he was in a sticky situation. Did he kill this guy? Over a food truck recipe? His job didn’t call for murder, though Dan had no problems with killing the guy and shoving him into the truck for this Francisca to find. What he was getting paid for the job though? Not worth it. Dan narrowed his dark eyes into dark slits. Whether or not this guy lived or died now depended on him. “The fuck are you?” He growled.
“Shawn. Shawn Spencer.” Shawn swallowed, hands coming up in the universal sign of surrender. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen enough movies to know exactly how to handle this situation. The shim was not exactly a razor-sharp dagger or a hand-filed toothbrush shiv, but the basic principles probably still applied.
Shawn moved a finger to point at the door again. “Seriously, dude. We’re losing daylight here. She’ll be here in three minutes and counting.” He paused, reconsidering the phrasing. “Down? Counting down?” Yeah, that sounded right. Shawn gave the man a confident nod, or at least as much of a nod as he could manage with a shim against his neck. “Counting down.”
It was always a little startling how compliant people could be when a sharp object was pressed against one of their vital spots. There were always those exceptional few who attempted to continue to resist, but that never ended well for them. Dan quirked a brow. Eyes, less narrowed, darted towards the door. It was open now. Perhaps Shawn Spencer - either the world’s most curious and unluckiest SOB, or someone else looking for the recipe - could be useful. “Awright. Spencer, is it? Kay. Yer gonna get up inta that truck and have a seat at the wheel. Take a look around and tell me if ya see the owner.” He tapped the shim lightly against Shawn’s throat to imply the threat should Shawn double cross him. “Go on. Get up there.”
Shawn looked up at the driver’s seat and then back down at the guy holding him hostage. One glance was enough. Shawn swallowed and thought fast. “That seat? You don’t want me in that seat” Nor did Shawn want to touch that seat. “I think I should stay right here, you know, just in case I spot them and need to distract them. If I sit up there, the seat belt might stick, the door handle could jam, what if I trip while trying to climb out and they spot me with the door open and one foot caught on the seat adjuster?” Granted, that last one would probably not happen since his sneakers were awesome and would not let him down like that.
“One wrong move and bam! Everyone knows it was you who took the last slice of Serena’s double-pine double-apple cheesecake that had been sitting in the fridge for far longer than dips should last.” Shawn felt very strongly that once a dessert was place in the fridge, it was free game. The same went with yogurt. Oh, and the occasional lasagna, but only on Mondays.
Shawn Spencer liked to talk. It was a trait he shared with Dan Smith, and it was because of that shared trait that Dan found him extremely irritating.
“Shut up,” Dan growled at him. The shim was pressed a little harder and a little rougher against Shawn’s throat. A warning. “I don’ care if ya get stuck in the seat belt or trip gettin’ out again. In fact,” a sharklike stretched over his face, “that’ll make my job easier. I’ll jus’ leave ya here an’ you can take the fall. Makes it easier fer me. Now, get up in tha truck, wouldja?”
Before Shawn Spencer had a chance to argue, Dan had spun him around and shoved him up into the truck. The owner had taken the keys with her, so there was no risk of his hostage making things even more complicated (and stupid) by trying to drive the truck. Dan pushed Shawn Spencer into the seat. He used the shim to point out the window towards the mall. “The minute you see those chicks comin’ back, you let me know.”
Shawn’s hands were still raised in surrender-mode as he tried to press his head even further against the truck to alleviate some of the pressure on his neck. Apparently, this guy felt strongly about this. He half-stumbled, half-was-pushed up the short steps into the driver’s seat. “Easy! Easy, man. This is a new shirt.” He hadn’t even washed it yet. Now it was going to get all wrinkly.
The pushy guy was already making his way to the pack of the truck, though, so he turned to look out the window, trying not to touch anything. Specifically, anything the driver could have sneezed on. The neatly-tied trash bag full of kleenex and cough drop wrappers was enough to see that perhaps he should get lunch at a different truck today. Sure, it could have been allergies, but everyone knew that allergies were just an excuse for people to feel better about getting their snot all over you.
Sitting in the slightly padded chair, Shawn spent a few seconds watching out the window before he grew bored of his lookout position. A bored Shawn was also a very nosy Shawn. “So Robbie, what’s your beef with Francisca, anyway?” Robber, Robbie. It seemed to fit. One last glance out the window and he was idly flipping through the various CDs in the zip-up case by the console. Finally, someone who appreciated a good CD case.
Dan snorted. “I don’ gotta beef,” he answered. “This is strictly business. Someone’s a little jealous of Francisca’s success.” He made his way to the rear of the truck where the food was prepared. Everything had been put away when Ms. Francisca and her assistant had taken their break. Bag full of snotrags in the driver’s seat notwithstanding, it looked as though the food truck owner at least had basic food handling understood. It was hot back here, though, and the added pressure of a time limit and a companion who couldn’t seem to shut up did not improve matters. Dan kept his focus on finding this goddamn recipe. He doubted that it would be just laying around and he started to go through drawers and cabinets.
“Does that mean you’re like a mercenary or something? A food truck assassin. Hey, see if there’s any extra sauce - they should have to go cups back there too.” Moving on from the CD case - who the hell actually puts a CD of Menudo next to Lynyrd Skynyrd?! - Shawn decided to continue looking around. Another glance out the window confirmed Francisca was still in the mall. Probably held up by Xavier, the talkative maintenance man who strangely did not live in an old brick mansion-turned-school.
There was an extra set of keys hidden beneath the wheel well and a Lincoln folded up in the never-used ashtray. Good to know. Opening the glove box, Shawn grinned. His mind (almost) completely forgot about the music debacle in favor of the well-loved recipe book that had been stuffed inside. “Hello, beautiful.” Without wasting any time or checking to see if the owner had made it out of Xavier’s mind-clutches, he quickly began thumbing through the book, looking for the recipe that had haunted his food truck dreams.
Dan rolled his eyes. “Ya really like hearin’ the sound of yer own voice, don’tcha?” He said. This job was becoming more of a hassle than was worth his time and effort. Dan had half a mind to just club the guy on the back of the head to shut him up. But then what would he do with an unconscious body? Well he could open the door and just kick him out, stuff him under the food truck and maybe he’d wake up before Francisca and her assistant drove off and crushed his body under their wheels.
Then his unwitting cohort fell silent and Dan quickly found that Shawn was more annoying staying silent than he was constantly talking. What the fuck was he doing up there? Dan peered around the open door of one of the cabinets and saw Shawn Spencer leafing through what looked to be a well worn notebook or journal. Something someone might write down their most private or intimate thoughts in. Or most sought after recipes.
Dan quickly closed the distance between him and the front seat. He snatched the book out of Shawn’s hand. Was it really that fucking easy? Dan quickly flipped through the pages and found recipe after recipe scrawled within the pages. “So much for lock and key,” he groused.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” Shawn cried out as the book was torn out of his hands. He’d only been able to get through the first half of the book before he was so rudely and immaturely (read: prematurely) interrupted. He reached for the book to take it back. “Get your own stolen recipe book!” Most importantly, he’d only managed to see the first half of the special cheese sauce recipe, Robbie’s hand having blocked the latter half with his hand when he had taken the book.
Dan blocked him and shoved him back in his seat. “Settle down,” he said, keeping the heel of his palm planted firmly on Shawn’s forehead as he looked over the recipe. Dan wasn’t much of a cook. He didn’t know a bake from a broil, but this certainly looked right. “Is this it?” He asked, shoving the recipe in front of Shawn’s face. “Is this the uber secret recipe for the truck’s cheese sauce?”
Shawn would have protested that the hand against his forehead was a bit much, but he was too busy focusing on the book being shoved in his face. He allowed himself a full five seconds to look down the recipe, verifying the ingredients and filing the image away for later. He pried the page away from Robbie the Robber’s fingers so that he could check the back of the page. Good. That was all of it. “That’s it. That’s-” He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Shit. Francisca was on her way back.
All bets were off. Shawn ducked to get the hand off of his forehead so that he could make a break for it. “She’s coming! Put it back and let’s get the hell out of here!”
“What?” Dan’s attention jerked towards the mall. The truck owner and her assistant had left the mall and were making their way back towards the truck. Looks as though times up. Dan let Shawn go, but he kept an eye on him. If the chatterbox looked as though he was going to make a break for the woman, he’d put a stop to that. However, he wasn’t about to leave without what he came for in the first place.
He placed the recipe book on the dashboard and held it open with one hand while he used his phone to get a good photograph of the cheese sauce recipe. He flipped the page and got the back, just in case. Then he shoved the book back into the open glove box and slammed it shut. Then, unceremoniously, Dan shoved Shawn out of the truck in front of him and then jumped down himself. He ducked low behind the cars and quickly put distance between himself and the truck. He didn’t see which way Shawn Spencer had gone, and honestly, he didn’t give a fuck.
“What is it with you and shoving people?” Shawn commented as he was unceremoniously pushed out of the truck, barely missing eating pavement. Thank God for KangaRoos. He followed suit, ducking behind the cars and following the man down the row. Quick glances over his shoulder confirmed that Francisca had not seen them dash out of the truck. Or at least had yet to follow them.
There was a shout from the direction of the truck, but he could not be sure whether that was from evidence they had left behind or a hungry customer having spotted the woman. Shawn was not about to stick around to find out. He did, however, need to find out if Robbie had managed to save any of the sauce. He’d need it to calm the craving while he found someone to make him a vat of the stuff. “Hey!” He called in a stage whisper. “Did you get the sauce?”
Christ on a cracker! Of all the people in Orange County why had Shawn Spencer crossed his path. Dan grabbed hold of him and pulled him down between two cars and out of sight. He probably didn’t need to pull him down quite so roughly, but the sound of Shawn’s backside hitting the pavement was a little satisfying. “Get down and shut up!” He hissed at him and then to be sure Shawn actually followed instructions Dan clamped a hand over his mouth.
Dan’d heard that shout as well. God dammit, this was supposed to be a simple job. It had only become complicated because of this asshole. If he was spotted, if his career came to a grinding halt because of Shawn Fucking Spencer, the KangaRoo Wearing Churro Muncher would pay. Squatting between the cars, Dan strained his ears to listen for any telltale noises that indicated they’d been spotted. He could hear a bit of a murmur coming from the truck, but he couldn’t quite make out what was going on. Hand still clasped firmly over Shawn’s mouth, Dan craned his neck and peered through the rear windows of the car they were behind.
No one was coming after them. No one was even looking in the direction the two intruders had gone. There was definitely excitement happening at the food truck, but it was clearly because Francisca was returning and her hungry patrons would soon be rewarded for their patience with delicious food slathered in cheese sauce.
Dan let out a breath and lowered himself back to the pavement. He looked back at Shawn. “Awright, I’m gonna let go a yer mouth now. ‘Fore I do, promise me you’ll be quiet. Blink once if you understand.”
Shawn’s mouth may have been covered, but his eyes did his best to communicate his feelings toward the stranger that had all but tackled him to the pavement. First of all, ow. Parking lots were not exactly known for being soft and Shawn was pretty sure his jeans were now sporting some serious skid marks. Secondly, where the hell did this guy get his lines? Bad Boys II?
Dutifully, Shawn blinked once for the Jack Reacher wannabe. From the sound of things, the food truck second wind service was in full swing. Man, the line had probably doubled in length by now. “The sauce.” He said in an actual whisper once his mouth was free. “Did you get it?”
Dan honestly couldn’t care less about how painful the tackle was,or how hard the ground was. He hadn’t told Shawn Spencer to follow him. Jesus Christ. At least Shawn Spencer had the sense enough in him to know when to behave. And because of that Dan decided to throw the guy a bone. A small bone. “Of course I got it,” he hissed back at him. He was no amature at this kind of thing.
With another glance thrown over his shoulder at the food truck to be certain no one was paying them attention, Dan slowly got to his feet and started walking away, taking a long loop back towards his car.
Shawn likely knew more about common sense than any five people combined. Which was exactly why he chose not to use that knowledge if he could help it. A person can’t really live while always taking the safe and logical route. Especially when food was involved. Which reminded him...Robbie said he had the goods, right? Well it was time for him to share the wealth.
“Great.” Shawn casually caught up to the man, trying to surreptitiously figure out where the man could be hiding the sauce. “So where is it?”
Dan couldn't believe this guy was for real. Dan glanced at him with an expression that clearly portrayed that he thought Shawn Spencer was out of his goddamn mind. First the guy had made the entire job far more complicated than it should be and now he wanted the recipe too? For free?! Dan grunted and kept walking. “Stop followin’ me.”
Shawn was not about to let delicious food out of his sight. “Don’t hold out on me now, Robbie.” He picked up his pace to match the other man’s. “Do you have it in like a cup or a thermos or something?” As discretely as possible, he tried to see where Robbie could’ve hidden the goods.
Christ. Shawn Spencer didn’t know when to give up. Normal people would have run away by now. Usually having a weapon pressed against their throat was enough to do it. But no. Not Shawn Spencer, whose common sense seemed to have an elusive relationship with him. What the hell was he talking about anyway? Cups and thermoses? This guy was clearly insane.
“Go away,” Dan growled over his shoulder at him. It was Shawn’s luck that they were in the middle of a parking lot and therefore way too many witnesses were around. Besides, Dan wasn’t getting paid to shoot Shawn between the eyes, no matter how much he wanted to.
Under normal circumstances, Shawn would have done his best to get far, far away from someone who had willingly and easily threatened him. This, however, was not a normal circumstance. There was nacho cheese sauce on the line right now and he was quickly coming to the realization that Robbie hadn’t picked up any sauce while in the back of the truth. The hell, man? Did the guy really just come for a copy of the recipe and leave the actual product untouched? Was that even possible?
“When you said you got the sauce, you didn’t actually get the sauce, did you?” Another sharp once-over revealed no hidden cups or other receptacles normally used in the transport of delicious goods. Man, he was going to have to get back in line again. He gave a bit of a tsk and looked down his nose at Robbie. “You had four whole minutes and you didn’t even think to take some with you?”
Dan sighed patiently. “Why would I do that?” He asked. “I don’ need it and I wasn’t sent to get the sauce. Anyone kin get the sauce, ya idiot. It’s what goes in the sauce that’s important.” He turned sharply to face Shawn Spencer. “Now, I don’ have whatcha want, so fer the last time. Go. Away.”
Shawn tsk’d at the man. “Why only get one when you can have both?” He gave the man a once over before stopping. “Amateur.” He would’ve gotten the sauce. Now there was barely enough time to get in line again before he was due back at the studio. With a long-suffering sigh, Shawn gave Robbie a dismissing wave before peeling off to return to the food truck. People really needed to learn to take food trucks seriously.
That was ballsy. Dan narrowed his eyes at as his “partner” for the day walked off. The only thing that saved Shawn Spencer from having the back of his head be introduced to the butt of Dan’s magnum intimately was the fact that he was finally walking away.
Good fucking riddance.
The recipe gained and safely stored away on his phone, Dan headed back to his car. He had definitely earned his paycheck today.