The Secret Menu

Once upon a time there was a food truck. A very special food truck called Culinary Relights. Many people knew of its existence. Being built inside of a heavily modified RV gave the establishment a distinct and memorable edge to it. What very few people knew, however, was that Culinary Relights was no ordinary food truck. Everyone who ate the food knew that it was special, and some would even go so far as to call it magical. They just didn’t realize how true that was.

Culinary Relights didn’t follow any particular pattern for where it would be set up, but that didn’t matter. It had a favorable enough reputation among the people of Portland that whenever it was open for business, a steady stream of customers would start flowing in almost immediately.

On the day in which this story takes place, that was no different.

The moment the sun appeared over the horizon, Ethan lifted up the shutter to begin the day. He was met with someone already waiting outside. He leaned over the counter to look at the waiting man. He held a black briefcase in one hand that somehow contrasted with the rumpled black suit he wore. The only thing more prominent than the bags beneath his eyes was the crooked red tie he wore.

“What can I do for you?” Ethan asked easily.

The Rumpled Man stifled a yawn. His eyes flickered over the menu hanging above Ethan. “Coffee cake,” he said simply. “Please.”

“Are you in a hurry?” Ethan asked. “Anywhere you need to be?”

The Rumpled Man shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“Let’s make it a cupcake, then.” Ethan leaned back away from the counter to peer deeper into the RV. “One coffee cupcake, quick as you can!”

“I heard,” came the gruff voice of Ethan’s uncle Ryder. In the center of the kitchenette he crouched down beside one of the ovens. “Fresh batch’ll be out in a minute.”

Ethan turned back to the Rumpled Man. “That’ll be out in just a minute,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“So, what’s the hurry for, anyway?”

The Rumpled Man sighed and rubbed one of his eyes. “I have to give a presentation to my boss’s boss in half an hour.”

Ethan leaned back again. “Throw some Vela shavings on top!”

Ryder gave no reply, but Ethan could see him already digging through the second refrigerator to grab the requested bottle.

The Rumpled Man didn’t say a word about Ethan’s unilateral change to his order. It was something of an unspoken rule about Culinary Relights that, when Ethan was manning the counter, he could and would make any changes he thought necessary to an order. While anyone could request he not do so, it had been so long since that last happened he didn’t even remember when it was.

The Rumpled Man handed Ethan the bills to pay for the order and started to leave. As he walked away, he took a bite of his cupcake. He stood up taller and balanced his cupcake and briefcase in the same hand so his free hand could start to smooth out his rumpled suit.

Customers came and went from the food truck for several hours after that, though Ethan didn’t feel the need to make any alterations to their orders.

Around lunchtime came the expected flood of teenagers from the nearby school, all looking to get a lunch that wasn’t served in the cesspit of hate and sin and crimes against cuisine that is a school cafeteria, as Ryder liked to call it. Ethan wouldn’t complain. Business was business, and money was money.

Halfway through the line of students a girl not much older than Ethan walked to the counter. She wore the same uniform that most of her classmates in line wore, most recognizable for the stylized capital P over her heart. Her hair was styled so it fell over half of her face, but Ethan could still see hints of a black eye beneath.

The Black Eyed P dropped money onto the counter. “A turkey sandwich, please.”

“Coming right up,” Ethan responded, taking the money and opening the register to get her change. “Are you okay?”

The Black Eyed P blinked with her good eye. “What do you mean?” she asked, even going so far as to tilt her head in confusion.

“I just couldn’t help but notice…” Instead of voicing what he’d noticed, Ethan just gestured to his own eye. The Black Eyed P seemed to get the message.

“Oh, this?” She reached up but stopped herself from actually touching the mostly hidden bruise. “It’s nothing. Just a softball accident. I’m fine.”

Ethan let out a short hum in response. He didn’t know whether to believe the Black Eyed P or not, but he supposed in the long run nothing would really change either way. “We’re having a special today,” he said instead. “Every order comes with a free cup of tea.”

“What kind?” the Black Eyed P asked cautiously.

“What kind did you want?”

She stared up at Ethan for a long moment. She likely would have gone longer, but the boy in line behind her nudged her with his elbow. She pushed him back without looking. “Green tea.”

Ethan nodded and passed on the order to Ryder. A minute later he handed it out to her, one item at a time. “Here you go. One turkey sandwich, one cup of green tea, and a bit of honey to go with it.” Ethan balanced the small plastic tube of Funi Honey on top of the open cup he gave to the Black Eyed P.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the order and leaving.

Ethan watched her sit down on a nearby bench and start to pour the honey into the tea. She took a sip and then shifted, reaching up to rub her eye, the bruise already less prominent. He nodded and turned to the next customer.

“What can I do for you?” he asked the Elbowing Boy.

“Ham and cheese sandwich.”

“That’ll be seven dollars.”

“And I’d like a ginseng tea,” the Elbowing Boy added.

“That brings you up to eight dollars,” Ethan said.

“No, it’s not!” the Elbowing Boy shouted, actually stomping his foot against the ground at the same time. “You have a special! Orders come with free tea!”

Ethan didn’t even react to the Elbowing Boy’s tantrum. “That’s a vile rumor. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around.”

The Elbowing Boy let out a wordless scream and huffed before stomping away from Culinary Relights. The next student in line moved up to the counter. “What can I do for you?” Ethan asked. He looked up from the next student and watched the Elbowing Boy, pitching his voice up so it would carry over to him. “We’re having a special today.”

Ethan didn’t get the chance to share the special over the sound of the Elbowing Boy’s indignant squawk, but the next student got the general idea anyhow.

Business slowed down after the lunch rush, though a gentle trickle still continued throughout the day. Things picked up for dinner and then relaxed again afterward.

The moment the sun met the horizon, Ethan reached up to start pulling the shutter down.

“Wait!”

Ethan stopped with the shutter halfway down and looked in the direction of the voice. An absolutely drenched person was jogging up to the RV. The Drenched Person’s hair clung to his face. Water spilled from his frame, dripping onto the pavement as he ran closer.

Ethan leaned his head out of the RV and looked up at the sky. There were no clouds that he could see, and he was positive that there hadn’t been any rain that day.

The Drenched Person skidded to a halt in front of the RV. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. Water quickly pooled around his feet. “Thank goodness you’re open,” he rasped.

“Actually, we’re just about to close up for the day,” Ethan admitted.

“What?!” the Drenched Person shrieked. He lunged forward to lean over the counter, almost climbing up onto it. “You can’t be closed!”

“We really can,” Ethan drawled. His eyes flickered up to the setting sun. “If you could please back away. I’d rather not crush your hands.” Ethan pointedly pulled the shutter down a bit further.

“Please!” the Drenched Person shouted, scrambling and moving to crawl along the counter. Ethan grabbed a nearby spatula just in case he’d have to pry the Drenched Person’s hands away. “This is the only place on this side of the country that sells food with Relights in it!”

Ethan froze at the Drenched Person’s words. He didn’t lift the shutter, but he didn’t pull it down either. He didn’t say anything. He leaned back and looked down the length of the RV. Ryder was nowhere to be seen.

The Drenched Person seemed to take this as permission to keep talking. “Please, you have no idea what it took to get here. I’ve been all over town. Twice! I had to crawl through a sweet old lady’s window. I hid out inside a porta potty for an hour. I fell into the river. Please, you’ve gotta help me.”

Ethan glanced at the setting sun again. Half of it had already disappeared beneath the horizon. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “What exactly do you need?”

The Drenched Person all but melted onto the counter. “I’m cursed,” he explained quickly. “It’s really bad. Last night, there was this witch. Lazuli. I… I don’t know what she did, but ever since then I’ve been… the… doors aren’t working right for me. I walk through the door to a kitchen, I wind up in an elevator three buildings over. I try to leave my apartment, I’m stuck in the bedroom. Doors aren’t working! They’re not taking me where I’m supposed to go!”

“Is it just doors?” Ethan asked. “You mentioned a window earlier. Was that because of the curse? Does there have to be a physical door, or would a doorway work? Do they always lead to the same places?”

“Does all that matter?”

“Curses are tricky,” Ethan snapped. “And we’re running out of time.”

“The window was an accident,” the Drenched Person answered. “I was on a roof, the door locked behind me, and I assumed the window would work the same. Anything with an actual door, just holes in the wall won’t trigger it. The locations seem to randomize every now and then, but I can’t figure out a pattern.”

“What’s the farthest you’ve gone? How far do doors take you?”

“A few blocks, maybe?”

“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? No outlier trips across the city? No accidental jaunts to Bangkok?”

“No, nothing.”

Ethan stared at the man for a split second. His eyes flickered to the nearly vanished sun for even less time. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Ethan turned and ran into the kitchen. He opened the third refrigerator from the left and grabbed one of the bright pink milkshakes lining the door. He plucked a small unlabeled bottle from one of the spice racks built into the cabinets and rushed back to the counter. The Drenched Person was right where he’d left him.

Ethan flicked the lid off the bottle and poured the liquid inside into the milkshake. “Basic curse removal milkshake, with half a teaspoon of Azha Vanilla for an added kick of spatial locking. Mix it all together and drink every drop, you should be fine.”

Ethan glanced back toward the sunset. He could see only the barest sliver of the sun. “Good luck.” He threw the milkshake into the Drenched Person’s hands. Without waiting for a response Ethan grabbed the shutter and yanked it down. It slammed against the counter with a resounding clang just as the sun fully sank below the horizon.

The door to the bedroom at the back of the RV creaked open. Ryder stuck his head out. “What’s going on out here?”

Ethan shrugged and began washing his hands. “Oh, you know. Business as usual."