Work Text:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGulsBIpt_I
The morning of March 13th, 2020
Reggie Miller put his phone down, having just sent a text to Kenny Smith. His eyes swept across his desk as he played with the commemorative bobblehead of himself, stopping on the picture from Christmas of 2019 when he dressed his cats as the entire 1995 Indiana Pacers team and took them to see Santa at the mall. But unlike most people, Reggie didn’t see Christmas as the most wonderful time of the year, no, that was reserved for March Madness. Just a week away, he was already practicing his March Madness ritual which, of course, started with the one and only official breakfast of March Madness: Wendy’s.
Reggie was never one to do anything by halves since that simply was not the “Miller way,” as his father used to put it. When the doctor told pre-teen Reggie he’d never walk normally due to hip deformities, he took that as a challenge. He was teased at school for the awkward braces he had to wear but when his legs finally grew strong enough, he was dunking on those fucking punk-ass jerks in every pickup game after school. Even as he grew stronger and taller, he made a vow to never bully people for their weaknesses.
The phone buzzing on the desk broke him out of his haze. Kenny had replied that he couldn’t join Reggie at Wendy’s for breakfast. Reggie sighed, picked up his iPhone 10, which looked comically small in his giant hand, and put it in his pocket. Having breakfast alone wasn’t so bad, especially when it was at Wendy’s.
~*~
Outside of Wendy’s, Reggie noticed a woman standing outside her car with some sort of cloth mask on. He had seen more and more people wearing those lately, increasing as people were getting sick. There had even been rumors that The Ball would be canceled altogether, which would be disastrous. But if it happened, it was with good cause, he knew. Lately, Reggie had been reading about the Spanish Flu Pandemic from the early 1900s and remembering his days of studying History at UCLA. If there’s one thing that he had taken away from college it was that those who ignored history were damned to repeat it.
No other customers were inside the Wendy’s and the two staff stood behind the counter looking at their phones. As he contemplated if he wanted a croissant or biscuit sandwich, always a difficult decision for him, a commotion started in the back of the store. A man, wearing a Wendy’s button-up shirt and tie with tiny frosty’s on it, rushed up to the other two staff, almost slipping on the grease-laden floor in his haste.
“It’s official, we are closing the store for the next week at least….probably longer though, who know’s how long this Covid thing will last,” he said, breathless and anxious. The two employees immediately began turning off machines as quickly as they could. Looking towards Reggie, clearly ready to tell any customers to leave the store, he paused. “Wait, are you Reggie Miller? Number 31?” The surprise on his face turned his mouth into a perfectly round “O.”
Reggie smiled, “Yup, that’s me. Could I maybe get a sandwich before you close? It’s just a tradition around March Madness and all.”
While he was speaking, the door from outside opened and the woman from the parking lot strode in, clearly preoccupied with her phone to notice the panicked action happening behind the counter.
The manager had an expression of contention on his face, starstruck by Reggie but also sad, mourning the loss of something sacred. “You haven’t heard yet?” he said, his voice a solemn whisper. “They’ve canceled it, they’ve canceled the whole Ball. I mean, that’s the reason I work at Wendy’s at all. To serve the loyal March Madness customers who come every year for our delicious breakfast sandwiches and coffee drinks.”
Reggie’s body felt as though it had been dunked in ice water, no pun intended. His ears felt filled with cotton, the manager’s voice getting farther and farther away. He was shocked. Surely this man wasn’t telling the truth, what kind of madness was this? Certainly not March Madness, as he was quickly beginning to realize. Dazed, he reached into his pocket for his tiny iPhone 10 and saw he had forty missed messages. “Wow, 40 is a really good number,” Reggie thought.
The manager was still talking, Reggie realized, so he focused again.
“...so that’s why the CDC is suggesting we shelter in place, make a bubble to prevent the disease from spreading more,” the manager’s eyes gazed into the distance, past the large cling stickers on the windows advertising sandwiches who could choke you to death if you weren’t careful. A look of realization spread over the manager’s face. “Shit, I have to go get my kids from daycare!” He immediately jumped over the counter, as graceful as a one-winged dove, and dashed out the door.
Looking around the store, Reggie saw that the other employees had left and he was alone with this woman who continued to stare at her phone. Not sure what else to do, he went around the counter and walked into the kitchen area to make himself a biscuit AND croissant sandwich. Eating Wendy’s breakfast always helped him think better and that’s what he needed to do now. He had to have some sort of plan.
While cooking the Maple Bacon Chicken Croissant, the breast so juicy it was practically lactating on the grill, Reggie wondered what would happen if Wendy’s was closed longer than a week. As a true March Madness fan, he had a deep need to be a Wendy’s patron year-round. And making the food at home was just not the same. He recalled the many attempts he had made over the years to truly replicate even something as simple as a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit. No matter how many times he had bought the freshest Grade A eggs and most American cheese, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as when he was sitting in a tiny booth at Wendy’s, his knees touching the underside of the table, as he bit into that fluffy buttermilk biscuit.
And with that, his mind was made up. He would stay here. This Wendy’s, just off of Highway 69 in Fishers Indiana, would be his home until the world righted itself and March Madness resumed.
~*~
Carrying the tray of scrumptious Wendy’s food out to the dining area, Reggie noticed that the woman was still there, looking at the menu. When he appeared, her eyes drew to his and she asked “Is the Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit any good? I haven’t had that one before.”
Reggie smiled and said “I don’t work here, but yes I have had it and it’s perfectly seasoned and topped with some amazing maple honey butter. Both savory and sweet, I’d absolutely recommend it.”
The woman smiled, slightly confused. “But if you don’t work here, why were you back there? Where are the employees? I was hoping to speak to the manager.”
Setting his tray down, Reggie broke the news to her. With each detail, the color drained from her face and she grabbed for the counter to steady herself.
“What do you mean, The Ball is canceled!? And this Wendy’s is closed?! I wanted to apply for a job here!” Her eyes started to dart from side to side as she tried to come up with some sort of plan on where to go next. In a small voice, she said “I don’t even have a place to bubble, I’ve been staying in my car and trying to find some work at a Wendy’s. I just love March Madness so much.” She sighed heavily and turned towards the door.
“Wait,” Reggie said. “How about this, you can stay here and work for me. I can train you on how to use the grill and everything.”
She turned around, her eyes betraying her excitement with a hint of wariness. “Are you sure? How could you possibly pay me?”
Reggie smiled and said, “don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you can get a place of your own on what you earn here. What’s your name, by the way?”
The woman’s eyes shone with tears of joy, “Kathryn, my name is Kathryn.”
Chapter II: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31176362