Terri Austin - Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

Standing in front of me, his chest touching mine, he gave me a wolfish smile and flashed his teeth, completely unconcerned I could zap the crap out of him. “Because if I did it, Rose, I would take credit for it.”

I blinked. Of course he would. He would rub my nose in it and tell me it was another warning, and something worse would happen if I didn’t shape up. Oh my God, I actually believed him.

“What about Henry? He’s capable of this.”

“Henry wouldn’t take a piss unless I told him to.”

“Nice imagery.”

“Who else have you ticked off besides me?”

This could take all night. “I have an ex who’s not happy with me.”

Sullivan walked around the room until he realized there was no place to sit. “Yes, Kevin Wilkins. Your taste in men is terrible.”

“It is beyond creepy that you know so much about my ex-boyfriend.” I tossed the stun gun onto my pallet. It seemed stupid to keep clutching it. I wasn’t going to use it on Sullivan and he knew it. “And what do you know about my taste in men?”

“You’ve been dating Dane Harker.” He made it sound like an accusation.

“That’s none of your business. My life is none of your business.”

“Right now, everything you do is my business. You’re a wild card. Unpredictable. Anyway, Dane Harker is another mistake.” He flicked his hand like he was shooing a fly.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

He walked toward me, stopping just six inches away. “Dane Harker follows the rules. He likes things nice and neat. He plays golf on Saturdays, has Chinese takeout every Wednesday. Orders the same thing every time, by the way.”

“He’s nice.”

“He’s boring.”

“Well, Kevin’s not boring. Kevin’s not predictable.”

“Kevin is a moron. He legally changed his name to Spaz.”

Yeah, okay, there was that. Kevin was a moron. But if Sullivan thought I was going to agree with him, he was cuckoo in the cabeza. Wait. Why was I arguing about my love life with this crime boss, in the middle of the night no less?

“Why are you here? To apologize for wrecking my apartment?”

His lips thinned. “I told you. I didn’t do it.”

I lifted my palms up, my fingertips brushing his chest. “Let’s pretend that’s true.” I echoed his words from the first night he broke into my apartment. “You still have Axton.”

“Yes, and I’m keeping him.” Clasping my hands in his, he looked around the room. “You can’t stay here. If whoever did this comes back—”

“I can take care of myself, thank you.” I tried to pull my hands out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold on me. A little shiver zinged through me. Sullivan was the bad guy. Not the guy I should be zinging for.

“Yes, you’ve done an amazing job so far,” he said, as his thumbs made little circles on my palms.

I glared at him, trying again to pull away. This time he let me go. I clenched my fists against the tingles.

“You don’t even have a bed to sleep in, Rose.” He nodded his head toward my pallet.

I raised a brow. “And that’s your concern, why?”

His face, so full of emotion a moment before, became expressionless. “You’re right. It’s not.”

He slammed the door when he left.

Ma looked me over. “Rose, you don’t look too good.”

What else was new? I had dark purple splotches under my eyes and no amount of cheap makeup could hide them. “I can’t seem to get enough sleep.”

Roxy walked out of the kitchen and tied an apron around her waist. She wore a short pink and white dress that looked like a flouncy birthday cake. “I swear, Rose, you look worse every day.”

I glared at her and bared my teeth. I may have growled.

“Jeez, just saying.”

“Sullivan came by last night. He says he didn’t trash my apartment.”

Ma slapped her hands on the counter. “What is wrong with that man? He’s got a lot of gall, I’ll tell you that for free.”

“Or maybe he has the hots for Rose,” Roxy said. “So, do we believe him?”

I nodded and refilled my coffee cup. “Yep. I do. But I also believed Dane and Kevin when they denied it. I’m too tired to think about it anymore. All I want is to rescue Axton and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Come and stay with me, Rose,” Ma said. “You can have the spare bedroom.”

Someone vandalized my car and my apartment. No way I’d put her in that kind of danger. “Thanks Ma, but my futon mattress is coming today. I’m hoping I can get to bed early tonight, with no uninvited guests.”

We got to work and the morning passed quickly. Until ten-thirty when my mother walked in the diner.

She was awash in beige. Beige coat, beige slacks, beige sweater. Her hair was perfect, her brown leather handbag expensive, and her shoes probably cost more than I made in a month.

“Hello, Rosalyn.” She looked around the diner, her lips puckered in contempt. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

Ma came out from behind the counter. “You must be Rose’s mother. I can see the resemblance.”

Barbara tilted her lips into a fake smile. “Yes.”

“Mom, this is Ma. Ma this is my mother, Barbara Strickland.”

Ma wiped her hand on a dish towel and extended it to my mother. “Nice to meet you, Barbara.”

My mother had that half handshake, where she just gave you her fingertips as if she were Queen Elizabeth greeting the little people. “It’s nice to meet you. Ma.”

Roxy finished refilling a cup of coffee at the table in the far corner. She walked up to us. “Hello,” she said, chomping her gum.

Barbara quickly scanned Roxy’s blue hair and pink confection of a dress. “Rosalyn, somewhere private?”

“You can use my office,” Ma said.

Ma’s office consisted of a small desk covered in fake wood and a rolling chair with yellow foam spilling out of its ripped seat. Metal shelves filled with cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and liquid soap in gallon bottles lined the walls.

“Make yourself at home,” Ma said, closing the door behind her.

“With every advantage we gave you, this is where you ended up.”

I was so tired and the stress of the past several days started catching up with me. My nerves were jumpy and jittery from too much coffee and the last thing I needed was my mother dispensing lectures.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

Her disgusted gaze turned from the shelves to me. Too bad the expression on her face never changed. I guess I ranked up there with the single ply.

“I have heard from several sources that you were seen in front of the police station making a spectacle of yourself.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

She took a deep breath through her nose. Good, she was having a hard time with the whole patience thing, too.

“What exactly were you doing with Dane Harker?”

I gave her my wide-eyed, confused look. “Making a spectacle of myself?”

“You know,” she said through thinned lips, “we have put up with your nonsense for a long time. We’ve had to defend you to all of our friends. You work in a diner. As a waitress.” She practically hissed the last word. “You befriend people like Axton Graystone and that blue-haired freak out there.” She pointed toward the dining area. “And now I hear that you were getting ‘physical’,” she used air quotes, “with Dane Harker.

“Well I’m tired of having to tell people you’re ‘trying to find yourself’.” She did the air quote thing again. “It’s high time you grow up and act like a responsible adult. Really. Groping the man in the middle of the street. It’s humiliating.”

“I wasn’t groping him, Mother. He hugged me. It wasn’t a big deal.”