The Diner by Jo Cameron-Symes

I'd been driving all night on Highway 67. The sun was coming up and the heat haze was turning the horizon to water. Seeing a neon diner sign, I decided to stop. The parking lot was deserted save for a rusty old Buick and a green Mustang.

I stepped out of the car into the searing desert heat then wiped the sweat off my neck. I entered the cool air-conditioned diner. My shirt stuck to my back and I shivered. The jukebox was blaring out the strident tones of some goddam awful doowop song. The fake cheerfulness of the song contrasted deeply with the eeriness of the deserted diner. I ignored the sign that said ‘Wait to be seated,’ at the front and sat down in a booth. I figured that it being this deserted, there would be no need for such decorum, but I was wrong.

"Hey Mister," a bored bubble-gum chewing waitress came over to berate me.

I looked up at her. "Can't you read?" she said, arms crossed with a severe expression on her cheerleader perfect face. Blonde waves cascaded either side of her perfect head. I just looked at her and pointed to the coffee pot on the side. She scowled and walked away then came back with the coffee and almost threw it down on the table, the contents sloshing at the sides. The coffee was always hot in these kind of places, it was also free and refills were obligatory. Though I seemed to have pissed her off, so maybe my case would be the exception.

"Ed!" I could hear her screeching out back. "Some idiot guy is out there, he just walked God darn right into the service area like he owned the place! Didn't stop or nothin!"

"Gee, Sal, that's real bad," he replied in a laconic drawl.

"Ain't it just!"

There was silence.

She sighed. "Alright, don't look at me like that. I'll take his order then hopefully he'll get the hell outta here and leave us in peace!"

Just what kind of place was this? A diner that longs to be empty? I'd never come across such a thing.
I looked up and saw her by my side, notepad in hand waiting for my order.

"What'll it be Mister? There's a special on pancakes. You can get them with hot cherries and maple syrup."

I looked up at her noticing the bead of moisture above her top lip. How could she be warm in here? It's not even as if the kitchen would be hot as no one else was here to make an order. Perhaps she was nervous? She took my examination of her as an affirmative for the special. "Right, pancakes it'll be then. Coming right up," she said then hurried back to short order cook Ed in the kitchen.

"That guy out there, Ed. He gives me the creeps," she said.

Ed walked over to the hatch and peered through. He was a man in his late forties with greasy grey hair and bad pock marked skin. Our eyes met briefly then he went back to his work pouring batter from a bowl.

"Nah, the fella's harmless, Sal," he said. "You've been watching too many of those movies."

"I have not! " she protested. "Well if he murders me and they can't find the body, you'll be to blame! I’m taking a cigarette break!” she said as she flounced off past the kitchen out the back door. Ed just tutted and continued cooking.

I sighed and kicked my heels to the back of the booth and heard a clang. Mystified, I reached under the table to find a gun. It was a pistol with a wide barrel. There was something sticking out of its nose. I reached inside to find a small piece of folded paper. 'Don't try to find me,' it said. I examined it and found there was one bullet missing and five left. I heard Sal come back out of the kitchen with my food, so I hurriedly hid the gun in my pocket.

"There ya go," she said as she plonked the food down then walked away.

I began to eat my pancakes which were surprisingly good. A long black sedan left the highway and drive into the parking lot. I saw Sal look out of the window then run to the kitchen clearly unnerved.

"The Boss is here, Ed! You didn't tell me he was visiting today! What the hell’s he doing here in Collier’s Creek?!”

" I din't know he was, Sal. Give me a break, Hon!”

"Ugh," she scowled in anger. She took her apron off, rolled it up and threw it into the corner of the nearest booth. She ran her fingers through her hair and clasped her hands together. I could see that they were shaking. Was she frightened or excited? I couldn’t tell.

I looked at the car, wondering just who was the owner of this strange diner? The front car door opened and a large man in a suit and hat stepped out. He walked around to the rear car door and opened it. The interior of the car was like a huge black hole in the desert. It was impossible to see who or what was inside. The driver stepped away and a silver topped cane cracked down in the parking lot. Sal gasped and a shiver ran through me. This wasn't good. Not good at all.