Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

by Terri L. Austin

  “Vandalism.”

  “Is this related to everything else?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He moved back to my side. “You’re going to get this fixed soon, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If it’s a matter of money—”

  “It isn’t. I’ll get it fixed soon.” I gave him a bright smile.

  He nodded. “Okay, let’s go make that report.” He took me by the hand led me into the building. As we walked through the twisting corridors, I felt like a rat in a maze.

  We finally stopped at a small cubicle in the back corner with gray padded walls and a gunmetal gray desk. Andre Thomas, his uniform crisp and starched, took down my story about Henry and BJ and I threw in my vandalized car for good measure.

  “How did you say they got in?” he asked, for what seemed like the millionth time.

  I sighed. Loudly. “I told you, I don’t know. They were already in my apartment when I got home.”

  Officer Thomas had café au lait skin and was handsome in a drill sergeant kind of way. His light hazel eyes stared at me through rectangular glasses. “You’d been to a couple of bars? How much did you have to drink?”

  I threw my hands in the air and glared at him. We’d been at this for over an hour. “I didn’t have anything to drink and I’m not on trial. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I’m just curious why you didn’t report this sooner, Miss Strickland. Seems odd to me. If two men broke into my house, I’d have called the police immediately.”

  “I told you, I didn’t think the police could help me and BJ was pretty specific about not messing with him.”

  He drummed his fingers on the desk. “So why are you reporting it now?”

  Dane leaned forward. “What’s the problem, Andre? She’s telling you what happened.”

  The officer scrutinized me with laser-like intensity. “I’m just trying to get an accurate picture of what occurred.”

  I stood up. “Here’s an accurate picture for you. My friend, Axton Graystone, is missing.” I pointed at him. “I report that and you police people have done nothing about it. I report two men broke into my apartment and they seem to know my every move. I report someone vandalizes my car, but there’s nothing you can do about that, either. And now you’re treating me like the criminal?”

  “Sounds like trouble follows you around, Miss Strickland. Now, sit down, and we’ll go over this again.” He nodded at the chair I’d vacated.

  I shifted my gaze to Dane. “I told you this was a mistake.” I grabbed my purse, haphazardly finding my way out of the labyrinth, wishing I’d left a trail of breadcrumbs to make it easier.

  When I made it outside, I closed my eyes, tilted my face to dark clouds overhead. I took a deep cleansing breath. Sitting in that gray box being interrogated like a career criminal left me a little shaky. Dane came out a minute later. He placed his hand on the small of my back. “Hey,” he said, “I know he’s a hard ass, but he was just doing his job.”

  I opened my eyes and faced him. “I don’t have much faith in the police anymore, Dane.” I gestured toward the building. “This was pointless.” I pulled my keys out of my purse and headed toward my car.

  “Where are you going? We need to go back in there and finish up.”

  “I’m going to find Axton.”

  Chapter 16

  I pulled into the nearest gas station, sat in my car, and scanned through the NorthStar list. I was determined to hit at least one more place today. I wasn’t sure it would lead me to Ax, but it made me feel like I was doing something.

  I had just picked out my next target when my phone rang. It was Jacks. “Yeah?” I was still hurt she lied about going to my parents’ house last night. I knew Jacks hated to be stuck in the middle between my mother and me, but I wish she’d take my side occasionally.

  “Do you want to come over for dinner? I’m making lasagna.”

  My stomach gurgled at the thought. This was her peace offering. And it was a yummy one. “Sure. What time?”

  “Around six. Although you might want to get here early because someone got his Halloween costume.”

  “I did, Aunt Rose,” I heard Scotty yell in the background.

  “Tell him I can’t wait to see him.” I hung up and drove the five miles to Pour Femme, a chichi boutique close to the salon where my mother and Jacks got their hair done. It was full of beautiful dresses and gowns that cost more than I made in six months.

  I walked in and probably still smelled of eau de bacon judging by the wrinkled nose of the woman who approached me. In her early forties, tall and painfully thin, she looked like a chic vampire in her tight black sheath.

  “Yes?” she asked with one brow artfully raised.

  Flashing Axton’s picture around and telling my missing friend sob story had so far gotten me nowhere. Besides, this woman would have tossed Axton’s pot-loving ass out of here in two seconds flat.

  “Hello,” I said with a smile, “I’m here from NorthStar.” I waited for her to either toss me out on my ass or start spilling information.

  She did neither. She inspected me from head to toe, and from her world-weary sigh, I didn’t come up to snuff. “I wish they would send me taller girls.”

  Say what, now?

  “What size are you? Eight?”

  “I’m a four.”

  She propped her chin on the back of her hand and pursed her dark red lips. “Up top you’re maybe a two, but that ass is definitely an eight.”

  “Excuse me?” I puffed out my size-two chest daring her to say more.

  “Come,” she said with a disdainful look on her face and slinked across the store. “Do you need a cocktail dress or a gown?”

  “Cocktail,” I said with confidence.

  “When do you need it?” she asked, thumbing through a rack of short dresses.

  “Now.” Wow, I liked this new brazen me.

  She sighed. “Of course, you need it now. They give me short girls with big asses and they want me to work miracles yesterday.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “That’s enough big ass talk, sister.”

  She didn’t even respond. She pulled three dresses from the rack and shoved them at me. “Try these on.” She stretched out her arm and pointed toward the back of the shop. “In there. Go.”

  I walked to a dressing room and hung up the three dresses she’d given me. In my old life, I took dresses like these for granted. My dad handed me his AmEx card and I bought what I wanted without ever looking at the price. Those days were long gone. I glanced at the tags and almost passed out.

  I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to have to buy anything, I reminded myself, I was just on a fact finding trip. I’d try them on, ask a few questions, and get the heck out.

  The first was a black halter dress with a lacy bodice and a full skirt. The V-neckline exposed half my chest.

  The saleswoman knocked on my door. “Let me see.”

  I stepped out into the store. She walked around me, like a shark circling its prey. “Not bad,” she said. “It camouflages that bottom and minimizes your lack of breasts. Next.”

  She was full of encouragement, that one. I walked back into the room and took off the dress. After carefully hanging it up, I tried on the next. This one was royal blue with an asymmetrical neckline. I walked out on my own this time.

  “It does not hide that big bum of yours, but the color is flattering.”

  “Hey, big butts are in, you know. JLo, Kim Kardashian, ever heard of them?” Why was I defending myself? I did not have a wide ass.

  “Go try the next.”

  I trudged back into the dressing room. This was worse than shopping with my mother.

  The last dress was dark red with a sweetheart neckline and a full and rather short skirt. I felt like I was ready to skate in the Olympics.

  I stepped out of the dressing room and stood there, bracing myself for another blow to my ego. She shook her head. “Awful. Go change.” She
turned and walked to the front of the store.

  Before I could make my way back, a familiar voice stopped me.

  “Rosalyn Strickland?”

  Oh no. Tatum Hopkins. Could my life possibly suck any harder?

  Tatum and I attended Huntingford Prep together. Tatum had been a cheerleader, student class rep, Winter Court Queen, and valedictorian. Yeah, I thought she was overcompensating, too. Tatum’s mom, Stella was in my mom’s bridge club, so I knew the news of my shopping in the ritziest boutique in town would find its way to my mother sooner rather than later.

  Tatum kissed the airspace near my cheek. “Oh my gosh, look at you. You look fantastic.” She tossed her shiny dark hair and smiled. She wore a leather Burberry jacket, skinny jeans, Manolo ankle boots, and clutched a Gucci purse.

  “You too, Tatum. How are you?” You big label whore. All right, I used to be one, too.

  “I’m home from med school for the weekend. I’m trying to decide where to do my residency. It’s so hard.”

  I tried to smile through the pain. Tatum had her life all mapped out. I didn’t even know what useless class I was going to take next semester. “I’m sure. Well, it’s been just swell seeing you. Take care now.” I spun toward my dressing room.

  “Wait, what have you been up to?”

  I turned back, with a phony smile on my face. “I’ve been taking classes at the city college. It’s just great.”

  “You must be doing well to shop in here. Last I heard you were slumming it as a waitress.”

  She did not just say that. With narrowed eyes, I straightened my spine. “Oh, I still am. I work at Ma’s Diner. You should come in sometime and try the pancakes. If you don’t eat carbs, you could always purge them later, like you used to do in high school.”

  The smile slowly faded from her face.

  “Tell your mom hello for me.” I returned to the dressing room and quickly changed into my own clothes, then stood there for a few minutes, leaning against the wall. The Tatums of the world made me feel like crap. All that “only you can make yourself feel inferior” blah, blah, blah was bullshit. I felt just fine about myself before she showed up. Mostly. I hated running into people from my old life. Axton of course, being the exception. He was an oddball, like me. And he loved me just the way I was.

  When I came out of the dressing room, Tatum was gone and I sighed with relief. It would have been too humiliating to put the dresses back with her standing there, knowing I couldn’t afford them.

  The saleswoman took the them out of my hands, then hung the blue and red on the rack. Still holding the black one, she walked to a small desk with gilt accents and removed the price tag. When she put the dress in a garment bag with the Pour Femme logo on it, I started to panic. Even if I sold a kidney, I couldn’t afford that dress.

  “I’m not really sure about the black one. I need to think about it.” I began edging toward the door.

  She wrote out a ticket. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the best looking of the three and flatters you the most.”

  She held out the bag to me. “Here you go. Do you have shoes to go with that?”

  I stared at her for a moment. “Um…yes?”

  “Good. Tell them next time to give a few days’ notice. You would have had more of a selection if I had time for alterations.”

  “You bet.” I grabbed the bag and made a run for it.

  It wasn’t until I was sitting in my car that I realized I hadn’t asked her anything about NorthStar. I dropped my head on the steering wheel. I was so freaked out at seeing Tatum Hopkins and the thought of having to pay for the dress, that I forgot my first objective.

  I reached over to the passenger seat and ran my hand along the side of the bag. A little thrill shot through me. At least I got something out of it.

  As I drove to Jacks’ house, the wind made a horrible thwap-thwap-thwap sound against the clear plastic bag affixed to my passenger door. It was loud and annoying, but I didn’t feel like I was in the middle of a tornado anymore.

  Scotty answered the door in a Spiderman costume. I peered down at him, a confused expression on my face. “Excuse me, Spiderman, do I have the wrong house? I’m looking for my nephew, Scotty.”

  He started laughing like a little maniac and pulled up his mask. “It’s me, Aunt Rose. I fooled you.”

  I gasped. “You sure did. I thought I was at Spiderman’s place by mistake.”

  He turned and ran toward living room, leaving me to step in and close the door. The savory smell of oregano and tomato filled the house and made my mouth water.

  Although I was alone in the foyer, all of the sudden every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Only one person caused that reaction.

  I swung around, my hand on the door knob, ready to make a run for it.

  “Hello, Rosalyn.”

  The theme from Jaws started to play in my head. I glanced back at her. “Hello, Mother.”

  “I see you’re as surprised as I am.” She didn’t look surprised. She looked like she’d stepped on a turd.

  “I guess so.”

  Her posture was as stiff as always. She wore silky golden pants and a flowing tunic. She took in my appearance as well, her gaze landing on my jeans.

  “I talked to Stella Hopkins today. She said Tatum ran into you at Pour Femme.”

  I leaned against the door and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. Here we go. “Yep.”

  “First of all, what were you doing there?” She lifted her nose in the air. “I know for a fact you can’t afford it.”

  “Hey, have you been hacking into my bank account again?”

  “I know you like to think you’re amusing, Rosalyn, but Tatum was traumatized by your rude behavior.”

  Really? Traumatized? How does the woman expect to become a doctor if she can’t handle one little conversation? With a waitress, no less? Still, I said nothing. I was in Jacks’ home and the last thing I wanted was another incident with my mother.

  “She’s gotten treatment for her eating disorder. You were rude and hateful. And while you sneer at people like Tatum, at least she’s doing something with her life.”

  I was getting a weird sense of déjà vu, like I’d had this conversation before. Like a thousand times. And she was wrong — I didn’t sneer, I’d derided. Totally different.

  Before Barbara could speak again, my sister stepped into the foyer. “Hey, you two. Isn’t this nice?”

  We both gaped at her as if she’d escaped from a mental health facility and was still wearing the straight jacket. Her smile looked more like a grimace and her wide eyes reminded me of a frightened horse, all wild, with the whites showing. “How about a glass of wine? Does anyone want a glass of wine?” she asked before fleeing.

  A glass? How about the whole freaking bottle?

  My mother and I eyeballed one another as we walked from the foyer into the living room. Scotty was telling my dad important Spiderman facts and Allen sipped a glass of whiskey. He looked up when we entered the room.

  “Hey, Rose,” he said. He put his glass on the coffee table and reached forward to kiss my cheek, something he’d never done.

  I pulled back before his lips could make contact. “Hey, Allen. What are you doing?”

  He threw out a nervous laugh. “Oh, sorry. How about a drink? Barb, glass of wine?”

  Just then my sister walked into the living room with a tray of cheese and crackers, a bottle, and three glasses. “Here we go,” she said a little too loudly. She poured and handed each of us a glass.

  I stood by the fireplace, sipped the wine and nibbled a piece of cheese. My mom refused any food and sat down, her spine never touching the back of the sofa.

  Jacqueline sent Scotty off to change out of his costume before dinner. Once he left she turned to the rest of us. “All right,” she said and cleared her throat. “I know you might be a bit upset that I did all this without telling you. But I decided this unfortunate situation has gone on long enough.” Her shoulders sagged with relie
f, like she’d been screwing up all of her courage to say her little sentence and now she could relax. My poor, deluded sister. She had no idea what hell she’d unleashed.

  “Pardon me?” Barbara asked. Her face was expressionless, her eyes cold. “To what situation do you refer, Jacqueline?”

  Pity, fascination, and a little schadenfreude had me riveted to my sister’s reaction. Rarely was she a victim of my mother’s displeasure. That was almost always reserved for me, thank you very much.

  Jacks’ gaze flew around. If she was looking for help, she wasn’t going to find it in this room. “Um,” Jacqueline said and cleared her throat again. “The situation between you and Rose.”

  “And what situation is that?” my mother asked.

  At this point my father shifted in his chair and attempted to calm the tension. “All right, let’s all just relax.”

  My mother’s gaze shifted to him. “I’m perfectly relaxed, John. Do I not look relaxed to you?”

  My father, being a man of reasonable intelligence, shut up and sipped his whiskey.

  Jacks’ eyes were shiny with unshed tears. I decided to take pity on her. After all, she tried to do a nice thing, brokering peace between my mom and me. She didn’t realize it would never happen.

  “That’s enough, Mom. She was just trying to help.” My mother sucked in a breath. “Thank you for trying, Jacks.” I set my glass down. “Now, I’m going to go find Scotty.” I left the room and climbed the stairs.

  I stepped into his bedroom with its race car wallpaper. Scotty, still in his costume, attempted to climb on top of his dresser. His Spidey sense must not have been working because he never heard me enter. I wrangled him off the dresser, made him put on his jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes then chased him down the stairs.

  Dinner was awkward and quiet. So pretty much business as usual. Scotty talked about school, my dad and Allen talked about work, and my mother ate miniscule bites of food, refusing to speak to anyone except my gap-toothed nephew.

  I helped Jacks clear the table while the men went to the den to watch Sports Center and Barbara went to the living room with Scotty.