Coney Island Chicken Short Story

Every chance she had, Lelia found herself at the counter, perched on the red, leather-covered stool, her feet resting on the blackened, steel runner. The excitement she felt dancing around her heart, had a life all its own as she waited for Sam, or her other friends to eventually come in.
Commonly ordering the same thing, Lelia’s demonstrative voice would murmured, “Coney Island Chicken, please,” a hot dog, for those not familiar with the soda fountain slang. Lelia’s eyelashes fluttered in Danny’s direction, knowing full well he would only charge her four cents instead of the actual cost of a nickel. A full year younger than Lelia, this was Danny’s first job, other than the struggles he had withstood on the lobster boat with his dad. No words could explain how much he loved working behind the counter, serving up ice cream and hot dogs, instead of stinking of fish bait.
Despite the fact that Danny remained diligent at his job; taking the food orders from the folks at
Annoyed, she decided to head for home.
To soothe her perturbed feelings, Lelia hoped Sylvia would be home sitting on her front porch across the street from her house. Perhaps the two of them could fool around, playing their made-up-gossip-game; maybe regarding Owen.
Sylvia and Lelia had conjured up the game way back when they were kids. The two friends, making up stories about people they scarcely knew, always filling in the gaps with madcap guess work and enchanted mystery.
Now thinking about the game, not Sam, Lelia thought it would be only fitting the game evolve around Owen Bauer, that new cute guy working at the First National. After all, Mr. Owen Bauer was not a local, he was a stranger in town. She giggled to herself, thinking of him being called “Mister”. When leaving the Five and Dime, stepping out onto the sidewalk, Lelia stepped right on the foot of the man she had just been giving thought to, Mr. Owen