by Wild, Nikki
“What are you doing in Louisiana? The last I heard of you, you were still in Arizona. You made one hell of a wrong turn on your way to New York.”
The rowdiness at the other booth had hushed down. They were listening to every damn word I was saying, and I quickly recognized why this place was making me feel so uneasy.
Eyes were on me.
Kate noticed them too, tensing up without turning. “I told you, pal. I don’t know you. Now, are you going to order anything, or do I need to have you tossed out? We don’t take to overnight squatters here…”
My eyes filtered over her shoulder and to the other waitress, popping bubble gum and watching with mild amusement. As we made brief eye contact, she winked slyly, licking her lips.
I ignored the open invitation. “I’ll take…” I lifted the menu again. “How’s your steak?”
“It’s shit,” Kate shrugged.
“…Oh.”
I glanced quickly over the rest.
“What about your pork chop?”
“This is Waffle Shack. Do you seriously think you’re gonna get a prime piece of meat at a place called Waffle Shack?”
“Point taken. Waffle.”
“What kind of waffle?” She smirked.
“Your best kind.”
Kate glanced over her shoulder and called over to the enclosed kitchen. “Chocolate chip waffle, peanuts on top.”
“I have a nut allergy,” I reminded her.
“Oh, you do?” She turned back, disguising a sly glint of amusement in her eyes. “Good thing you told me, I’d have never guessed.”
Before I could remind her of when I’d nearly choked to death on my seventeenth birthday from a grocery store cake, she quickly shouted over her shoulder again.
“Junior Shack Waffle, the works, hold the nuts!”
Kate turned to me again.
“Any sides?”
“Hash browns,” I answered civilly.
“We’re out.”
I glanced around her at an elderly woman at the countertop, happily scooping a heaping of cheesy bacon hash browns into her mouth.
“Fresh out,” Kate clarified coolly.
“Sausages, then.”
She smirked. “You don’t want them.”
“I don’t?” An eyebrow lifted.
“I don’t know, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I retorted.
“Trust your waitress,” she chuckled. “I know what goes on with the meat back there. You don’t want ‘em.”
I watched a nearby, cheery older trucker pause, a half-eaten chunk of sausage on his fork, and stare at it with confusion.
“Fine,” I replied. “What about grits?”
“I thought you didn’t like grits?”
A half-smile crept across my face as I watched the cogs spin. When she realized what she’d done, she narrowed her eyes.
Kate growled to the kitchen.
“Add a side of sausages!”
“That’s a little more like it,” I muttered, taking a sip of the finest warm tap water this side of the Mississippi river.
The tension was still in the air, but I kept to myself at that point. With time, it started to fade down, and I even heard the backwater punks in the booth behind me riling up a bit when Kate sauntered over with their side plates.
While they were preoccupied, I turned slightly and summed them up.
The brutish ringleader of the pack stunk of self-righteous bullshit. He was giving Kate trouble, trying to swat at her ass or pinch at her until she put him in his place. Even when she verbally knocked him down a few pegs, he’d drunkenly laugh it off.
But there was something dark about him, and I noticed her body language. She was afraid of him. I couldn’t help but feel like he had hurt her before, either physically or mentally, but I couldn’t be sure.
I made a mental note of this and glanced at the others in his group.
There were three of them, all cut from the same kind of cloth. Like slobbering dogs given human form, the animals were eager for a piece. While they came in different shapes – one tall and lanky, one short and gruff, the last one broad but stupid – they were all parts to the same beast.
It was a beast to steer clear of.
The entire group disgusted me. As I noticed the stupid one plainly looking at me with a boorish smirk on his face, I calmly turned my gaze away from their table.
I heard the scuffle of boots against the tiles. I sighed inwardly, resigning myself to violence.
It was my own fault.
I had been watching them for too long.
“You got a problem, asshole?”
It was the brains of the operation talking, if you could call him that. I was taller than most, but he had two inches on me… and six inches on my stomach thanks to his lazy ass beer belly. I could tear this man apart limb from limb, but I didn’t want it to come to that.
“No problem,” I responded calmly.
“Then why’re you lookin’ at us?” He demanded, a slight slur to his words. “Think I’m pretty? Somethin’ on my face? What is it, asshole?”
“I’m not here for any trouble,” I replied honestly. “Nothing to do in this joint, thought I’d take a look around.”
The thug looked like he was going to try something, but just laughed. “Yeah, they broke the damn jukebox a while back… fucking morons. Can’t enjoy a goddamn meal in peace with my boys on the juke anymore…”
I held back a growl. This guy was going to be a problem, sooner or later. “Shame, that.”
“Yeah… I know, right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
He looked apologetic for a split second, but amped up the macho shit again. “Just… keep to yourself, outsider. Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’, y’heard?”
“Crystal clear,” I said.
The fucker either ignored or didn’t hear the menace in my voice, because he looked satisfied as he waddled back to his booth. It was then that I noticed two things. We were the only patrons left in the diner now, and Kate was pretending to not watch our little exchange while sharing words with the cook.
She was hiding her concern well, but I knew that she was anxious about the little verbal spat. Maybe she didn’t want a fight in her restaurant.
I made a little promise to myself that I wouldn’t let it come to that… I’d take things outside, if necessary.
My Junior Shack waffle with sausages came shortly afterward. Kate’s coworker brought it over while she was tied up with the brutes at the other table.
A frown crossed my lips when I saw it.
To my irritation, it came without butter or maple syrup. Instead, the toppings were a generous dollop of whipped cream, caramel, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and a cherry. The sausages were almost bigger than the goddamn waffle, and I’d had a hard ride for hours since the last motel stop…
It was a tiny fucking thing. She’s served me up a goddamned kids meal.
“Here you go, sugar,” the little waitress cooed as she wiggled her ass over, placing the plate in front of me. Her thumb grazed the tip of the whipped cream, and she thumbed her mouth, “accidentally” leaving a small streak on her lips. She licked them clean with a graceful flick of the tongue, her eyes filled with unbridled desire.
“If that’s not enough for ya, I think I might be able to whip you a little something up in back…”
With the subtlety of a cinderblock, she flashed a lustful smirk, bent over the table with her palms down and her fake tits practically begged to be nibbled and suckled.
But that’s not the kind of man I am.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I calmly shut her down with a stern glance. While she pouted her way back behind the countertop, I took a grimacing look at the sugary waffle abomination in front of me.
What the fuck is this shit?
Kate wandered over a moment later, rolling her eyes at some comment from the other booth. “How is it?”
I glanced up from the uneaten
plate.
“Send this thing back to Hell.”
She paused, but I noticed her stifle a small chuckle. “You wanted the best. Well, here’s the best. Eat up.”
“Kate, I haven’t seen you in years. Why are you playing games?”
“I told you, I don’t know you,” Kate hastily grunted. “Now, eat up, pay up, and piss off.”
Something snapped inside.
My shoulders sagged.
“Fine,” I answered, pulling out my wallet and slapping a ten-dollar bill on the table hard enough to make her jump. I pushed the plate back across the table.
She looked hurt for a moment, and I almost regretted my outburst. But then that veil fell over her soul again as she pursed her lips, glaring at me.
“Not hungry anymore, huh?”
I rose from the booth quickly, downing the rest of the lukewarm water. Standing up in front of Kate, I’d almost forgotten how much my presence overpowered her.
“Lost my appetite.”
When she had nothing else to say, I turned my back to the diner and let myself out. I was confused. Why bring Kate back into my life if she’s just going to shut me out?
I walked slowly round the back to where I’d parked my bike, my head spinning. I was starving now, more than ever… But the hunger inside me wasn’t just aching for food.
If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I can’t force it… Maybe I’ll give this another shot tomorrow night.
A few quick revs of the engine, and I was good to go. I knew the truth. I was going to ride away from this place and never come back. Maybe this wasn’t my goddamned destiny. Maybe Kate was put in my way to test my faith and make me stray from my true path.
I wanted to give one last bitter, forlorn glance to my old lover before she passed out of my life again – this time probably for good.
Bringing the bike around the side, I slowly rolled by the glass floor-to-ceiling windows.
What I saw happening inside chilled me to the bone.
Without a moment of hesitation, I killed the engine and put the kickstand back down. My boots quickly carried me back through the double doors of the diner, fueled by my need to save her.
How could I have been so fucking stupid…
Grizz
“Grizz, you need to leave right now!” Kate shouted as I came barreling through the door.
“So you do know that asshole!” The ringleader was shouting, tugging Kate by the hair. “You fucking lied to me!”
She was crying out in pain, and I saw her eyes meet mine in complete panic.
These men were drunk.
She was alone with them.
And they’d just made the biggest mistake of their fucking lives.
The lanky one turned sharply as I cut the distance between us.
It was too late for him.
My fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling across the diner floor. The punk was out like a light. The others tried to pounce on me, but I was too fast, moving between them in my furious lunge to their boss.
“I thought you fucking left–”
He released his grip on Kate just in time for me to deliver a blow to his beer gut, winding him on the spot.
One of the boys got a slight punch to my face, which really managed to piss me off. I turned my attention to the two I’d evaded, happy to see Kate dart behind the countertop.
“Where the fuck are the others?” I snapped to Kate. “Didn’t you have another waitress around? Kitchen staff? Manager on duty?”
“Just the three of us tonight!” I heard Kate yell from behind the counter. “Pretty sure the other two followed you out back on a smoke break.”
Sounds about right, I sighed.
While their boss was curled up on the ground the other two dipshits growled defensively at me, holding their ground.
They really were animals.
The stupid one made the first move. He was the biggest thug of them all, and I narrowly avoided a tackle that would have hit me like a goddamn freight train. As he crashed into tables behind me, I bore down on the short stocky one, scaring the ever loving shit out of him. He turned tail and bolted for the door, but I could already hear the big stupid one getting back to his feet.
“Get ‘em, Tread!” the ringleader wheezed up from the floor.
Tread?
Who the hell goes by ‘Tread’?
The thug followed the command, lunging forward. He was faster than a man that big should have been. We fumbled to the ground as he tried to get a few good blows in on my head, but I kept him back and managed to force a knee into his chest.
Prying him off and bashing his face against a booth table, I knocked him out of the brawl just in time to take a blow to the back. The stocky one had returned, grabbing a chair and only barely missing my head with the chair legs.
Grunting, I separated him from his weapon and slammed his chest hard straight through the swinging doors. Through the windows, I watched him tumble outside and hit his head on the concrete. This time he stayed down.
The ringleader rose, grabbing a plate from his table and shattering it against the counter. He darted forward with the makeshift blade, and I dodged as best I could. The prick got a lucky slash in, and my dominant hand came back wounded.
Fucker.
“Yeah, not so tough now, huh?” The asshole grunted loudly. “Looks like you bleed just like the rest of us.”
It was true. My hand hurt, and I felt warm blood trickling down it, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop me.
My thoughts lingered on the pistol in my leather jacket. I could probably get it out and lay this guy flat before he could make a move…
No, I thought to myself.
I won’t kill this man.
Thanks to my exploits with the marines and the Devil’s Dragons, too many bodies already followed in my wake. There was enough blood on my hands. I had no intentions of adding this backwater trash to the heap.
He wasn’t worth the fucking guilt.
I grabbed another plate and followed his example. Both armed with a jagged piece of ceramic, we found ourselves standing off in the weirdest fucking fight I’d ever heard of.
“What is your name?” I snarled.
“Mudflap,” he grinned stupidly.
“No, it’s Mark,” Kate retorted from cover. “Asshole thinks he’s a big boy, now that he and his asshole friends have joined a club.”
“I see,” I nodded. “Which club?”
“The Bayou Boys,” he sneered. “I see a patch on that stupid fucking jacket of yours. What bullshit gang are you from, nomad?”
Nomad. As if it were a fucking insult.
With a sense of pride, I answered him:
“The Devil’s Dragons.”
To my surprise, the asshole paused. “Those guys out west? With the Outlaws?”
Mudflap was talking about the large, loose group of rival motorcycle clubs, lawbreakers, and thugs that Hunter had whipped together in the desert. To call the Outlaws “reformed criminals” was a real stretch of the imagination, but they were the bad guys you turned to when a serious son of a bitch stepped on your turf.
I was surprised that anyone out here had ever heard of the Outlaws, let alone this prime piece of shit thug.
Sensing that there was a correct answer here, I simply replied: “Yes. Those Devil’s Dragons. How do you know about us?”
The jagged triangle of plate trembled in his hand. He looked torn, as if deciding between fight or flight. Just as I noticed the glint in his eye darken, the word fight stamped across his sneer…
A resounding thunk took him out of the fight. While Kate lowered the pot from behind him, Mudflap staggered forward, the makeshift blade dropping and shattering against the ground. He composed himself just in time for me to give him a solid punch to the skull.
Mudflap toppled over, but he was still conscious. I squatted down on him, putting a knee in his chest as I commanded:
“Keep the fuck out
of this diner,” I barked menacingly, “and never bother this waitress again. Do you understand me, asshole?”
“And what if I do?” he whimpered, choking for life beneath my knee.
“I’ll find you, and next time, I won’t be so fucking polite,” I warned him.
He lowered his head to the floor, eyes closing. I checked for a breath, and determined that he’d just passed out.
“Are you okay?” Kate turned to me, setting the pot down.
“Yeah,” I grumbled, looking at my hand. It was gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning. “Changed my mind. I’m hungry after all. I’ll take my big boy waffle now.”
Kate started laughing when a pair of startled gasps disrupted us. Turning to the kitchen, we spotted the other waitress with the cook, both frozen on the spot.
“Jesus, Kate! What the fuck happened out here?” She sputtered. “I left you alone for two fucking minutes! Clyde’s going to have a shit-fit when he hears about this!”
“Chloe?” Kate replied, exasperated.
“Yeah?”
“Eat a dick.”
I started to laugh, just in time to hear the movement behind me. Kate stared wide-eyed over my shoulder, and before I could react, the lumbering freight train of a fist connected with my head–
Kate
The last thing I’d expected on my way to work was to see my long-lost ex from my high school days walking into the joint.
Well, maybe second-to-last.
The last would have been him laying on my couch, in my shithole apartment, and me cleaning up his wounds like a combat medic.
The large, dopey jackass on Mark’s crew had woken up from the floor while Grizz’s guard was down. With a solid blow to the head, he’d knocked my surprise champion out like a light.
I returned the favor with the pot, but the damage was already done. Grizz got lucky on the way down – the scratches and cuts could have been worse.
He took little nap on the floor of the diner, waking up just in time to help with the police report. When he insisted on no hospitals, no rides, I’d reluctantly let him follow me back to my place on his motorcycle. I’d kept one eye on the rearview mirror just waiting for him to collapse and lay the bike out, but he held it together until he made it to the couch.
