"Yeah, and it's taken a couple of years off my life."
"You planned to go to Miami for spring break."
I smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks for bringing that up. Yeah, I planned to go, which involved meeting the bus at a certain time. But I didn't plan to hang out with a certain person or do a certain thing once I got there. I was wide open."
He forgot and rubbed his hand on the short hair at the back of his head. Then he remembered and put his hand down. "You're friends with Tiffany."
And thanks for bringing her up. "Not really."
"Weren't you talking with her on the phone last night? In the vehicle?"
"She's the only person I knew who was awake then." This was inaccurate, since even Tiffany and the paramedics had been asleep when I called. "But I'll let you in on one plan I've already made. I'm going to Rashad's party Saturday night."
He bit his bottom lip.
"And while I'm there, maybe you could ride around on patrol with Tiffany. You seem to get along really well with her."
We both backed away from the table as Purcell reached between us with tattooed arms, setting down our plates. I hadn't realized how far forward we'd both been leaning.
"Tiffany is cute," John called from the other side of the booth, which seemed like yelling across the Grand Canyon in comparison with how we'd talked before. "She's nice. Not sexy, if that's what you're insinuating."
I wanted to inform Officer After that I was not insinuating a damn thing about Tiffany. I was fishing for information about myself alone.
And now I wondered if he was insinuating that I was not cute, that I was not nice. Which I had gathered. Or that I was sexy.
Oh hell, what was the matter with me? He wasn't even looking at me. He was wolfing down his lunch.
I picked up my fork. "Why don't you ask for the night off so you can go to the party?"
He glanced up from his food. "I can't ask off to go to a college party."
"Why not?"
"People ask off to go to their wife's high school reunion or their son's wedding. They don't ask off to go to a college party."
"They're not nineteen years old. Everyone should be able to ask off for what's important to them." I gestured to his plate. "Whatcha got there? Steak and eggs with steamed vegetables? Very healthy. Protein and vitamins, a runner's meal. All it needs is a smoke. Too bad you've already had your nightly cigarette."
He half smiled at me, showing one dimple. "What have you got?"
"The Meg Special."
"Eggs?"
"Sort of a Tex-Mex omelet. The Meg Special is different every day." I took a bite, chewed, and desperately needed to spit it out. I swallowed it and washed it down with coffee, which didn't really help.
"Tasty?" John asked. "A little hot," I croaked. "Need some water?"
"I can't ask for water," I whispered. "I have to be careful how I fix this. If I piss Purcell off, God knows what he'll serve to people for the rest of the night." I motioned to Purcell, and he walked over from the grill. I smiled. "How much cayenne you using?"
"A half."
My Lord, half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper in two eggs. No wonder. "I like it, but it may be too spicy for the clientele. Let's try an eighth."
Purcell nodded curtly and started to turn away.
"Water, please," John called. He muttered to me, "Thirsty tonight."
Purcell brought John a glass of water. When Purcell went back to the grill, John nodded to the glass.
Watching Purcell out of the corner of my eye, I drank half the glass and slid it back to John. "Thanks," I breathed.
"Experimenting on the customers?"
"I told him an eighth before I left. He just forgot."
"Why don't you write it down?"
"He can't read." I took a huge bite of egg to get rid of it more quickly, then a swig of coffee and another long drink of John's water. "I try to work with him because he's a good employee. Shows up. My parents don't understand this."
"Are you going to stay here after high school and run the restaurant with them?' John took a bite of his blessedly mild food.
I laughed. "Hell no. I'm gone the night of June seventh, after graduation. I'm not even staying around for the party. And that's saying a lot, for me to pass up a party."
He swallowed. "You know this town so well. Better than I do, even. This place is yours. That's a really good reason to stay."
Funny, I'd never felt claustrophobic at the Elvis table before. I looked around the diner. Maybe it was the jukebox, humming low as it did when no one put in a quarter for a song. Maybe the low hum made me nervous.
But my gaze came to rest on John, and I knew he was making me nervous. Chatting to me like he was talking to a dead girl. Trying to trap me here.
I said quickly, "It's a better reason to leave."
"You don't feel any loyalty to your parents? Don't you want to stay here and help them out?"
"I've helped them out plenty. They make me work here, and they don't pay me. It's basically slave labor. Kind of like following you around."
He went back to eating like my snark didn't concern him. But he looked hurt. Those worry lines appeared between his eyebrows. I couldn't resist him when a little bit of boy showed through the tough exterior.
I lowered my voice. "They don't need my help. They just pretend to need my help so they can keep me close. They're overprotective. It'll drive you crazy. It honestly will."
"Overprotective, why?" he asked without looking up from his plate. "Only child?"
"Beats me. Anyway, they say they need me, but they don't. They'll hire somebody, just like they hired people to fill in this week while they're out of town." I took my last hell-bite.
"What if you leave and they go out of business? Won't you feel like it's your fault? Oh." He put down his fork. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's the pepper, John." I drained his water, then sniffed and dabbed at my eyes with a paper napkin from the holder. "Of course I won't feel like it's my fault. It's the biggest kindness I can do them. If they can't run a restaurant by themselves, they need to go back to selling vinyl siding. I can't do it for them. We'd always be dependent on each other and always unhappy, feeling pressured and letting each other down."
"Mmph. What are you going to do when you grow up, then?"
I glared at him. "Nice. I got a tuition scholarship to UAB."
He put his fork down again. " You? Got a scholarship?