Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

by Terri L. Austin

  With every ounce of strength I possessed, I tried to pull my hands apart. Still, nothing. Back to rubbing.

  I had no concept of time, but the sunlight faded and shadows lengthened across the room. I prayed I would get free. I made deals with God as I continued to saw through the cord.

  Minutes passed, maybe an hour, and then the small area I had been working on severed. I was so relieved, tears stung my eyes.

  I again tried to pull my wrists apart. They moved maybe half an inch. Still, success.

  A door slammed in the distance. Panic bolted through me. Steve was home.

  Chapter 35

  My whole body trembled. What would he do when he realized I tried to break free?

  I looked around the dim room for the largest piece of glass I could find. There was a curved piece about two inches wide lying close to the door.

  I scooted my butt across the floor. I reached for the glass, but my hands were shaking so badly, I dropped it twice. On the third time, I held it tightly in my right hand. It felt awkward, thin and fragile, and I was so afraid I was going to drop it again. Then I heard the floorboard above me creak.

  Holding the glass as tightly as my bloodless fingers would allow, I quickly scooted next to the door, positioning myself behind it, and slid up the wall. I clung to the piece of glass, knowing it could be the only thing between me and death. And seeing Steve Gunderson’s stupid face was not going to be the last thing I saw before I died.

  I heard the lock slide, and I prepared myself. I’d only get one shot. The door opened and he walked into the room. “Rose?”

  I shoved the door with my forearms as hard as I could, knocking him off balance. He stumbled forward and before he could straighten, I hurled myself at him, my weight pushing him to the floor. I landed on his back, slashed it with the shard.

  Steve screamed and tried to buck me off of him.

  I dropped the glass.

  But I was in a frenzy of anger and fear. I bit the side of the neck. Hard. I tasted blood.

  He reached back and pulled my hair. I retaliated by grabbing his hair, as much as I could anyway, in my numb, bound hands.

  When he tried to stand up, I pulled a Mike Tyson and bit his ear as hard as I could. A chunk of cartilage came off in my mouth. I gagged and spit it on the floor.

  He flailed and screeched. I didn’t let go of his hair, but he let go of mine as he covered his bloody, severed ear with one hand.

  Using his hair as leverage, I pounded his forehead into the cement. Over and over and over until he stopped moving.

  I stretched out on top of him, panting and wheezing. I rolled off of him and sat up. I kicked at him with my feet to make sure he wasn’t going to hop up like Michael Myers in the Halloween movies.

  Steve was unconscious. And bleeding. Blood pooled around his head.

  I scooted toward the door, which was still half way open. Using the doorjamb, I managed to stand. I grabbed the knob with my hands and hopped backward. I fell on my butt twice, my eyes never leaving Steve’s prone, bleeding body. I shut the door and slid the lock in place.

  I leaned against the cement wall of the stairwell. My chest heaving, I gagged, and threw up what little I had in me.

  I lifted my arms and twisted my head, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, before I turned around and sat my butt on the first stair. Leaning my head against the wall, I just sat there, every muscle in my body aching. I knew I was going to have to get up those steps, but it looked like Mount Everest to me.

  I’m not sure how long it took, but I finally I gathered my strength to move and slowly climbed the stairs, using my legs to push my ass to the next step. Just make it up the stairs, I told myself over and over.

  I took a few minutes to catch my breath when I finally reached the top. Then, as best I could, I clung to the wrought iron railing, and hopped up the last stair. The door to the family room was open.

  I rolled over on my side and tried to catch my breath. Steve’s house was small. It looked like it had been built in the seventies. Or at least that was the last time it had been updated. Brown shag carpeting and ugly flocked wallpaper. The family room held a flat screen TV and one recliner.

  Gathering my strength, I crawled like an inchworm across the floor to the kitchen, but the carpet burned my belly and arms, even through my sweatshirt. I flipped over, sat up, and went back to the old butt scoot.

  I made it to the kitchen and stood up using the refrigerator as leverage. I glanced at the harvest gold stove and the wallpaper covered in red and green mushrooms. On the gold laminate counter next to the phone, I spied my purse.

  Hopping a couple of times, I unzipped the bag with my teeth, and upended it on the countertop. My wallet, keys, lip gloss, tampons, and various receipts went flying. I leaned down and managed to grab a pen with my tongue and work it into my mouth, then reached for the phone. It skidded out of my hands, landed next to the garbage can. Sinking to the floor, I snagged for it and struggled to sit back up. It was difficult trying to flip open the phone with my hands still tied, but I managed. With the pen clenched between my teeth, I dialed and hit send. I spit the pen out on the floor.

  “Help me.”

  Within fifteen minutes Sullivan kicked in Steve’s front door. “Rose?”

  “In here,” I said. My voice sounded scratchy and faint.

  Seconds later, he was in the kitchen. Shock marred his handsome face as his gaze swept over me. He bent down next to me on the floor, his hands probing my head and torso. “Where’s the bleeding coming from?” His elegant fingers glided over my jaw. I winced.

  “It’s not my blood. It’s Steve’s. He’s in the basement.”

  “Henry,” he said. His attention to me never wavered.

  “I’m on it.”

  I heard Henry stomp through the family room.

  “Untie me,” I said.

  He looked strange, swallowed a few times, and seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. He went to work on the cords. Once I was free, he rubbed my wrists and hands. Tingling was too mild a word for what I felt when the blood started flowing back into my fingers and toes.

  “Did you kill him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Henry walked into the kitchen. Eyes on Sullivan, he shook his head.

  “I bit him. I bit off his ear,” I whispered.

  Sullivan smoothed a hand over my hair.

  He stayed with me, crouching in front of me, petting me. Then he sat down next to me, pulling me onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, while he murmured into my hair and continued to stroke my head.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said after a while.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No,” I snapped.

  “Okay. I’ll wait right here for you.”

  He helped me up. My muscles were stiff and achy, and I shuffled like a little old woman down the hall.

  I turned on the overhead light in the bathroom, realizing for the first time it was fully dark outside. I looked at myself in the mirror and gasped. I looked like Ma’s video game zombie who’d gone on a feeding frenzy. Steve’s dried blood smeared my pale face, and there was a dark bruise covering my jaw.

  I bent over the sink and scrubbed at my face with hot water. It floated through my mind that I would need an AIDS test. Probably other STD tests as well. It’s not every day you take a bite out of someone. The thought made me giggle, hysteria started to creep up, but I quickly shook it off. I wiped my hands and face on a blue towel hanging next to the sink, used the toilet, and washed up again.

  As I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, I heard Sullivan and Henry whispering. They stopped talking when I walked into the room. Henry turned and went toward the family room again and Sullivan took both of my hands in his.

  “Tell me what you want to do, Rose.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “About Gunderson.”

 
; “I just want to go home.”

  He let go of my hands and rubbed up and down my arms. “I know, sweetheart. But what do you want me to do with Steve?”

  I shook my head. I still didn’t understand the question. All I wanted to do was fall onto my futon and pull the covers over my head.

  “I can make his body disappear. Is that what you want, Rose?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” I understood the words but I didn’t comprehend their meaning.

  “Steve’s dead.”

  Wordlessly, I shook my head.

  He pulled me close, wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You did the right thing. You were protecting yourself.”

  I’d killed a man. I’d pounded his head into the concrete and killed him. I should have felt guilty, horrified. But I felt numb. I survived. I was still standing and Steve was dead.

  Sullivan drew back. “I’ll call someone I know on the police force. But listen,” he gave my arms a little squeeze, “you got away from Gunderson, you made it to the kitchen, and you passed out. Do you hear me? You passed out before you called me.”

  It finally dawned on me what he was saying. “How long has it been since you got here?”

  “Four and a half hours. Now, repeat what I said Rose.”

  Had Steve died because of the delay? If I’d called the police instead of Sullivan, would he still be alive?

  Sullivan shook me. “Repeat.”

  “I passed out in the kitchen before I called you.”

  “I told you not to do anything until I got here. Say it, Rose.”

  I repeated everything he told me, like a robot.

  He led me to a kitchen chair, knelt down, and hugged me while we waited for the police to show up.

  Yesterday I felt nothing but anger for this man who used the police and political figures for his own purposes. Now I was relieved he had so many connections.

  Grateful he was here.

  Two detectives, uniformed officers, and four EMTs arrived.

  The paramedics checked my vitals and pronounced that I was in shock. The detectives questioned me briefly as the paramedics bundled me onto a gurney. Sullivan climbed into the back of the ambulance and held my hand the entire way to the hospital.

  “Do you want me to call your parents?”

  I swallowed and shook my head.

  “What about Axton or your friend Roxy?”

  “No.” I didn’t want them to see me like this.

  “What can I do for you, Rose?”

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.

  Chapter 36

  It took four days of being questioned by the police, a two night stay in the hospital for observation — my jaw was only bruised, not broken — and three visits with an attorney my dad insisted on, before I finally got back to my life.

  I don’t know how Sullivan managed it, but my name stayed out of the news. I watched the coverage from my hospital bed and my name was never mentioned. The helmet-haired reporters said Steve Gunderson had kidnapped an unnamed victim and died during an ensuing altercation.

  Altercation. Right.

  When my parents visited me in the hospital, my mother was slightly less rigid than usual. We chatted briefly before my father asked to speak to me alone. My mother glared at him, but left the room.

  “Did Sullivan have anything to do with this?” he asked, once she was gone.

  “No, Dad, absolutely not. In fact, he helped me.”

  I saw doubt on his face. He scanned my features, checking to see if I was lying, I guess.

  “It’s true. I called him for help. He came to Steve Gunderson’s house and called the police. He even rode to the hospital with me.”

  “Where is he then? I haven’t seen him.”

  I hadn’t seen him either. He stayed that first night, but when Roxy, Axton, and Eric arrived, Sullivan disappeared faster than a pot brownie around Stoner Joe.

  My dad kissed my cheek and left.

  When my sister and Allen came to the hospital, they brought flowers and a card that Scotty made. Eventually Jacks sent Allen to get me some ice chips, but really, she just wanted some privacy.

  “I’m so sorry for those things I said, Rose.” I could tell by her puffy, red eyes she’d been crying.

  “No, Jacks, it’s okay. I love you. You’re the best sister in the world.” I think I was feeling a little loopy from the sedative the nurse had given me.

  “I love you, too, Rose, just the way you are. And you’re not a loser.” She laid her head on my stomach and began sobbing.

  I patted her hair until I fell asleep.

  Ma didn’t let me work for a week. I told her I needed the money, but she insisted it would be a paid sick leave. That was really generous of her.

  After I got home from the hospital, Axton bought me a new TV and a DVD player. He christened it with Mars Needs Women—which according to him was a classic. He and Eric stopped by every night for a week and usually brought pizza.

  Ma and Ray came in the afternoons and brought real food. Jorge’s wife, Marisol, sent enchiladas.

  Roxy came bearing anime DVDs and nail polish. My toes never looked better. And I was hooked on Eden of the East. “Told you,” she said smugly.

  Jacks stopped by every morning with a latte and a fresh danish.

  Even Janelle dropped in, bringing my graded assignments with her. I looked them over and knew my major would never be in accounting. She also brought me a gift from Tariq, something called a Knuckle Zapper. It looked like brass knuckles, but acted like a stun gun. It was very cool.

  Dane came as well and brought flowers. “Rose.” He dropped next to me on the futon. “I should have stuck to you like glue throughout all this. I feel responsible.”

  I patted his leg. “You’re not responsible any more than I am. Steve Gunderson was a nutball. No one knew. Apparently he pulled this stalker shit on his ex-girlfriend and she was too scared to report it.”

  He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “As soon as you’re feeling up to it, I want to take you out. Anywhere you want to go.”

  I smiled, gently pulling my hand from his grasp. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I’d killed a man and it had changed me. I’d do it again. It was Steve or me and I chose me. I didn’t feel guilty about it, not exactly. But I didn’t feel okay about it, either. And I couldn’t just go back to my life like nothing had happened. I certainly couldn’t think about dating.

  “I’m a mess, Dane. I can’t be with anybody right now.”

  “Is it Sullivan?”

  God, I was so tired of men and their fragile egos. “No, Dane. But it’s not you, either. I’m not what you want and I don’t know if you’re what I need.”

  “You are what I want and I’m not going to give up on you, Rose Strickland.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound like Kevin.”

  “That was cold.”

  I nodded.

  That was the first week. On day eight at five a.m. on the button, I threw on jeans and a Ma’s Diner t-shirt and went back to work. Ma protested, as did Ray. But Roxy set the salt shakers in front of me. I ignored everyone and refilled them.

  By the middle of my shift, I was exhausted. All the sleepless nights and the stress had taken their toll. Ma made me sit down and eat. I felt weird, sitting at the counter with the customers, eating breakfast. But I did it, then finished my shift.

  They wouldn’t let me help clean up, though. Ma sent me packing just as soon as she flipped the closed sign.

  I drove home, and when I pulled up to my building, I saw him standing there, waiting for me. He leaned against the hood of a black Lexus sedan.

  After I parked, Sullivan walked toward me. I met him halfway and we stood awkwardly in the middle of the parking lot.

  The autumn sun made his skin seem more honeyed than usual. He looked handsome in his dark tailored suit.

  “How are you, Rose?”

  The wind picked up a strand of my
hair and blew it across my cheek. Sullivan reached out and tucked it behind my ear. His fingers brushed lightly over my still bruised jaw.

  “Better. You?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No you’re not. But you will be.” He dipped his head toward mine, his lips grazing my cheek. “If you’re ever in trouble again, promise you’ll call me.”

  I wasn’t about to promise him anything. I had just rescued Axton, outsmarted Thomas Sullivan, and survived a psycho. I was Rose Freaking Strickland, and I was a badass.

  Reader’s Discussion Guide

  1. Rose went to great lengths to rescue Axton. Would you have done the same? How far would you go to save a best friend? Would you put yourself in danger?

  2. Which secondary character was your favorite and why?

  3. Some of the characters have questionable ethics. Roxy used to steal, Axton uses drugs, and Sullivan is a criminal. Do the positives outweigh the negatives in these characters?

  4. Compare and contrast Rose’s “adopted” family with her real family. What are the positive and negative traits of both?

  5. Rose’s mother, Barbara, repeatedly tells Rose to do something with her life. Is she wrong to pressure Rose to get a degree and find a better job?

  6. Did Rose evolve over the course of the book? Why or why not? If so, what brought about the change?

  7. Who is more successful, Rose or Jacks? Why?

  8. Do you think Rose regretted her decision to break away from her family and gain her independence?

  9. What were the major themes throughout the book?

  10. Which character do you relate to the most and why?

  11. Do you wish the characters had done something different or made a different choice?

  12. Describe what you liked about the writer’s style.

  About Terri L. Austin

  When Terri isn’t writing, she enjoys eating breakfast at her local diner, watching really bad movies, and hanging out with her kids when they’re home from college. She lives in Missouri with her funny, handsome husband and her high maintenance peekapoo.