Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  Karen opened her mouth to speak but instead started coughing. When she finally found her voice, she pointed a shaky finger back at the park. "Did you? Did you see that? Did you see the wolf?" Her wet resumes fell from her hand to the pavement and landed with a sloppy thud.

  "A wolf? In Central Park?" the woman asked her. She laughed and shook her head.

  "Or something," Karen exclaimed. "There was something in there and it attacked me."

  The woman cocked her head to the side and studied Karen from head to toe and back again. Karen felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She thinks I'm insane, Karen realized. The woman bent down and picked up Karen's soggy resumes, she let them drip onto the sidewalk before shaking them out to read the headline. After being rolled up, used as weapons and soaked through, the only thing readable was the headline. "Are you looking for a job?" she asked, "I have one for you."

  "I'm- I'm..."

  "Here, take my card." The card pressed into Karen's hand was soon stained by the blood from the gash on her arm. It no longer flowed freely but her hand was covered in it. She absentmindedly wiped it on her wet jacket before reading the card. Dead End Diner. When she looked up again the woman was gone. She hadn't heard her walk away, and whipping her head around looking for her on the streets, she couldn't see her either. It was as if she had just disappeared into thin air.

  "Odd," Karen mumbled. She would have thanked her. Not that there was any chance she was going to accept a job offer from a stranger on the street. Not in this city, no way. She threw the card away, it landed neatly in a little puddle on the sidewalk. She didn't want to work in a diner anyway.

  She cast a glance into the dark park. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, maybe there never was a wolf, maybe her overactive imagination had conjured it all up. Even though her injuries proved differently, she found herself desperately wanting to believe that. But then a low growl, carried on the wind, reached her. Imagination or not, her legs couldn't run home fast enough.

  She crisscrossed across the city and reached her building. After seven sets of stairs, she was finally able to shut her door behind her and click the lock. Safe. Exhaling in relief she leaned against the door, her heavy head falling against the wood. But quickly shot up when her sore back started complaining. "Colin?" she called, breathlessly.

  "In here.” The apartment they shared was the smallest Karen had ever been in and it was starting to get on her nerves. She was standing in the small kitchen, the door to her left led into a tiny bathroom, and the door on the other side of the kitchen led into the bedroom. That was it. Nothing else. But at least it was theirs, their own space. Their own little love nest, as her sister put it. Karen grimaced, it didn't quite fit. The place was a dump, the building old and run down. Sometimes she thought she could hear rats in the walls. She lived in hope that one day soon they would be able to find something better.

  Colin was in the bedroom, sprawled on the bed watching the old tv they had perched on an ancient wooden crate. He had his hand down his pants and his shoes on the bedspread, even though Karen had repeatedly asked him not to do that. She couldn't get into that at that moment. "You're not going to believe what happened to me," she breathed.

  "Oh yeah, what?" he asked not looking up from the tv. Karen stepped in front of it, blocking his view. "What the hell happened to you?" he blurted out when he saw her bedraggled state.

  "I was attacked!" Karen yelled, "In the park! By a- a- a wolf like creature, like a werewolf!"

  "A werewolf?" Colin suppressed a laugh, shifting into a sitting position. "Really? Are you sure it wasn't just a dog?"

  "Do I look like I was attacked by a dog?"

  "You do actually," Colin said craning his neck, trying to see around her. "Are you hurt?" he mumbled, “People need to keep their dogs on leashes, it's obviously not safe walking around there."

  "Colin, listen to me," Karen growled, anger poked out its ugly head and she was out of patience, "I was attacked by a large wolf, a very large wolf."

  "Those annoying Manhattan wolves," Colin added and snorted with a laugh.

  "Colin, look at me." Karen spread her arms wide, showing off her torn clothes and bloody hand. She lifted her shirt to show the bruises on her back.

  Colin sighed and gave her a dull look. “You do actually look kind of hurt. Do you want to go to the doctor?" he asked.

  Karen scoffed at him. She debated with herself if she should, but really, all she wanted to do was shower and sleep. "No," she eventually said. And comfort, she wanted comfort. She was still shaken and scared. She wanted her boyfriend to comfort her. But Colin just laid back down, grabbing the remote at his side.

  "Well then," he said. With an annoyed sigh, Karen walked out the door into the kitchen, peeling off the wet clothes layer by soaked layer. "Did you find a job today?" Colin yelled after her.

  Karen left her wet clothes in a pile on the kitchen floor. She needed a cigarette, but when she took the packet out of her wet bag, she realized it was all soggy and ruined as well. And then it hit her, the strange woman had taken her soggy resumes. What would that lunatic want her ruined resumes for? Fucking great, Karen thought, Now I'm going to have to print more. "No," was Karen's defeated, delayed answer.

  The light flickered in the bathroom when she turned it on, the bulb would break soon. She huffed at her reflection in the cracked mirror, her mascara and eyeliner had run down her face, she looked awful. The gash on her arm wasn't so bad once she had run it under the tap for a bit, but her back was beginning to bruise and there were three small, clean cuts across her stomach.

  "You are going to have to start working soon," Colin said, appearing in the door, "I can't keep paying the rent alone."

  Karen nodded and hung her head low. She knew. They were lucky to have this place, it was a shithole of an apartment but at least they could pay the rent out of Colin's paycheck. Only they had practically nothing left over for them at the end of the month. It couldn't last. "I know," she said. She felt tears pressing on, she despised crying and tried to blink them away.

  "Oh, poor babe," Colin soothed and patted her on her back. Karen winced at the pain. "There, there, you'll find a job soon, don't worry." Karen would have fumed at the words if she had had the energy. She had just survived an attack from a wolf, a job was the last thing on her mind. Karen turned around and wrapped her arms around him, badly needing a loving embrace. But what she got was a quick hug before he unwrapped her arms again, he then took her chin in his hand. "I already ate," he informed her. Turning his attention to his own reflection, he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

  She would get no more comfort from him that night, she knew. They had been on separate pages for a while. Money issues and lack of personal space had probably driven a little wedge between them. The faster she got a job the better, then their relationship could get back to normal again. But her eyes burned, she still wanted to cry. She had to change the subject. She sniffled. "I like your cologne," she offered, "Is it new?"

  "Nah, it was just a gift." He shrugged dismissively and walked into the kitchen. "Now, instant noodles or cup-a-soup?" he yelled to her. She could hear him fill a pot with water and placed it on the stove.

  "Neither," she answered. She wasn't hungry, she couldn't possibly eat now.

  "You need your strength," he insisted, "If you're going out to get a job tomorrow. I'll put some noodles on for you.”

  Karen growled to herself. She shut the door and let a few hot tears roll down her cheek. This day had been too much for her. Everything had just been too much. And she wasn't even sure exactly what had happened either. She wiped away the tears and bit her lip, forcing them to stop. Shaking her head clear, after a deep, calming breath, she turned on the shower, letting it run, hoping it wouldn't take too long for the hot water for once. And then, on the side of the sink, next to Colin's hair gel and grooming kit, she noticed a little, oddly familiar, black and red card. She picked it up. "Dead End Diner," she read out loud, "I thought I got rid of
this."

  "I'm going to bed," she heard Colin yell from the bedroom. She ignored him.

  "I wonder what they're actually looking for," Karen mumbled to herself. She turned over the card. On the blank back waitstaff needed was scribbled in hand and she was pretty sure it hadn't been on the card when she first got it. "Well, that answers that."

  Maybe she should check this place out anyway? A job's a job, after all. She could be a waitress. She glanced at her reflection again and gave a wry half-smile. She could definitely be a waitress. How hard could it be?

  Two.

  "Do you feel that, babe?" Colin moaned in her ear. "Does it feel good?" With his eyes firmly shut, he screwed up his face in an expression Karen always hoped was of pleasure, while he thrust. She didn't answer him, he didn't need one, he was in his own world.

  Karen was anything but awake. She hadn't slept well, dreams of wolves chasing her around the streets kept her tossing and turning. The last time she looked at her phone it was half past three, then she heard Colin's alarm go off at six but pretended not to. And when Colin shook her awake wanting a morning quickie, she had rolled over on her back for him. She was really just lying there waiting for him to finish so she could go back to sleep.

  "Oh yeah, here we go," he grunted and started to thrust faster. Grabbing her breasts and squeezing them tight, he licked in between them. Inwardly, Karen groaned in annoyance, she always hated when he did that, leaving behind slobber between her breasts.

  Karen swallowed a yawn. She should help him out, make it go just a little faster. Sleep beckoned her back. "That feels amazing, babe," she said, although lacking in enthusiasm it was the most praise she could muster up that morning. "Fuck me harder, please," she continued while rubbing her sleepy eyes. She tried thinking back to the beginning, back to when they had first started sleeping together. There must have been a time when she really enjoyed him, a time when their lovemaking wasn't such a chore. Maybe before they moved in together. And maybe if they took the time occasionally to really focus on each other it would be better, but these days every encounter with his penis was a quick morning fuck.

  "Fuck, babe. I'm coming," Colin managed to stutter before he shuddered and clutched at her breasts as though they were handlebars. And he was done. Standing up, he sighed contently and pulled off the condom. "That was good."

  "Yeah, amazing," Karen muttered and rolled on to her side, discreetly wiping the spit off her breasts with the sheets.

  "Have you gained weight?" he asked as he pulled on his underwear.

  "Excuse me?" Karen opened one eye and glared up at him.

  Colin slapped her ass with an apologetic chuckle. "I don't know, your ass seems bigger. Rounder, maybe.”

  "Thanks?"

  He shrugged, pulled out a blue shirt from their closet and stood in front of the mirror, trying to see if the color would suit his pants. "When you get a job, we should look into getting a gym membership. Anna, my boss, swears by the gym close to work. She says it's the best. We should join." Karen buried her head in the pillow. He could not be serious, waking her up this early only for a quick fuck and gym talk. "It's better than staying in bed all day," Colin continued. Karen groaned into the mattress, shutting her eyes tight, wishing he would just leave so she could sleep.

  And apparently, he did. When she opened her eyes again and shoved the pillow aside, the apartment was empty. Colin had gone and her phone told her it was an hour later. She checked it for messages. Maybe someone, anyone at all, had gotten back to her about a job. But no. Of course not. Why did she even bother? She fell back down on the bed and sighed heavily. She knew Colin was right, annoyingly, she couldn't stay in bed all day.

  Grudgingly, she got up and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets but found no food. Big surprise, she thought to herself. She felt a little guilty for not doing any grocery shopping lately, but mostly she was just annoyed that no food had magically appeared overnight. She tripped over the dirty pile of wet clothes from last night, then scoffed at it as if it had attacked her and not the other way around. There was no point trying to salvage it, it was beyond repair. Her most professional-looking outfit was trash on the floor. Great. Instead, she pulled out her last pair of black jeans, the only ones she had left that weren't ripped at the knees, and an old, gray sweatshirt. That would have to do.

  Skipping down the flight of stairs in her ancient, beat up converse and a plaid flannel shirt as a makeshift jacket, she looked more like a student, not someone looking for serious work. It didn't matter. She needed food, coffee, and a cigarette. In that order. The coffee shop down the street would do and she soon had a steamy cup of black goodness in her hand and, just to spite Colin, a sugary donut in the other. Lighting her cigarette, after inhaling the donut as if she hadn't eaten in days, she let her feet take her for a walk.

  The streets were busy. They always were, but today even more so. She kept choosing the lesser populated ones, and soon found herself on a street she had never been before. There were no shops or cafés there, the buildings even looked abandoned. It was so narrow the sun never touched the filthy pavement between the brick walls. It was drenched in eternal shadows. She turned around, but people were walking past it like the street didn't even exist, like it was just another alleyway. Which it could very well pass for. Dumpsters had been thrown up against the brickwork, seemingly at random, trash littered the cracked asphalt, twirling in the gusts of wind that hit her in the face, a few lights lined the street, but they were bent, and she would have been very surprised if they worked at all. No, this was not the kind of street she wanted to walk down. No, thank you.

  She buried her hands in her pockets, about to turn around and walk out in the sunlight again. But then, her right hand found something in her pocket that shouldn't be there. She pulled it out. A nice little black card with the words Dead End Diner printed in bright red letters. She almost dropped it as if it had burned her. She hadn't worn these pants in at least a month, how did it get there? She looked up at the street sign above her, Void St. And down on the card. Void St. No way. This wasn't happening. She hadn't even been aware that New York had a Void St. She looked down the dark, dirty street, and there, deep in the shadows at the end, a red flashing neon sign, that she knew hadn't been there just before, spelled out Dead End Diner.

  "What the actual fuck," she whispered. She took one curious step closer, then another. And then another. Before she knew it, she was swallowed up by the darkness walking towards the diner. It fit in perfectly, it looked completely abandoned, and crushed in between two taller buildings that overshadowed it. The windows were covered with hastily hammered up planks, and the few places she could see a piece of glass pane, they were either broken or so dirty and dusty you couldn't see through. The brickwork was cracked and looked as if it was crumbling away. When she reached the entrance, the glass in the large door appeared to be held together with duct tape, and like the windows, it was caked with filth so thick it was impossible to look through. The neon sign above the door flashed a few more times, buzzed and flickered loudly, before dying out.

  The sign hanging behind the door said Open, but then again, the chain had snapped in one side and it was hanging upside down. "So, I guess... It's open?" She didn't want to walk inside. She didn't even want to touch the rusty doorknob. But then she chuckled at herself and shook her head. What was she thinking? This place was obviously abandoned, and she was actually standing there scared of going in? What an idiot she was. She shook her head again and pulled out a cigarette from her back pocket, lit it and laughed softly to herself.

  But before Karen could turn and walk away, the door to the diner was torn open, making her stumble back in surprise. The man, who had been about to exit the place, stopped in his tracks as if he too had been caught out with their encounter. He was tall, much taller than anyone Karen knew, practically filling the doorway with his head scraping the frame and his incredibly wide shoulders. He huffed at her, regaining his composure, his black brows knotted
together in deep thought. Impossibly brown eyes watched her, annoyance flashed over his face. A woolen beanie had been pulled down over his hair, hair dreaded in long, thick locks, hair so black it almost sucked light right out of the air. When she took in the sight of the long scar under his right eye, she tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, but the thick scar that cleaved his left eyebrow in two soon claimed her attention. And that only made it worse.

  Great, I am on a dark, deserted street with what looks like a murderer! She wanted to flee, but couldn't move. He did have that look of a murderer, she decided. His long, brown coat was tattered and torn, with large stains that she really didn't want to know what were. Heavy, muddy boots gave an impatiently stomp on the door frame when she didn't move out of his way immediately. Thick fingers scratched the tan skin over his cheekbone, and all Karen could focus on was his dirty fingernails. Surely that couldn't be blood under them. That had to be her imagination playing up again. Suddenly the stains on his coat were impossible to overlook. And then she really wanted to run. Desperately so. But before she could he cleared his throat with a deep rumble. "That's a really bad habit," he said, motioning to the cigarette in her hand, that was busily burning away as she just stood there. "You should quit," he added. His voice was as dark as him, deep and rough, and as hard as she tried, she could not place the accent at all. So very foreign.

  “I- Uhm-" was all she was able to get out. She felt dumb, her ability to form a sentence had been ripped from her head. His comment had thrown her a little. He made her incredibly uneasy but for the strangest reason she suddenly, unexpectedly, didn't want to run from him. All she could do was stand there, wide-eyed and stare. Embarrassing herself completely, she regrettably acknowledged, but unable to stop.

  With a sigh and an eye-roll, the man eventually grew tired of being stared at. Pushing past her without waiting for her to move, he stalked down the street, his coat whipping behind him until he ducked out into the blinding sunlight.