The Midnight Hour

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*****

December 31st 1977

The Midnight Hour

"Hey Keith, could you give me a hand?" asked a familiar voice from behind the dark-haired teen.

Looking up from the large stainless steel bin that he had been emptying shredded lettuce into, Keith Stone glanced over his shoulder. There he saw Pete Malone, one of his fellow crew mates at the Park Slope Burger Barn, struggling with two large plastic garbage bags.

"Sure thing, Pete," the eighteen year old replied as he turned the bag of lettuce upside down and shook out the last bits. "Just give me a minute to finish up here and get my coat."

After tossing the now empty bag into the refuse pail under the table, Keith took the tray and carried it over to the food preparation area where, lifting out an empty bin, he replaced it with the one he'd just filled. Then he took the old container over to one of the oversized sinks and rinsed it out, laying it on a drying rack when he was done.

Returning to Pete and the trash bags, Keith donned a pair of work gloves he carried in his back pocket before trying to lift one of the bags. Even with only a month's experience under his belt, the teenager knew that the bags were usually heavier than they looked, and the one in front of him proved no exception. Keith had been lifting weights since he was nine, and while no one would describe him as a bodybuilder, it had left him with a well-toned form. Even so, it took the two of them to lift each bag and toss it behind those already piled up in the parking lot dumpster. Much too often, if a bag didn't clear the top of the pile, it would fall right back at you.

"Thanks, Keith," Pete said as the nineteen year old took off his own gloves. "I was already on my way out the door when Conrad snagged me and said to take out the trash before I went. I'll tell you, from the way he was looking at me, I was worried that he was going to ask me to stay a few hours after my shift, and that would've really sucked - especially tonight."

Conrad Wilson was the store manager and notorious for understaffing the schedule, then asking employees to work extra hours at the last minute if things got busy. As he saw it, why schedule people to just stand around with nothing to do if he didn't have to? Twice during his probation he had done that to Keith, knowing that the new employee wasn't in a position to say no. Most of the staff thought Conrad was a grade A asshole.

"Oh, did you have something special going on tonight?" Keith asked, trying to act as if Pete hadn't spent the better part of the last week telling anyone who would listen about having been invited to his uncle's New Year's Eve party down in Brooklyn Heights.

Keith had actually read about Pete's uncle in the Post's entertainment section a few times. Theodore Malone ran a highly successful talent agency in Manhattan and it was a given that any party of his would be filled with beautiful young women, all eager to make an impression on him. It was Pete's fevered hope that at least one of them might be willing to settle for making an impression on Ted's favorite nephew instead. It had been Keith's belief that, nephew or not, few of those women were going to be impressed by someone who worked at Burger Barn, which had been his primary reason for originally saying no.

"You know very well what tonight is, smart ass," Pete said with a grin, "and despite the fact that I don't know why I'm asking, it's not too late for you to change your mind and come with me. My uncle did say I could bring a guest."

That his uncle had assumed that that guest would be female was something that had escaped the tall redhead. He had asked several co-workers to go with him, but all had declined, until he'd eventually worked his way down to Keith.

"Sorry, but even if I wanted to change my mind, I wouldn't be able to go," Keith replied as he stowed away his own gloves. "I'll still be here when the ball drops."

"Wait a second, you're on closing?" Pete asked, a look of confusion on his face. "I thought you were on the noon to eight shift, just like me."

"I was, but I switched shifts," Keith explained.

"On New Year's Eve?" Pete asked in disbelief. "Who the hell volunteers for the late shift on New Year's Eve?"

"I guess I do," Keith smiled. "It's no big thing, really. Someone asked me to do them a favor and I said yes, it's as simple as that."

"That's some favor," Pete said, pausing just before the kitchen door to look back and ask who had Keith switched with?

Before Keith could answer, the heavy door suddenly swung open with such force that Pete had to jump back to avoid being hit by it. His abrupt backward motion caught Keith off guard and, in trying to get out of the way, the younger teen tripped and fell to the ground a few feet away.

Stepping out of the doorway, indifferent to the disturbance she'd caused, strode a short haired, buxom blonde wearing the same brown and tan uniform as the two teenagers - although it had to be said, she wore it much better, or at least garnered more interest when she did. Few people cared or even noticed if any of the guys left a blouse button open. Only two months older than Pete, Brooke Porter displayed a haughty expression, one fueled by the belief that, having recently celebrated her twentieth birthday, she was so above her co-workers still in their teens.

"Jesus, Brooke," Pete yelled once he saw her, "you can't just slam the door open like that. It almost hit me!"

"Almost doesn't count," Brooke replied just as quickly, disdain in her tone.

Trying to ignore Pete, she took hold of the zipper of her winter jacket and pulled it just a bit higher, trying to ward off more of the chilly night air.

Not willing to be ignored, Pete was about to say something else when Brooke looked beyond him and saw the figure picking himself off the ground. It took her a moment to recognize the younger teen, but once she did, her demeanor abruptly changed - and in a manner that totally bewildered Pete.

"Oh my God, Keith, are you okay?" she asked as she rushed past Pete, her voice filled with concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm fine," Keith said, brushing off some of the dirt that had gotten on his coat when he'd hit the ground.

"Oh, thank goodness," Brooke said, expressing what actually sounded like genuine relief. "I'd never have forgiven myself if you'd gotten hurt because of something I did. I should've been more careful with that door."

"I'm fine, really," Keith insisted, even though his shin was a little sore where he had scraped it against the concrete.

"You're sure?" she repeated.

"I'm sure," Keith smiled.

They stood there for a few seconds looking at each other, until Brooke said that she had to run an errand for Conrad and that she'd see him later. Then she turned and headed toward the open gate that led out into the street.

Pete had been too dumbfounded to say anything about Brooke's bizarre behavior, at least until she was out of earshot. Once she was, however, he quickly turned to Keith in search of an explanation.

"What the hell was that about?" he thundered.

"What do you mean?" Keith asked in a much quieter tone.

"Since when does Brooke Porter give you so much as the time of day, much less act concerned about your health?" Pete bellowed. "That bitch wouldn't care if you were laying on the ground bleeding, other than the fact that she might have to walk around you to get where she was going. That is, if she didn't decide that would be too much of an inconvenience and just stepped over you instead."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?" Keith asked in reply, ignoring the question.

"No," Pete said firmly. "She's a first class bitch and doesn't care who knows it."

"Well, I've only worked a few shifts with her, but so far she's been nice enough to me," Keith countered.

"Trust me, that'll change soon enough," Pete insisted.

"Maybe she's trying to turn over a new leaf for New Year's," Keith suggested.

"Yeah, right," Pete grunted as a disturbing thought flashed through his head. "Keith, please tell me that Brooke wasn't the person you switched shifts with."

"No, it wasn't Brooke," Keith replied, but not without a slight hesitation that, thankfully, Pete didn't notice.

"Good, because I didn't think even you could do something that dumb," Pete said only half-jokingly.

"Shouldn't you be getting to your party?" Keith pointed out, wanting to end the discussion.

"Oh yeah, right," Pete replied, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "It's really a pity you can't come, it's going to be a hell of a party."

"I'll manage," Keith smiled, telling his friend to have a good time.

As Pete went off in the same direction Brooke had gone, Keith felt grateful that the older teen was in too much of a hurry to ask any more questions. If he had, Pete might've learned that, while he hadn't switched shifts with Brooke, he had made the swap at her request. And if Pete knew that, he would've hounded Keith until he explained why, and that would've certainly ruined everything.

As he stepped up to the kitchen door and reached for the handle, Keith mentally revisited the conversation he'd had with Brooke the day before. She had caught him just before the end of his shift as he was getting ready to call it a night.

-=-=-=-=-

"You have a minute, Keith?" Brooke had asked as he was about to go and clean up.

"Sure, do you need something?" he asked.

"Yes, actually I do," she said. "I need a little favor - well, actually, it's probably a big favor."

"Oh?" Keith replied.

During his first few weeks at Burger Barn, Keith had heard a number of disparaging comments about Brooke Porter, ranging from her being a spoiled princess who got the job because the owner was some distant relation, to one using the 'C' word to describe her. As he'd said to Pete, Brooke and his schedules rarely overlapped, so he hadn't yet formed an opinion about her. So, until he did, he preferred to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Can we talk in the break room?" Brooke asked as she glanced to their right, where another co-worker was unpacking a box of hamburger buns a few feet away.

Break room was a bit of a misnomer, in that the room in which they now stood was primarily used for storage, the walls lined with the raw materials that they daily turned into the finest fast food available, or so the sign out front said. It was the addition of a small table and stools that had led to the often used designation.

"You're working tomorrow night, aren't you?" she asked once they were alone.

"Yeah, noon to eight," Keith replied.

"Me too," Brooke said. "Only I'm here until closing."

"That's too bad," Keith said, thinking he knew where this was going.

"Oh, I don't mind," Brooke said. "I didn't really have any New Year's plans."

Keith found that surprising, but didn't have a chance to really think about it before Brooke asked if he had any plans of his own.

"Well, my family usually goes over to my aunt's house to watch the ball drop," Keith answered.

"No girlfriend?" she unexpectedly asked.

"No, no girlfriend," he replied a bit embarrassedly.

"Really, a cute guy like you?" Brooke said. "I find that surprising."

"Well, I was dating someone, but it didn't work out," Keith offered, not wanting to sound pathetic.

"Good, I mean not good that it didn't work out, but good that now I'm sure you'll understand what I wanted to talk to you about," Brooke quickly said.

Not knowing yet what she meant by that, Keith didn't reply, preferring to wait until he had more to go on.

"You might've heard that I was going out with Doug Evans," Brooke said.

Keith nodded, having heard two of the other girls at Burger Barn talking about it. Five ten and a hundred and seventy-five pounds, the blonde haired former high school baseball star had been hired a few months before Keith and quickly drew the interest of just about the entire female staff, at least those under thirty. From what Keith had also heard, Brooke had added to the resentment some felt for her by swooping in and latching on to Doug as her own.

"Well, the key word there is 'was'," Brooke emphasized. "Things didn't quite work out."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Keith offered, wondering if she'd use his own wording to encourage a feeling of empathy towards her.

"Which brings me to the favor," Brooke quickly added, taking a very deep breath that drew Keith's attention to her impressive chest, a good part of which was visible through the unbuttoned top of her blouse.

Brooke went on to explain that Doug hadn't taken their breakup well. In fact, it was getting that even working the same shift as him was proving to be a bit awkward. She's talked to Conrad about it and, while he said he'd try to work it out that they weren't scheduled together in the future, there wasn't anything he could do about New Year's Eve when the both of them were scheduled to close.

"If it were any other night, I could deal with it," Brooke continued, "but it's New Year's Eve and I really don't want to be with him at midnight. It might give him the wrong idea."

"I guess it could," Keith agreed, "but if you're looking for me to change shifts with you, I'm ..."

"Oh no, not with me," she cut him off, "with Doug."

"Excuse me?" Keith said.

"If you switched shifts with Doug, then I would be with you at midnight instead of him," she stated.

That would solve her problem, Keith thought, but not why he should give up his New Year's plans, unexciting as they were. To his surprise, Brooke had an answer to that, one both unexpected and, he had to admit, compelling.

"You said you don't have a girlfriend, right?" she said.

"No, I don't," he repeated, slightly annoyed to be asked again since he'd told her that just a few minutes before. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, sharing a kiss when the ball drops is sort of traditional, isn't it?" Brooke pointed out. "And since you're not seeing anyone, my giving you one wouldn't be a problem."

"I'm supposed to give up my New Year's Eve for a kiss?" Keith asked, thinking that would've been a weak offer even in junior high. "You really think a kiss from you is worth that much?" .

"It might be," Brooke grinned as she moved closer to him, again displaying her breasts. "if you take into account what might go with it."

"What do you mean?" Keith inquired.

"I'm sure you've heard some of the unkind things people have said about me," Brooke replied as she came even closer, until only a few inches separated them, "some of the names they've called me. Well, I'm going to be honest with you and admit that not all of them are undeserved. There are times when ... well, times that I'm not always a good girl."

Emphasizing her admission, Brooke reached up and undid the fourth button of her blouse, now exposing the red lace bra beneath it as well as more of the bodacious bounty it contained. Keith took a deep breath, one he almost choked on when, in nearly the same moment, Brooke laid her other hand against his cock, which was already semi-erect, rubbing it a few times.

"You do this for me," she said as she gripped his hardness even tighter, "and I'll make sure that you greet the New Year with a bang."

"Are you saying that you'll ..." Keith asked, almost unable to find his voice.

"Well, I'm not saying that I'd fuck you," Brooke interjected. "We'd have to see how the night went. But I do give a killer blow job, or so I've been told."

She stroked his cock a few more times, causing Keith to fear he was about to stain his shorts. Then, just as unexpectedly as she had put it there, Brooke pulled her hand away.

"So what's it going to be, Keith, will you do it?" she asked.

Keith shook his head for a second, trying to clear the sudden fog that had engulfed it. He had to be dreaming, he thought; things like this don't really happen, at least not to him.

"But what if Doug won't switch?" Keith asked, his head clearing just enough to see that possible flaw in her plan.

"But what if he will?" Brooke replied. "You have nothing to lose by asking him, and everything to gain."

"I guess so," Keith said as he looked down and again lost himself in the fullness of her breasts.

"But you can't tell anyone about this," Brooke finally added as a caution. "If you do, the deal is off."

"Not a word," he promised, thinking as he did that no one would believe him anyway.

After hanging up his jacket, Keith stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands, smiling as he recalled Doug's reaction when he'd asked to switch shifts for tonight. He'd been all prepared to tell a story about how he needed the afternoon off to take care of something important, only to find that Doug was happy to make the swap. From what he'd said, Keith got the sense that Brooke had totally misread her ex's reaction to their breakup, especially after Doug mentioned that he had been invited to a party in the city and would much rather be there at midnight than here with Brooke. It looked like a win-win situation for everyone.

-=-=-=-=-

As a junior member of the staff, Keith got most of the shit jobs, among which was cleaning the bathrooms every few hours. Given the dearth of customers as the night progressed, he was able to give each of them such a thorough scrubbing between nine and ten that he'd only have to do a quick wipe down at the end of the night. He was just finishing up the ladies room when Lilly Briggs stepped into it.

"Are you just about done here, Keith?" the older redhead asked as she gestured toward the stalls with a motion of her head.

Lilly Briggs was a forty year old divorcee whose son, Tommy, had gone to grade school with Keith. Five four and a hundred and fifty pounds, Lilly had short curly hair, the color of which was rumored to come from a bottle. Slightly overweight, but no more so than most women her age, she and her husband had separated four years before due to irreconcilable differences. Afterwards, her husband had moved out of state, but Lilly had elected to stay in the neighborhood she had grown up in. Doing so, however, had made her a bit of a pariah among the wives, especially given her post-marriage propensity to associate with what some considered an inappropriate number of men - an association that some even took to mean she couldn't be trusted around their husbands. A concern that might have said more about a lack of trust in their spouses than any perceived lack of morals on Lilly's part, but they didn't see it that way.

Prior to coming to work at Burger Barn, Keith had only met Lilly a few times, as he and Tommy Briggs hadn't been close friends. In fact, he rarely saw the lanky six-footer once they'd gone off to different high schools. When he'd been introduced to the staff, Keith hadn't even recognized her, or she him, and only after hearing her mention her son's name did he realize who she was. It was when he reintroduced himself that he learned that his onetime friend had enlisted in the Army after high school and was now stationed in Germany.

"Just about finished, Mrs. Briggs," Keith said as he wiped down the last of the sinks.

"Again with the Mrs. Briggs," Lilly said, a slight annoyance in her tone. "You're eighteen, Keith, you can call me Lilly."

Keith just smiled and said he would try and remember. He had no problem calling any of the other older employees by their first names, but seemed to find himself constantly falling back on Mrs. Briggs when he addressed Lilly. A consequence, he assumed, of having once known her in a context outside of Burger Barn.

"Good, I need to take care of business before everyone else goes home," Lilly said as she headed for one of the stalls. "Although I don't expect the rest of the night to be busy enough that one of us wouldn't be able to take a break if need be."