Diner Impossible, page 26
“What do you see, Miss Strickland?”
I squirmed in my seat and finally crossed my legs. If I didn’t find a bathroom soon, this wouldn’t end well. “I see six cars parked on the opposite side of the street. The same cars that have been sitting here since we pulled up. Five cars in the parking lot. The windows to the bar are shuttered, and I can’t see what’s going on inside.” I glanced at the four-way stoplight in front of us. “Traffic’s moving slowly, but it’s six thirty on a Thursday evening so that’s not surprising.”
“Is that all?”
I banged my head against the back of the seat. “I’ve made a note of all the plate numbers from the cars in the lot. I’ve clocked eleven people entering the bar since we’ve been here—all on foot. No one’s exited in the last hour.”
“What should be our next course of action?”
“I can only speak for myself, but I’m going inside to use the restroom. If you have a problem with that, take it up with management.” I hopped out of the car before he could protest and jaywalked across the street.
A neighborhood watering hole, Ernie’s squatted in the middle of Huntingford’s south side business district and was only a five- minute hike from Huntingford General—where Ted Benson worked.
A fun fact about Huntingford, Missouri: people who depended on state aid went to General. Those with healthy bank accounts checked into its north side counterpart, Huntingford Memorial. That pretty much summed up my town in a nutshell. Wealthy citizens lived uptown, while the rest of us eked out a living south of Apple Tree Boulevard.
As I walked through the bar’s parking lot, I dodged potholes as big as moon craters. The remaining blacktop had melted into a gooey mess, leaving the soles of my flats tacky with tar. Good thing I wasn’t wearing kick-ass boots, now wasn’t it? That’s me, Rose Strickland, finder of silver linings.
I pulled open the glass door and stepped into the dim interior, taking a minute to stand in place and drink up the cool, dry air. I drew a few glances from the patrons before they quickly lost interest in me.
Lynyrd Skynyrd played over the speakers, almost drowning out the hum of voices, and flashing neon beer signs livened up the dingy walls. The after-work crowd from the hospital was here to represent. Men and women dressed in colorful scrubs sat at various tables and noshed on fried cheese sticks. My stomach growled in protest. That fortune cookie wasn’t cutting it.
A gaggle of mechanics, wearing grease-smeared t-shirts, sat at the bar and watched the ballgame on an ancient TV anchored to the ceiling. No big screen for Ernie’s.
As I scanned the place, I noticed my boy, Ted Benson, was MIA. I headed to the far side of the bar to make use of the facilities. And as I entered the small alcove, I shot a glance at the men’s room. I wanted to report back to Andre that I’d exhausted every possibility in my search for Ted, so I walked to the door and eased it open, taking a peek inside. Fortunately, the urinals were empty. Smelly, too. The floor…ugh. Why did men have such terrible aim? Was it really that hard to point and shoot?
The door to the only stall stood open. I looked inside, just to be thorough. No Ted.
He had to be out back, having a smoke or a breath of fresh air. His wife hadn’t mentioned a nicotine habit, but maybe he was hiding it. She seemed extremely health conscious. Was this Ted’s big secret? An occasional beer and cig? Mr. Vanilla—living on the edge.
After using the ladies’, I returned to the main room and spotted an exit near the pool table. Stepping outside, I glanced up and down the side street. There was no sign of him anywhere. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.
Damn it. Ted Benson had flown the freaking coop.
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Dispelled
They call me an abomination. A mutant. A curse on their kind.
I don’t let it bother me. Much.
My name is Holly James, and what they say is true. I’m a freak of nature—a null. My mere presence zaps the magic from Others, rendering them powerless. That’s why they hate me. But here’s the kicker: I’ve found a way to profit from my lack of mojo.
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His Every Need
Allie Campbell is determined to take care of her family, no matter the cost. But when her father loses their home to British tycoon Trevor Blake, Allie finds herself forced to plead for more time to pay off the loan...and if she has to use her own body as collateral, then so be it.
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Terri L. Austin, Diner Impossible
