Secrets and Fries at the Starlight Diner

by Helen Cox

  ‘Everybody except Ryan.’

  I paused for a second and then shrugged. ‘Kinda hypocritical but I sorta can’t blame him.’

  ‘Oh, shh. He’s coming back.’ Angela started talking, with deep enthusiasm, out of nowhere: ‘Yeah, Ryan is a fire fighter over in England. Pretty cool, huh?’

  ‘Oh you’re not talking about that again are you? It’s getting embarrassing,’ said Ryan, handing Angela a glass of sparkling wine. Despite his words, he didn’t look embarrassed at all, and added, ‘Everywhere we go she tells people what I do.’

  I looked at Mona, who had a sly smile on her face, and then over at Angela. She raised a mischievous eyebrow at me. So this was the cover story she used whenever she fancied a quick girly chat about her boyfriend.

  ‘Well, I can’t say I blame her. If I had a boyfriend and he was a fire fighter, that would probably be the first thing I’d mention too. It’s very noble,’ I said, playing along.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Angela frowned. ‘Have I got this wrong or don’t you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘What?’ I shook my head. ‘That’s news to me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Angela took a sip of her wine and glared at Mona, who was obviously her source. ‘Sorry, I thought I heard something about you and Jimmy Boyle. I must’ve got mixed up.’

  Mona folded her arms and cocked her head, her eyes fixed on me as she waited to see how I was going to field this comment.

  ‘Oh, I… Er, no.’ I could feel the red blotches rising on my neck even as I spoke. I hadn’t expected the gossip mill to churn quite that fast around here. I had to stop it in its tracks. If Jimmy heard people talking like that he was sure to go nuts – well, if the way he’d reacted after that kiss we shared was anything to go by. ‘I just asked him to the party is all, because he gave me a place to stay the first night in New York.’

  ‘Well, he’s not our favourite person,’ Ryan said looking between me and Angela, ‘but credit where it’s due, he did help you out when you needed it, even though he knew you were friends with Esther, and he’s not a fan of her or Jack.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Angela said. ‘He did some awful things to the people I care about but he did help you when he didn’t have to. Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I tried to smile but I was so far past knowing what to think about Jimmy that it was difficult right then. ‘To be honest, I don’t know if he’s even going to show.’

  ‘If who’s going to show?’ Jimmy said, just off to my right. Oh my God, that was just typical. I’d been half-watching the door for the past hour, had taken my eye off the ball for just a minute and he’d sneaked in at the most inconvenient moment.

  I turned to face him. He was freshly shaven and his blonde hair fell in soft layers about his face. He’d dressed casual, in a pair of jeans and a long white shirt, but I noticed he hadn’t been able to resist smartening it up with a black jacket that was cut close around his body.

  ‘Uh, we were just talking about…’ I looked at Mona.

  ‘Alan,’ she finished for me. ‘I believe you’ve met my husband?’ she said to Jimmy with a smirk.

  He kept his face level, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from flinching at Mona’s words. Why the hell would Jimmy cringe like that at the mention of Mona’s husband? ‘He’s real late and we were just deciding whether or not he was going to show up,’ Mona continued.

  ‘I see,’ Jimmy said. He wasn’t fooled by that story even for a second, but he was decent enough not to call us out on it and embarrass me any further.

  ‘You’re just in time for my set,’ I said to him. ‘I’m going on in a few minutes. But come on, we’ve got time to grab you a beer.’ I pointed my head in the direction of the liquor stash, turned and started walking towards it. I glanced back to check Jimmy was following me through the small crowd and he was, just a few steps behind.

  I was sort of glad he hadn’t got all dressed up like Ryan and Angela. I only had a few outfits in my suitcase and didn’t have the finances to shop for anything new for tonight. I had on my deep purple sweater dress, tied with a thin patent leather belt around the middle. It looked kinda psychedelic next to my blue hair and green Doc Martin boots but I liked that. In my early twenties I’d spent all my time dressed up like a silhouette because I’d been told that black was slimming. These odd combinations of colour were part of the new Bonnie. I figured that if you’re going to start on a new track why not start by bringing some colour into the lives of other people?

  Once we were up at the counter, I turned to Jimmy. ‘OK, what’s your poison?’

  ‘I’ll just take a bottle of Budweiser, thanks,’ he said. I handed him a beer. He looked at it a moment and then up at me. ‘Look, Blue, I came to hear you play a couple of songs but I still get the feeling I’d be better off elsewhere tonight, so don’t take it so hard if I’m not here when you finish your set, OK?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, pressing my lips hard together.

  ‘Don’t look like that, please, I can’t stand it,’ he said, looking into my eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’m godawful at hiding how I feel about things, always have been.’

  ‘You’re an honest woman, that’s why, and there ain’t nothing wrong with that, I can tell you,’ he said, smiling the softest smile I’d ever seen from him.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Feels like a curse to me. A regular girl would’ve been able to play it cool with a guy she’d met all of three times in her life who said he was going to leave a party early.’ I tried to smile.

  ‘Well, who says being regular’s so great? Maybe you’re better suited to being irregular. Anyway, my leaving early’s got nothing to do with you,’ he said, edging closer.

  ‘Really? Because I’ve been told that the reason I’m being knocked back has nothing to do with me a few times now and it’s getting pretty hard not to take it personal.’

  ‘Do I seem like the type of fella to sugarcoat things for you?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘So just believe me when I tell you that this isn’t about you.’ Jimmy looked deep into my eyes as he spoke. They were so intense, fierce in the kind of way that makes your heart beat faster and your palms begin to clam up. Oh, why did we have to do this dance? Why couldn’t he just be kissing me already?

  ‘If it was about me, I guess it’d be understandable.’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘You probably think I’m nuts.’

  ‘Well, maybe a little.’ The skin across Jimmy’s forehead crinkled. ‘But you’re also a person who’s in such a messed-up situation you don’t feel there’s anybody you can trust. That, I know something about.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yeah, but don’t ask me about that. Not tonight.’

  ‘Right. New Year’s Eve. The most depressing night ever.’ I nodded, trying to disguise a hard swallow as our faces drifted an inch or two closer.

  ‘Pretty much. Although, I’ll grant you, this one is looking a lot better than it was even just a few minutes ago,’ he said, looking at my face as though memorising every inch of it. ‘And I guess it would be a shame to miss out on the only good thing about New Year.’

  ‘Oh? And what’s that?’ I said, locking eyes with him.

  ‘The kissing,’ he said. Our mouths were not even an inch apart. I closed my eyes, goosebumps surfacing at the thought of his soft, warm tongue rolling over mine. I felt the heat of his breath on my lips. And then… a microphone squealed loud enough to splinter every eardrum in the room. I winced and opened my eyes to see Jimmy doing the same, looking towards the disturbance. Bernie had a microphone in hand and was standing on the stage.

  ‘Right, I’ve had just about enough of MC What’s-his-face for one evening,’ Bernie grimaced. ‘It’s time we had some real music and tonight we’ve got an act direct from Atlantic City. She specialises in playing music from the sixties era and has prepared a special set for us. Please put your hands together and show your appreciation for Miss Bonnie Brooks.’ The cro
wd started to clap and whistle, and though there wasn’t a lot of them they sure were loud. I looked back at Jimmy; both of us were breathing hard but I had to get up there and do my set.

  ‘Don’t you dare leave till I come down off that stage,’ I told him.

  ‘I’ll do my very best to still be here,’ he said.

  Wishing he could give me something a little more concrete than that, I turned and walked towards where Bernie was standing. He hobbled past me as I snatched up my guitar before ascending the couple of steps up onto a small makeshift stage, which was as rickety as I felt just then. I lifted the guitar strap over my head and adjusted the microphone.

  ‘OK, hi, y’all,’ I said, shifting gear as I always did when I had a guitar in my hand. The audience whooped in response. ‘The obvious starting point for a set of sixties music is a Beatles track, so I want to see you all shouting the words along with me. I know you know them.’ I strummed the opening chords on my guitar and began to sing ‘Twist & Shout’. Course, ‘Twist & Shout’ wasn’t really a Beatles track at all, but the Beatles sang it better than the Top Notes and it’s not like anyone in the room gave a damn. They just wanted to party.

  Within seconds the dance floor erupted into a frenzy of pretty shocking attempts to dance in the Sixties style. I mean, I’d seen some of this back in Atlantic City, but a lot of the time the people were too drunk on the over-generous liquor measurements – designed to make them pour every last cent they had into the slots – to properly shake down. This was the first time in a long time I’d played a room that was actually sober enough to really move. The results were a little on the disturbing side but, like most performers, all I was really interested in was whether or not people were having a good time, and it was clear they were.

  Changing chords for the chorus, I looked over to check Jimmy was still in attendance, which he was. He was leaning up against the counter. His eyes looked me up and down as I sang and strummed away. I couldn’t help but smile, even though that didn’t always make for the best sound coming out of my mouth mid-song. The fact he’d made me smile on stage brought a grin to his face but I had to look away after that. It was too hard to concentrate on playing otherwise. Too many thoughts about what might happen when I got off stage were swimming in my head.

  So instead, I looked out to the crowd where I saw Jack twirling Esther around and around to the beat. Walt, the older fella who I’d met the other day, was standing on the edges of the throng, clapping in time to the beat. Ryan and Angela were in each other’s arms, swaying along and looking deep into each other’s eyes, and Jean was dancing with Lucia, who had finally arrived and was wearing a ruby-red dress with a white faux fur shawl. Bernie was standing at the back looking as miserable as ever, watching everyone else have a good time. And Mona…

  Mona was talking to Alan, who had finally arrived. He was wearing his police uniform and talking fast to his wife, who was probably ticked off at him for turning up so late. At least I thought that was what they were discussing, until they both turned and looked up at me on the stage. Mona’s face was painted with a vague look of horror; Alan’s was tensed with a problem I didn’t yet understand. He looked across the room and waved two fingers in the air. I followed his gaze and noticed two other cops in the room. All three of them were heading towards the stage, towards me.

  I forced my mouth to keep forming the words, pushed my vocal chords to chime out the notes, but inside my heart thundered in my chest.

  They were coming for me.

  Oh, Bonnie, you should’ve left this place already. You weren’t paranoid, you were right. Frankie does have cops in New York City – and Alan is one of them.

  I don’t know how I kept singing. It got to the point that I wasn’t even sure I was singing the right words but I kept opening my mouth and letting the sound out, praying that I was wrong, that perhaps the cops were just here for the party and were pushing their way down to the front because they were big Beatles fans. I almost managed to con myself into believing this, just because it was easier than admitting the truth, but I could only fool myself for the length of time it took them to reach the bottom of the stage. Then I stopped playing. The crowd moaned and booed, until they also realised there were cops in the room. Then the place went quiet. The squealing feedback from the mic was the only sound.

  ‘You gonna come quietly?’ Alan at last said.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I said over the microphone without meaning to.

  ‘Hey now, what’s goin’ on here?’ asked Jimmy, who’d pushed his way through to where Alan was standing.

  ‘This is police business, Mr Boyle, you’re going to have to stay out of this,’ Alan said in a firm voice.

  ‘What’s police business?’ I asked, my eyes getting wider by the second.

  ‘A warrant for your arrest was posted to every precinct in New York,’ Alan explained. ‘I didn’t recognise you at first, your hair was different in the picture we were given. But when I saw you in here the other day, I knew you looked familiar.’

  ‘I don’t understand, my arrest for what? What crime?’

  ‘Murder,’ Alan said. The word was murmured from person to person, right to the back of the room, and once the message had rippled through the crowd, even though I didn’t think it possible, the room got even quieter.

  I looked at Jimmy and shook my head.

  ‘I haven’t murdered anybody…’ I started, but stopped myself. If Alan was in Frankie’s pocket I absolutely could not reveal everything I knew. Last time I’d tried to explain what I knew to a cop answering to Frankie, things hadn’t ended well. I needed to keep my cool long enough to get to someone who Frankie hadn’t got to first.

  ‘Alan, there must be some mistake,’ said Esther, who’d also pushed her way to the front. She said the words, I was thankful for that, but I couldn’t tell if she believed them or if she just wanted this to be a mistake.

  ‘Well, there certainly ain’t no mistake on the warrant. It’s for the arrest of Bonnie Brooks. A police officer saw her running from a murder scene directly after a man was shot down in cold blood in Atlantic City.’

  Esther and Jimmy, who were now standing side by side, looked at each other, and then back at me.

  ‘Bonnie Brooks,’ Alan began, getting out a set of handcuffs and stepped up onto the stage. ‘You’re under arrest. Turn around please.’ I thought about running, you bet I did, but there was no way out of this. Even if I did manage to shove my way out through a crowd of fifty people, every cop in New York had my photograph. How did I know if that was even limited to New York City? My face could be pinned up in every police station in the county. Sooner or later, all this was going to catch up with me and I’d bet good money it would happen before I found my safe, imaginary cop over in California.

  Closing my eyes, unable to look at the disapproving faces of the people around me, I did as Alan asked. A heavy click sounded out as the cuffs clamped themselves around my wrist, and at that very final sound, a single tear slid down my cheek.

  Chapter Ten

  Slumped in the cell Mona’s husband had locked me in at the 34th Street precinct, I heard footsteps echoing down the hall. Slowly, I stood up from the wooden bench attached to the wall and tried to straighten myself up. Without a mirror there was little I could do to make myself more presentable, so I just tucked my hair behind my ears and pulled on the hem of my purple sweater dress to smooth out the wrinkles in it.

  Moments later, Alan was standing in front of the bars, looking in at me with an unfeeling stare, and behind him, still in their party clothes, were Esther and Jimmy. I lowered my head. This no doubt made me look even guiltier but I wasn’t in an emotional space to make eye contact with any of them.

  As far as things went with Alan, the guy was either clean and thought I was guilty, or he was dirty and knew I was innocent. Either way, I didn’t want to look at him. When it came to Esther and Jimmy, they were the two people in the world who, up until now, I’d felt were on my side. If I
looked at them and saw even a hint of doubt in their eyes I didn’t know what I’d do. Especially after what’d just happened with my legal aid attorney, Ms Elise Lange. She was supposed to be on my side, but she hadn’t shown much sign of it during our interview.

  ‘You’ve got some visitors,’ said Alan. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’m just down the hall if anything comes up.’ He said this to Esther but gave me one last eyeballing before turning on his heel and marching back off down the corridor again.

  Course, if Alan was in Frankie’s pocket then maybe that look was all just part of the act. Maybe he knew I was innocent and was just doing what he was told to plant the blame on me. If that was the case, if the truth I had to tell couldn’t change his tune, then I was in real trouble. Esther, Jack, Bernie, and even Jimmy, from what I could see, trusted that Alan was one of the good guys. They didn’t even suspect that he might’ve been bought, and if it was a choice between trusting me and trusting Alan, I was pretty sure I knew who they’d pick.

  As Alan’s footsteps faded away, I forced my stare upwards from the grey floor tiles to meet Esther’s eyes, which were sad but steady. Next, my gaze flitted over to Jimmy, who had an angrier look about him.

  ‘Oh my God.’ I put a hand across my forehead. ‘This is just the worst.’

  Jimmy and Esther looked at each other, and then Esther said, ‘Whatever’s going on, I’m sure we’ll figure something out. But Bonnie…’ She stepped closer to the cell. ‘You’re going to have to tell us what’s going on here.’

  I took a deep breath and rested my hands on the bars.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jimmy said, speaking at last and moving nearer to join me and Esther, ‘I figured you owed money or something. That maybe you’d skipped out on some bad debt, but I never figured it had anything to do with a murder, Blue.’

  ‘I know.’ I closed my eyes for a second and then, on opening them, I said, ‘But you have to believe me, I didn’t know about that warrant for my arrest. I didn’t know about any of this. A cop called Larry Harris has made a statement saying he saw me run from the scene with a gun in my hand. Well, I don’t own a gun. But I did run from an alley where a man was shot. Not because I committed the murder, but because I witnessed it.’