Taking a deep breath through her nose, she sucked in her cheeks. “But the salmon is delicious.”
“Mmm. It is delicious, Barb,” Allen said. Suck up.
“And the wine is great. What is this wine, Dad?” Jacks asked.
“It’s—”
“Salmon is good for the heart. Isn’t that right, darling?” she asked my father. Well, since he was a podiatrist, he should know.
“Yes, dear, it is,” he said, before lapsing into silence.
“Did you hear that, Rosalyn?”
“Yes, I heard. Salmon — it’s all the rage with the kids these days.”
Barbara set her fork on the side of her plate. “Why must you be so contrary?”
“She hates salmon. She said that the last time she was here, Grandma,” Scotty said. “And I don’t like it either.”
I bit my lip to smother a grin.
My mother picked up her fork and continued to eat. She didn’t say another word.
I winked at Scotty. He smiled back. Darn, that kid was cute.
“So,” Jacks said with a little too much enthusiasm. “How’s school, Rose? You’re taking ethics now, right?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but wasn’t quick enough.
“Are you concerned about the ethics of serving your customers heart attacks along with their biscuits and gravy?” my mother asked. Each word was a bullet shot through a tight smile. “So useful, these little classes.”
Wow, Jacks was really crappy at defusing. I pierced a carrot. “You’re right as usual, Mom.”
No one said much after that, and only the clinking of silverware broke the uncomfortable silence. The tension was almost painful.
Eventually the torture came to an end. My mother, Jacks, and I cleared the table while Scotty went back to his video game. Allen and my dad retired to the media room to watch TV.
“Rosalyn?”
“Yes, Mom?” I grinned, baring my teeth.
She held a glass in one hand and a dirty plate in the other. “Why don’t you go relax? After all, you clean tables for a living. I’m sure you don’t want to do it on your off hours, too.”
“Don’t be silly. Since I’m a pro, it will go that much quicker if I help.”
Jacks’ nervous gaze shifted between my mom and me. “Why don’t you both go relax? I can do it.” She hurried into the kitchen.
As we cleaned up, my mother chatted with Jacks, freezing me out entirely. She considered this a punishment. I considered it a reprieve.
After we filled the dishwasher, Jacks left the kitchen with the sorry excuse she needed to check on Scotty while my mother and I stood in silence.
“Did you get the phone numbers for Mary and Packard?” I finally asked.
She raised her chin in the air and stared at me with her lips pursed before walking to the small desk attached to the countertop. She pulled a piece of paper from the top drawer. “I want you to know that I’m doing this against my better judgment. You can’t hound these people.”
“Darn, hounding and grain alcohol are all I have going for me.” I took the paper. It had Mary’s new married name, her address and phone number, as well as Packard’s number and address.
She acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Packard is very busy. He’s on the city council, you know.”
“So?”
“There’s talk of him running for mayor.”
“And?”
She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. “Axton is nothing but trouble, and why you continue to be friends with him is beyond me. He ruined my birthday party with his drugs.”
Ah, the infamous country club fire alarm incident where Ax toked up in the bathroom. “That was four years ago. Seriously, when are you going to let it go?” My guess was never.
“Furthermore, Packard doesn’t need some drugged up relative causing him problems.”
My turn to ignore. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, waving the paper. I almost made it to the stairs when her voice stopped me.
“Why can’t you just for once do what is expected of you?”
I turned to face her. “What exactly is expected of me in this situation, Mom?”
“He’s probably somewhere getting high. Just stay out of it. It doesn’t concern you. You’d be better off trying to get a good job and make some decent friends.”
I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath. “Axton is decent. He’s the sweetest, kindest, most generous person I know, and he’s in trouble.” I stepped forward and lowered my voice. “And I like my job, thank you. Just because you were too good—”
She made a slashing motion with one hand. “As far as I can see, you’ve had a pretty good life. We gave you the best of everything so you could make something of yourself, but you’re throwing it away with both hands.”
I rubbed my eyes. We’d had this conversation a million times. We could have it again tonight, but it wouldn’t change anything.
I turned and left the kitchen, made hasty farewells to my dad and Allen, gave Scotty a kiss on the head, and promised my sister I’d call later in the week.
My mother stood on the front step, her arms crossed, and watched me drive away. I felt unsettled, sad and angry at the same time.
But in a way, she was right. Although I’d rather stick a shrimp fork in my eye than admit it to her. Lately, I felt like life was passing me by. I’d been coasting.
I diddled my time away, taking classes like Film Appreciation and Sex Throughout History for the past five years without any direction whatsoever. I couldn’t decide what to do with my life, and it scared me I might never figure it out.
I blew out a breath. What I needed was action, not introspection. I wasn’t going to find Axton by driving around feeling sorry for myself.
I pulled into a Quickie Mart and asked for directions.
Packard Graystone lived on the outskirts of Huntingford in a development so new half the houses were under construction. Silhouettes of backhoes and earthmovers, their jagged claws hovering in the air, bordered the neighborhood. I got lost driving down partially finished streets that led to nowhere. Kind of like my life.
The luxury homes all looked the same in the dark. Cookie cutter housing for the professional set. I finally found Packard’s house — two chimneys, two bay windows, and a four car garage — in the middle of a cul-de-sac. A white SUV sat in the driveway and most of the lights were shining from inside the house.
I grabbed my purse and keys, marched up to the front door, and knocked. Axton’s niece or nephew — I couldn’t tell which because it had one of those floppy haircuts and long eyelashes — answered.
“We don’t want any,” he/she said and started to close the door.
I wedged my foot in the gap. “Get your dad, kid.” Ax never talked about his brother or this kid. Axton was on the outs with this family, even more so than I was with mine. But it was going to drive me batty. Was this kid a boy or girl?
The child looked at me, then my foot, and proceeded to yell at the top of its lungs, “Dad!”
Packard walked toward the door, wiping his hands on a green and white plaid dishcloth. He resembled Axton, but where Axton was small and scrawny, Packard was taller, beefier, and almost fifteen years older. The wiry blond hair was obviously a family trait, but Packard wore his short and full of hair product.
“May I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Rose Strickland.” I waited, but there was no look of recognition on his face. “I’m a friend of Axton’s.”
“Jordan,” he said to the kid, “go finish your homework.”
Darn, I still didn’t know if that kid was a boy or a girl. Jordan could be used for both, right?
When the kid zoomed out of sight, Packard narrowed his cold blue eyes. “Listen,” he pointed a finger at me. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but that little shit has nothing to do with me.”
Chapter 10
My mouth hung open a second before I snapped it shut. “When you say ‘little shit’ are you ref
erring to Ax?”
“That’s right.”
His brotherly concern was underwhelming. “Axton is missing. Like really missing. I’m filing a police report tonight because it’s been forty-eight hours. He’s in trouble, Packard.”
He threw the dish towel over his shoulder and rubbed his forehead. “Is it a drug thing?”
“No, and he’s not really into anything but pot.”
“Hey,” he said, “pot is a drug. It’s an illegal substance.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Packard was working my last nerve. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but this isn’t a drug thing.” I peered over Packard’s shoulder as a tiny woman walked up behind him.
“Pack, what’s going on? Who is this?” she gestured in my direction. Her brows drew together over light brown eyes.
“She says she’s a friend of Axton’s.”
I smiled and held out my hand. “Hello, my name is Rose.”
She stared at my hand a moment before shaking it. “Hello, Rose. Where’s Axton? Is he with you?”
“She—” Packard started.
“He’s missing,” I said, “and I’m very worried about him.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Sheila, I don’t want to get involved in this.”
She gently shoved him aside and opened the door wider. “You are involved, Pack. He’s your brother.”
I stepped into the house.
“Thanks,” I said, leaving Packard standing by the door. The faint scent of dinner lingered, leaving a garlicky smell behind. Whatever they had, it was better than salmon.
The foyer walls were decorated in soft earth tones and rose into cove ceilings. The wrought iron banister on my right twisted toward the second story.
“As you heard, I’m Sheila.” She walked further into the house. “This way.”
I followed her to the homey kitchen. Copper pans hung on a rack above the island range. Hot pads and a newspaper lay on the granite counter.
Sheila grabbed a mug from the cabinet next to the sink and poured me a cup of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”
“Yes to both, please.” I heard Packard walk in behind me.
“You’d better sit down,” he said.
It was a half-assed invitation, but I took it and hopped up on one of the stools at the island. Sheila passed me the mug and I took a sip. “I take it you haven’t heard from Axton?”
Packard grabbed a stool next to me and Shelia leaned against the sink. There was a long pause. “Actually, he did call me a couple of nights ago,” he said.
“Monday night?”
“Yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively.
My stomach fluttered. “Is he all right? What did he say? Where is he?”
Packard held up a finger. “First of all, I could hardly hear him. And second, he never said where he was.”
“Did he call from his cell?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” He shrugged a beefy shoulder.
“You didn’t tell me Axton called,” Sheila said. “What exactly is going on here, Pack?”
“I didn’t tell you because this isn’t our concern, Sheila.”
“What did he say?” I wanted to beat this guy like a piñata until he spilled all the information he knew.
“He said he needed help. I assumed it was financial and told him no. Either that or he was arrested again. Then we were disconnected. I assumed he hung up.”
“You do a lot of assuming, Packard,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything else? Background noises, other voices?”
“God,” he snapped, “I already told you no. I didn’t hear anything else. It was a ten second phone call.”
Sheila crossed her arms. “Again, what is going on?”
I gave them the scoop on Axton’s vanishing act and ended with BJ and Henry breaking into my apartment. When I finished, both Packard and Sheila were silent.
I sipped my coffee and waited.
“He gave you his backpack, but you don’t know why?” Sheila asked.
“The only thing I can figure is there’s something on the computer or the internal hard drive. His boss, Eric, is working on it.”
“And this man who broke into your apartment, he wanted Axton? Did he say why?” Sheila asked.
I thought back to Gold Eyes prowling around my apartment, touching my stuff, making threats. “No, but I need to find Axton before he does.”
“He’s probably a dealer. Axton’s been arrested twice, for God’s sake,” Packard said.
“Oh come on, Pack,” Sheila huffed out a breath, “he was caught with a joint. It’s not like you’ve never done it.”
“Hey,” he pointed a finger at her, “I haven’t made a lifestyle of it.” He was big with the finger pointing.
And okay yes, Ax had been arrested at routine traffic stops last year. Got popped once because of a joint and once with a dime bag.
Since Sheila was the only one who seemed to give a crap, I directed my comment to her. “This isn’t about drugs and Ax always tells me if he’s going somewhere — even if it’s for a couple of days. I really just came by to see if you’d heard from him.” I turned back to Packard. “That’s all he said? You’re not leaving anything out?”
He sighed. “No. Axton and I aren’t exactly close. If there was something wrong, I’d be the last person he’d tell.”
“And yet, he called you.” I set down my mug, picked up my purse, and dug around for a pen and paper. “Thanks for the coffee. If you hear from him again, here’s my home number and my cell.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sheila asked.
“If I think of anything, I’ll call you. I thought I’d give your mom a call, too. See if she’s heard from Ax.”
“Absolutely not. She’s an elderly woman and I won’t have you dragging her into this.”
Sheila sighed. “She’s in the middle of the Mediterranean anyway. Month long cruise.”
Must be nice. “Then I’m off to file a missing person report.”
Packard swiveled toward me and shoved a finger in my face. “Wait a minute, you can’t go to the police with this.”
I wanted to grab his finger and twist it, but I batted it away with the back of my hand instead. “I told you, it’s been forty-eight hours.”
“This can’t get out. The press will be all over it.” I remembered my mother said Packard was thinking of running for mayor. Well, guess who wasn’t getting my vote? I was beginning to understand why Axton didn’t talk to his brother. Packard was an ass.
“Oh my gosh, Pack, I can’t believe you,” Sheila said. “You’ve gone insane, you know that?”
“I have a certain reputation in this town—”
“Maybe so, but he’s your brother,” Sheila said.
The two continued to argue as I ducked out of the kitchen, down the hall, through the front door and back onto the brick stoop. I wondered if they even noticed I left.
My last stop for the night, despite the fact it was after ten o’clock, was the police station. I didn’t care about Packard or his self-aggrandizing reputation, I just needed help looking for Axton.
Unfortunately, I left the police station feeling helpless and dejected. It had been a complete waste of time. I told my story to some bored desk cop who typed it into his computer. I was starting to get the impression the police weren’t that concerned about a missing stoner. But this wasn’t just any stoner we were talking about. This was my missing stoner. Axton. My bud, my rock, my expert on dorky sci-fi movies from the fifties. I missed eating off-brand pizza rolls with him, missed listening to him lecture about the graphics of game design. I missed him translating English words into Klingon. Sa’Hut was his fave. That’s buttocks to you and me. I just missed him, period.
As I drove home, I was hyperaware of other cars on the road — making sure no one followed me. And when I reached my parking lot, it took ten minutes to work up the nerve to run from my car to the building. I didn’t like this feeling, as if someone
was watching me, waiting for me. It was exhausting.
The next morning at the diner, Ma was in bossy mode. “No, Jorge, you need more sugar in the glaze.”
Jorge smiled. “Okay, Ma.”
Ma nodded in satisfaction and moved over by the grill to stand next to Ray. “Are you using too much butter, son?”
Ray grunted.
I pulled an apron around my waist and tied it. Although no unwelcome visitors showed up last night, I still hadn’t gotten much sleep. I tossed and turned and jumped at every little noise while my brain spun in circles over Axton. I was tired and cranky, but I slapped a smile on my face. “Good morning, everyone.”
Jorge waved, Ray mumbled something, and Ma walked over and hugged me. “How you doing this morning, toots?”
“Not so well. I still haven’t heard from Ax, I made a police report last night, and Axton’s brother is an a-hole.”
“I have a feeling things will turn out all right.” She squeezed my shoulder. I wished I shared her optimism.
Roxy walked through the back door and snarled. She chomped on a wad of gum and I noticed she had a nicotine patch on her arm. She wore a skimpy plaid skirt and short-sleeved red sweater. She looked like a crazy Catholic school girl who would kick your ass with her thick-soled combat boots, even after you coughed up your lunch money.
“How’s that patch working for you?” I asked.
“How do you think?” She slammed out of the kitchen.
“Perfectly,” I said to the swinging door.
I worked steadily until around eight, when Dane came into the diner. He looked out of place in his designer suit and leather briefcase. He smiled when he saw me.
“Hey, Rose, you have a minute?”
“Sure.” I filled my customer’s coffee cup, then walked behind the counter. Dane followed. “You’re not staying to eat?”
“No, I have to be in court in an hour. Have you heard from Axton?”
“No, but he called his brother a couple of nights ago asking for help. Then they were disconnected. The same thing happened when he called me.”
“I found out some information on NorthStar Inc.” He pulled a manila envelope out of his briefcase. “It’s a company that owns a few local bars and other small businesses in town.”
Diners, Dives & Dead Ends Page 6