Nick’s eyebrow cocks. “Where are we going?”
I point down the street towards Tom’s flickering neon sign. “They’ve got a first aid kit. Brenda will get you fixed up in a jiffy.”
He follows me without question, which is sort of terrifying if you think about it. He sure is trusting. I could be luring him to an untimely demise and I get the feeling he wouldn’t even blink.
“That’s a horrible thing to think, Tommy.”
Oh, so now you’re talking to me?
No response.
The diner’s parking lot is almost deserted, which is odd for a Friday night. I’m not complaining. Especially since Mom is working late in Gainesville, so she wasn’t able to pick up her usual shift.
“Thanks,” Nick mutters as I hold the door open for him.
The chrome interior of Tom’s diner is especially brash tonight. It looks like they cleaned, which I consider to be the first sign of the apocalypse. Next comes the plague of frogs or it rains Firestone tires or whatever.
“Hey, Dot.” I wave to the ancient waitress whose head barely clears the cash register. We used to argue back and forth whether she was at one time, a normal sized person. Decades of slinging trays of hash browns and bacon has left her stooped and surly.
“The hell happened to you?” she asks, peeking her eyes over the counter to spy at Nick.
“I got in a fight with the pavement,” Nick jokes. “Sad to say, I won.”
Dot coughs in response. The grinding in her chest is harrowing. A warning to all those who think smoking is a glamorous decision.
“Brenda!” I call to the back. A yelp sounds, followed by the clatter of metal falling onto the floor.
“Who—huh—what?”
Brenda’s round face materializes in the kitchen window like my very own greasy-haired genie.
“Jesus, Tommy. You woke me up. I was enjoying my mid-shift nap on a sack of potatoes back here.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve brought you a patient.” I lean over the counter, cupping my hands around my mouth to add in a dramatic whisper, “And it’s pretty serious.”
Brenda’s eyes swell to the size of saucers, plump lips curling into a smile. “Let me grab my triage bag.”
Panic drains the color from Nick’s face. “She’s kidding, right?”
“Just take a seat at the counter,” I say, patting one of the torn leather stool tops. My frustration with him has fizzled out at this point. Now I’m just tired. And hungry. And a little nauseous from the fact that Nick’s blood is still on my hand.
Dot’s paper hat follows us over. Her gruff voice comes next, “You gotta order somethin’ if you sit.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Give us a minute to decide what type of food poisoning we want, eh?”
Dot grumbles something about youths and hobbles into the dining room to refill the coffee of the lone patron in the back-corner booth.
The stainless door leading to the kitchen bursts open, Brenda bustling through, strapping on a fresh pair of gloves before slinging a black duffel bag onto the counter. Nick jumps at the thud it makes.
“Show me the carnage,” she commands. He unclenches his fist, a trail of fresh blood trickling down his arm. Brenda rolls her eyes. “Pfft. This is child’s play, Tommy. You had me fantasizing about compound fractures, not booboos that need a Band-Aid and a kiss from mommy. I’ve seen worse cuts from a potato peeler.”
She jerks Nick’s arm straight and he winces. I grab one of the alcohol wipes from the outside pocket of her bag. It burns my nose when I open it.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Nick says, then sucks in a breath as Brenda pours antiseptic onto his palm.
“Don’t worry about it, handsome. If you need something to bite down on, I can get you a stale bun from the back.”
“I’m good.”
After the wound has been cleaned, Brenda wraps Nick’s hand until it’s mummy-riffic then tapes it tight.
“You’ll live,” she tells Nick, handing him another roll of white bandages. “Clean it again tomorrow and rewrap it with this. Then start thinking about the outrageous lie you’re going to tell your friends when they ask about it. My particular favorite is mauled by a marmoset. Crafty little bastards. You never know what they’ll do.”
“When have you ever seen a marmoset?” I ask. I can’t help it. Sometimes I just have to call Brenda on her bullshit.
“You don’t know my life.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod both syllables for emphasis.
“I was thinking a fruit carving contest accident.” Nick grabs a stray butter knife, brandishing it with his good hand. “The shock left me s-peach-less.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brenda moans, her gloves coming off with a snap. “He’s worse than you are, Tommy.”
Before I can assert my pun dominance, Dot interjects, “Are you hooligans ordering something or are you just going to bleed on my counter?”
Brenda comes to the rescue, “I already took their order, Dorothy. Calm your saggy sandbags then pour these two a round of orange juices and go lay back down in your coffin.”
Dot mumbles a curse under her breath, but thankfully she just looks like a witch and all of our appendages remain intact.
“What is it that we ordered?” I whisper to Brenda.
She grins, backing slowly into the kitchen until she disappears behind the wall.
Nick lets out a nervous laugh. “That’s not terrifying.”
Brenda’s face resurfaces in the window, “Pray to your gods now, while you have the chance.”
I really wish you’d talk to me again. It’s weird being alone with my thoughts. 9:38pm
Message Failed. Number not in service. 9:38pm
Nick’s fork clanks when it hits the empty plate. I check my watch. 9:45pm.
“She’s a genius,” he leans over to tell me, the sweet scent of syrup on his breath. “Like, no joke. That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. And I’ve been to two of Gordon Ramsey’s restaurants.”
I toss a napkin on top of my own plate, if only to keep me from licking it clean. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was until Brenda set that pile of deliciousness in front of me. Now I feel satiated if not a little dirty. But that’s par for the course after eating at Tom’s.
“Brava!” Nick applauds as Brenda pokes her face through the window. Thankfully, Tom’s has been empty for the last half hour, so no one is here to witness his shamelessness. Or the pathetic sound a clap makes when your hand is bandaged.
Brenda cups her hand and waves, as if she’s royalty. Then again, she kind of is around here. Queen of Bacon, Eggs, and whatever questionable gray meat they put in Tuesday’s lunch special.
“I think this has been the most fun I’ve had since I got here,” Nick says, lips pulling back into a toothy grin.
I look at him in disbelief. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
“I’m serious!” He turns on his stool and his knee bumps into mine. Not that I notice. “And there’s not enough thank-you’s in the world for the rescue back there with Mel. I legit thought she was going to rip my throat out. God, I can’t imagine what tomorrow is going to be like at work. She’ll probably make me scrape gum off the underside of tables.”
I snicker. “Too late. I did that last Thursday.”
“Oh man, I was just kidding. Did she really make you do that?”
His leg is still touching mine. Does he not feel that?
“Make is a strong word. No one can make me do anything. But I decided doing it was better than the alternative unemployment.”
Nick nods along. I catch myself staring at how the freckles along his hairline make a pattern.
“Either way,” I continue, blinking away the distraction. “You can take solace in the fact that she’ll always hate me more.”
“I’ve kind of noticed. Did you run over her puppy or something?”
I shrug. “Who knows?”
“Girls. am I right?”
He does this w
iggly eyebrow thing at me, like we’re both in on the same joke. But that’s not the case, so I grab the check from the counter before he can notice how clueless I look.
“I’ll get yours,” he says, grabbing the paper.
I hold firm. “You don’t have to.”
“No really,” Nick objects. “Let me take it.”
“Let. Go.”
He releases my ticket, brow dropping in confusion. “What’s the big deal, Tommy? It’s like, eight bucks.”
“How about you mind your fucking business?”
Hands go up again, like my words are chambers loaded, ready to kill. “Whoa, easy, dude. I was just trying to be nice.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pull out a crumpled bill, slamming it down by the register. Dot, who had dozed off twenty minutes ago jolts to attention.
“Hell’s bells, Tommy. You scared the sh—”
“Keep the change.” My cheeks are a nuclear reactor seconds away from meltdown.
Nick is beside me, bad hand fumbling his apron. “Hang on a sec, Tommy. I’ll walk you home.”
“Don’t bother.”
“But—hey!”
I don’t hear what else he’s trying to tell me because I’m out the door. I hurry onto the sidewalk so Nick won’t have a chance to catch up. Anger simmers in my stomach, settling on top of the already heavy dinner.
The street lights cast pockets of light from above, dotting the sidewalk back to my apartment. I leap into one of the pools, the amber glow transforming my skin. I take a step, hopping into the next patch of light, just like you used to do, like I’m skipping over the smooth rocks of the Chattahoochee, crossing the dark river of cement.
I wonder if you ever looked as ridiculous as I do now. Not that I would have noticed.
I shouldn’t have reacted that way at Tom’s. Nick was only trying to be nice. Which is weird, now that I stop to think about it. I mean, sure, I saved him from an awkward situation with Mel, but a simple ‘thanks’ would have been enough. So, what’s his deal?
Mom’s parking spot is vacant as I pass, reminding me she’s working late. Then tomorrow she’ll be back at Tom’s because she can’t seem to let go of the place. It’s a miracle she has the energy.
It’s a miracle she’s alive at all.
The stairs groan as I scale them. Our apartment is quiet as I lock the door behind me, tossing my keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. A two-thousand-piece puzzle—Mom’s guilty pleasure—has taken over the table at some point. How she’s managed to find time to complete the exterior edges, I have no idea.
I pick up the lid of the box, marveling at the deep blue misty mountains that blend into the dawning sun. Piles of pieces cover the table, separated by color. It’s a masterpiece shredded into thousands of jagged little slivers.
“Just like your mom.”
I shiver at the sound of your voice. Setting the box back on the bench, I take a seat in her chair and start sorting through the orange pieces.
“My phone is beyond toast.”
I hold up the shattered remains of my beautiful child.
Reese sucks a breath through her teeth, then leans closer to her screen until it’s just big green eyes staring at me. “Jesus, did you fall off a cliff? Did you use it to beat a bear to death? Did you try to look up a picture of Michael Phelps and his big ugly gorilla face disintegrated it like a snap from Daddy Thanos himself?”
“Jesus, Reese. How do you really feel?” I lean back in my desk chair, “I fell. On my ass. It was in my back pocket.”
“Damn. I told you to stop doing so many squats, Nicky! The world isn’t ready for an ass that powerful! Now the feds are going to show up and take it into custody to use for their own nefarious deeds.”
“Are you done, now?”
Reese snickers. “I suppose so.”
“Good. Now maybe you can help me figure out what to do. My dad is going to launch me into the sun if he hears I broke another phone. What are my options?”
“Why don’t you just buy one?”
“I think they may notice if I drop $800.00 on a new phone.”
“I meant with the money from your job, smarty pants.”
“Reese, I make minimum wage. It will take me all summer to save up that kind of cash.”
“Well, how much do you have now?”
I pull out my wallet, rummaging through. “Like… $100.00 in cash. Probably $150.00 on my debit card. Oh, and a gift card to Popcorn Haven.”
“That’s very helpful. If nothing else, you can get me some of that pickle flavored popcorn.”
“You’re so gross.”
“Focus, Nicky. I’m about to save your well-shaped ass. The answer is simple. Go get a burner phone.”
“A what?”
“Jesus, you need to watch more Law & Order. A prepaid phone. You can forward your calls and texts to the new number until you’ve got enough saved up for the replacement.”
“Wait, I can do that?”
“Bless you, sweet summer child. Yes. Look, just get the phone. Call me tomorrow night and we’ll get everything set up.”
“What would I do without you, Reese?”
“Probably be a decent human being. Who wants that?” She blows a kiss and the video goes black.
I spent the night puzzling, instead of preparing for the shit-storm that likely awaits me at Claudine’s this morning. I’m sure Mel will obliterate me the moment I step inside. Instant vaporizing. POOF! On the off chance she doesn’t, the sporadic anger I harbor for Nick may goad me into a fist fight I’m sure to lose.
Either way, today’s outlook is bleak.
Rain bounces off my umbrella as I walk. It’s like Hester is mourning for me.
“Hey T-man,” Rod greets me outside the shop, ducking under the awning. His truck is covered in mud. He doesn’t look much better. Dark circles cradle his eyes. His apron is spattered with yesterday’s stains.
“How’s it going?” I ask him, in no hurry to arrive at my own execution.
“Stellar.”
Rod pulls open the door, holding it for me. Guess there’s no delaying the inevitable. It’s time to face my certain doom. What are the odds Tina and I will end up haunting the same apron? At that point, is it considered a curse? Would we have to work out a timeshare?
Claudine’s is quiet. The chairs are propped on top of the tables. Soft music plays over the speakers. Absolutely nothing is on fire. Mel stands behind the till, quietly counting to herself. She pauses to look up and I flinch.
“Good morning,” she says, then goes right back to counting dimes.
“Good morning,” I respond, flinching again as she lifts her arm, expecting her to hurl something at me. But she just scratches the back of her head and I make it to the counter unscathed and the morning seems to be off to a benign start.
Rod stocks up the cups while I gather the equipment for the barista station.
Nick makes it in just before we open, his hand wrapped in fresh white bandages.
“Morning,” he calls to the three of us.
Crickets.
“Trash cans are waiting out back,” Mel finally says, closing the register drawer. “They need to be scrubbed, inside and out. Get to it.”
“But it’s raining.”
“So, your job will be that much easier. Have fun.”
Nick sighs, looking to me. I preoccupy myself assembling a carafe. I’ve already helped you enough, dude. He trudges down the hallway to his punishment for scorning Mel.
“Tommy, you’re on orders while I run to the bank. Try not to burn the place down.”
“Got it.” I take over Mel’s spot and she tucks the bag of cash under her arm, ducking under the counter.
She grabs the obnoxious pink umbrella by the door, then ventures out into the rain. Rod lets out a sigh as the door closes, propping himself on the counter. “I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave.”
“Gross.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, come on, T-man. You can’t deny that under all of that crazy, there’s a bossy, condescending, narcissistic, tempestuous, twisted, malevolent… I’ve kinda forgot where I was going with that. She’s hot. I think that’s where I wanted to end up.”
I busy myself with organizing sleeves of paper cups. “If you say so, Rod.”
“And that tension,” he continues, speaking more to himself than to me. “Between her and Nick? Looks like I may have a shot after all.”
“Especially after last night.”
It comes out before I can stop myself.
“Wait, what happened last night?” Rod is glued to my side, espresso eyes bright with possibilities.
“Easy, Fido. Don’t pee on the floor.”
He takes a step back, but not far enough I can’t tell he’s vibrating with excitement. I’m at a loss as to how anyone can be this enthusiastic about anything. Then again, you always near pissed yourself when a new volume of Walking Dead hit the shelves. Maybe I’m just a passionless person?
“You know something,” Rod accuses me with his tone. “What is it? Did he make a move on her? Does he already have a girlfriend? Was Sheila’s out of Rum Raisin? Because after all the ice cream I’ve bought Mel, I was expecting there to at least be a cup of it this morning when I came—”
“Too many questions,” I cut him off. His manic energy is pouring fuel on the fires of my anxiety. “Maybe let’s settle on one?”
He nods, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What do you know?”
“Nick’s not interested in her.”
Rod exhales. “You’re sure?”
“Does seeing him nearly push her back on her ass after she kissed him count as sure?”
“I would say that’s pretty damn sure.”
“Then I’m sure.”
Rod leaps into the air, clicking his heels together mid-jump. “Hell yeah!”
The display of exuberance and honest athletic talent leaves me speechless.
Rod’s cheeks darken as he pulls off his hat. “Sorry. That’s just really good news.”
Or horrible news. I get the feeling Rod may be more in love with the idea of Mel than the actual train wreck of a person. But who am I to judge? The only person I’ve ever had feels for dro—
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