by K J Carr
A little bit later, we pulled into Luther’s parking lot. Yes, Luther. I always grinned seeing the sign. Everyone thought it had been named after a family member, perhaps our father, when in fact it had been named after a pig.
“Our father had purchased Luther as a young piglet for food, thinking that 4H would be a good way to keep young kids – namely Marcus and myself — out of trouble.” I commented, half to myself. “Luther, on the other hand, outwitted my father by burrowing into our heartstrings. He played fetch, followed us everywhere – heck, he was better than any dog in town in terms of obedience. We refused to let him kill our pet. Luther had lived until eighteen, in the lap of luxury. He also had the last laugh, outliving our father and dying only a month after our parents had died in a car accident.”
Malak chuckled quietly.
Marcus, my big brother, was a Le Cordon Bleu trained chef and could have been working almost anywhere in the world. When the diner had come up for sale, though, he had come home and bought it. He had said that simple food feeds the soul and making simple food fed his. In any case, the people around here were happy. People came from miles around to eat at Luther’s.
Like always, the parking lot was full, but not as full as usual since it was after the general breakfast run and not yet time for the lunch one. But since it was a Saturday, there were always those who ate brunch. I pulled into my spot – yes, my brother was nice enough to give me a “celebrity” spot – around the side. It wasn’t near the front door, but it wasn’t that far of a walk. If I wanted, I could slip in the kitchen door, but I felt that was rude when I wasn’t working. Today I was a customer and we would walk in the front like all the other customers.
I got out of the car and the world spun, the colors streaming in reds, greens, blues, and pinks. I sighed and reached out a hand to steady myself against the car, closing my eyes for a moment. I took deep breaths waiting for things to settle down, centering myself. After what must have only been a few minutes, I opened my eyes and looked across the car. Malak was watching me, but it was interesting that it was only that. His eyes didn’t show any pity or even strong curiosity; he just was waiting until I was ready.
“Vertigo.” I shrugged, finally moving and shutting the car door. I slowly walked around the car to stand near him.
“I know.” He softly stated. That caused me to raise an eyebrow in surprise. He shrugged and took my elbow, supporting me while not being obvious about it. “What I don’t understand is why you would stand on a cliff when you could have an attack.”
“I wasn’t standing!” I was indignant. “I was sitting. I knew that standing was dangerous.”
“Obviously, for you, sitting was too.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault! You scared me!” I poked him in his side. Ouch! He was all muscle and bone. He didn’t even flinch.
We walked at a steady pace towards the entrance, my balance slightly off but not noticeable with the extra help Malak provided. It also appeared that the healing thing he did for my shoulder was gently going on, as I could feel the warmth travel up my arm and neck to the side of my head. My gait smoothed out enough so that when we reached the door, I was able to open it and move in front of him to enter.
“Hey there, Nica!” Millie, a fixture at Luther’s for almost as long as it had been open, greeted me as she carried a tray of meals towards a table full of young people. “Sit anywhere.”
“Thanks, Millie.” I grinned back at her. Glancing around, I noticed that my favorite table in the back corner was open. I wondered how it almost always was available, but then decided I didn’t want to know if people were moved when they saw my car drive in. Privilege had its advantages.
I moved towards the booth, almost tripping once over nothing. Malak reached out but didn’t touch me, realizing that I was alright this time. When I almost got there, a man appeared in front of me and stopped with his hand out.
“Hey, I called this one.” He smirked at me.
“What?” I stopped in confusion. I had seen him sitting at the counter and didn’t know why he was over here now.
“I called this booth. I am just waiting for my friends to come.” He moved to sit down on one of the seats.
“But you weren’t sitting here.” Malak came up behind me.
“I am now. I was just talking to that pretty lady behind the counter.” He waved in Candace’s direction.
I stood there, frowning. I didn’t like to pull rank on the guy, but I really wanted my booth today.
Candace came over and looked at me. “You can sit somewhere else today, Jennica.”
No, Candace wasn’t my favorite person. She had just started working here at Luther’s a few weeks ago and seemed to cause problems much of the time.
“But this is my booth.”
The man made a show of looking around. “Don’t know who you are, but I don’t see any name on this booth.” The man’s tone was almost nasty.
Malak made a slight move, but I put my hand out.
“Okay, fine. We will sit somewhere else.” I started to move away.
“No, Nica.” A firm voice sounded behind Candace. She flinched.
I glanced behind her, seeing Marcus. He was easily six feet, four inches of pure muscle. He had been in the military for twenty years and kept up a similar exercise routine once he got out. He always said it was because he was around food so much that he had to work out or he would get fat.
His dark beard was close-shaved, and his hair was cut close to his head. He didn’t like to spend a lot of time on either item, so he kept them short. I thought he was better looking when he let them grow out a bit, but, hey, it wasn’t my body.
Candace spun around. “Marcus!”
He looked at her for a moment. “I need you behind the counter, Candace.”
“I was just supporting this customer!”
Marcus just stared at her. “Please.” While it sounded like he was asking, both Candace and I knew he was telling her to move.
She pouted briefly but moved back towards the counter. “He was there first, Marcus.” She just had to have the last word.
Marcus turned towards the guy, eying him. “No, he wasn’t.”
I looked at my brother in surprise. The guy sputtered.
Marcus moved a little closer, looming over the man. “I saw that Millie had seated you over there.” He pointed to a table closer to the center of the room. “It has enough room for you and your friends.”
The man frowned. “But I like this booth better.”
“No.”
At this point, I was amazed the man was still arguing. Everyone knew that Marcus didn’t put up with crap. You know how some places say that the customer is always right? Not in Marcus’s domain. You are only right if he decided you were right. If he thought otherwise, you could get thrown out of the diner. It wasn’t as if anyone could ruin his business – his food was too good to miss. People were known to beg to be allowed back in if they had gotten thrown out for bad behavior.
This man, though, must be a first-time customer. He stood up, thinking to intimidate my brother. He quickly discovered that Marcus was not only taller, but his shoulders were broader.
“Why not?” Still had to try, though. I wasn’t sure if he was brave or just stupid. Perhaps both.
“My restaurant, my rules.”
I glanced at the counter. I could see Candace watching this, her eyes maliciously gleaming. That one was going to be trouble, mark my words. It was my opinion that Marcus should fire her now. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my decision.
“I would think the customer is always right.” The man shot back, his arms folded across his chest.
“Only when you are right. When you are stirring up trouble, then you are wrong.” I could tell that Marcus was angry now, but it was that slow burn type of anger. It would simmer for a while and then explode out finally. God help us all when that happened.
Lucky for this guy, the door opened, and three other young men strolled in. One glanc
ed over and quickly assessed the situation. He turned to Millie and asked her where they were supposed to sit, moving towards the table that she gestured towards. He sat down and urged his friends, who looked confused looking over towards us, to sit as well.
“Hey, Tom! We’re here!” He glanced towards the guy, waving.
Tom looked at them and frowned. “We are going to sit here.” He pointed at the booth.
The man shook his head and whispered something to his companions before getting up and moving over to us.
“Morning, Marcus.” He reached his hand out and Marcus shook it. I glanced briefly at my watch. Yep, still morning. Barely.
“Randall.”
“And my favorite chef’s sister!” Randall emphasized, for the benefit of his friend. “How are things going, Nica?”
“Hi, Randall. How are you doing?” My voice was polite. I didn’t know Randall well, but I had met him a few times and seen him in the restaurant more. I knew what he was doing. It cost me nothing to go along with it.
Randall turned towards Tom. “We want to sit over there, Tom. Come on and let Nica have her booth.” Randall’s voice was insistent.
Tom looked back and forth between me and Randall. He then glanced over towards Candace, who suddenly was busy on the other end of the counter. He realized that he had been played and it hadn’t been a nice joke. He glanced at Marcus.
“Ah, sorry for the fuss, dude. I didn’t realize…” He started to move around Marcus and towards the other table.
Marcus let him go, deciding that the man really wasn’t the problem. “That is okay. Please be seated. Dessert will be on me; just let your server know I said so.”
The two men moved back towards the table, Randall whispering urgently in Tom’s ear. I don’t think Tom knew how close he had come to being kicked out and never let in again.
“Nica.” Marcus waved towards the booth.
I smiled at him and reached up, grabbing his ears to pull him down to kiss his cheek. “She is trouble with a capital T, bro,” I whispered into his ear.
Letting go, I slid into the booth. Marcus rubbed one of his ears, his face turning slightly pink. “I know. I am watching her.”
“You do that.” I put my hands straight out on the table, rubbing the rich, dark wood. I had always loved the furniture that Marcus had put into this diner. It wasn’t like any other diner I have ever eaten in – and yet, it was like all of them.
Malak still stood, quietly. Marcus turned towards him. “Please, sit. Welcome to Luther’s.”
Malak smiled and held out his hand. “Malak Tunsen.”
Marcus shook his hand and waved him towards a seat. “Marcus Maykis.”
Malak sat. And then came the question I was afraid my brother was going to ask.
“How do you know my sister?”
My head hit the table with a thump.
Chapter 3
With my head down on the table, I could hear the men talking over me.
“A tad dramatic, isn’t she?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, yes!” Marcus chuckled. “But this is part of what makes Nica special.”
There was a pause and then, in a typical Marcus fashion, he added on: “So, how do you know my sister?”
I peeked up at Malak and he grinned back at me. “I just met her, while hiking. I happened to have stumbled over her favorite spot and we started talking.”
I rested my head on my hands, staring at the man. He wasn’t lying per se, but he wasn’t quite telling the truth either. He was focused on Marcus, not looking at me at this moment.
“She mentioned this wonderful restaurant and offered to bring me here to sample the food. So here I am.” Malak finished, his tone light.
Marcus stared at him a minute. I could tell my brother knew something was off, but he couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. Then again, I also knew he trusted me and my gut feelings. He knew I would have sooner punched a guy in the nose than bring him to Luther’s. I was that antisocial, particularly towards strangers.
He exhaled and nodded. “Yes. Right.” He glanced around and waved a server over. “Teresa will tell you the specials and take care of your order.”
Teresa moved over and smiled at us. “Hi-ya, Nica.”
I smiled back. Marcus turned and took a few steps back towards the kitchen and then turned to face me again.
“Nica, Kaitie said to remind you about brunch tomorrow. Eleven sharp.” He grinned at me and then continued on, stopping at a few tables to greet the regulars who showed up every Saturday at this time.
“Brunch. Right.” I sat up, pushing my dark, tight curls off my face.
Teresa grinned and reached into the pocket of her waist apron. She held out a hair tie towards me.
I blushed and took it, using it to twist my hair up into a bun on the back of my head.
Malak chortled. “They carry hair bands for you?”
Teresa laughed. “Almost all of us long-timers do. It is a known fact that Nica usually either loses or forgets these and is looking for one almost every time she comes in. Marcus buys them by the hundreds and we generally put a few in our pockets to have at all times.”
She turned slightly and waved, palm out, towards the restaurant. Millie and about three other servers all pulled out a hair tie and waved it in the air before returning to what they were doing.
My head thumped down on the table again. “Kill me now.”
“I think it’s cute.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.
I sat up. “Perhaps, if I was about sixteen!” I wailed. “I am a sixty-year-old woman!”
“So, own it.”
That stopped me cold. “What?”
“Own it. Just accept that these people are your family and know what you need almost before you know it. They love you and are here for you.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. I sat back up and glanced up at Teresa. She smiled at me and mouthed “Love you!” back at me.
“Okay. Thanks.” I sat back pensively.
“Specials?”
“Please, Teresa, even though I will probably end up getting my usual.”
Teresa laughed.
As Teresa read off the specials, I watched the man across from me. I was surprised at his insight and I still wondered what he wanted with me. Why had he been on that mountain? Why was he here now?
“Ummm… what?” I realized that they had been talking to me, while I had stared at Malak’s face. Fuck me. My face grew hot.
Teresa laughed. “Tell you what, honey, I will just bring you your usual #1 breakfast. It is what you probably will want anyway.” The woman turned and walked over to the grill, her hips intentionally swaying.
“Sorry, got lost in thought,” I mumbled.
Malak grinned at me.
Millie stopped by, put down two mugs and filled them with coffee. “Sugar and the creamers are over there near the condiments.” She smiled and walked away, looking for the next table to refresh their cups.
I pulled my mug towards me, reaching for a couple of creamers and dumping them in.
Malak just took a sip of the hot black liquid, his lips pursing to blow some cooler air over the mug first.
“Good.” He sighed and leaned back against the seat. He looked around the booth area, and then up at the ceiling, his face tight with concentration. Then he relaxed.
“What?” I looked at him warily.
“Silence barrier. We can hear others, they can enter the space, but what they hear of our conversation is just bits and pieces, more of a mummer of sound.” He picked up the mug and gave it another sip.
“And you did this why?”
“Privacy. What we will discuss is only between you and me. Others may have had, in the past, a similar conversation, but most don’t remember it, particularly if they took the blue pill.” He shrugged.
I considered this. “What if they didn’t? What if they decided to take the red pill?” Yep, got that movie reference.
His finger
s tapped on the table, a slight smile on his face, even though he didn’t meet my eyes. “Then we show them how deep the rabbit hole goes.” He raised his gaze to mine, his eyes serious. “I can show you Wonderland.”
Wonderland. He was implying that the world as I knew it, as most of us perceived it, wasn’t quite the world as it really was. Then again, he had already shown me wings.
“Isn’t this something you would do for a younger person?” That was a discrepancy in all of this, in my opinion.
“No.” He shook his head. “Humans are babies until you reach fifty. Some even after that. By the time you are sixty, you can look at the world as more than what you are told it should be. Probably because many of you are thinking more about what you call death. You begin to get it, that reality is just a construct someone or collective someones had made up for you.”
Whoa, blowing my mind here! Still, I was curious. Death never was something I could take as anything other than a fact of life. I didn’t cry at funerals. I didn’t believe it was truly the end, I guess. For me, and my scientifically oriented mind, energy — which is what our bodies and personalities are made up of — couldn’t be created or destroyed. When a person dies, that energy has to go somewhere, even if it was in the collective whole. Kaitie had a different perspective, and I couldn’t say that she was wrong. But since no one ever came back to give us the details, we couldn’t know what really happens.
“What do you call Death, Malak?”
He held the mug against the table and turned it, thinking. Teresa came over and slid our plates in front of us, asking if we needed anything. Both of us shook our heads and she left, given the place was beginning to fill with the lunchtime crowd.
I looked down, and my stomach grumbled. Corned beef hash, eggs over medium, fried potatoes, toast and a side of bacon. The breakfast of those-who-ignore-their-doctor’s-warnings. Yum.
Malak had ordered an omelet, with what looked like a ton of veggies in it, and a side of bacon. Smart boy, about the bacon.
“Marcus makes his own bacon.” I pointed at his plate with my fork, my first mouthful already swallowed. “He funds a local farm so that they feed the pigs the best organic food and lets them graze in a field. Then when they slaughter them – in a kosher way, of course – he uses the pork bellies to make the bacon. No one quite knows all of what he puts on it to flavor it, but everyone agrees it is the best bacon in the state.”