After Seven P.M.

Sitting in the booth at the back of the diner is uncomfortable. The smell of the deep fried, greasy food makes my stomach turn. I look at my watch. Hopefully, dinner with Megan won’t last terribly long. The problem is, in order for this meal to move along at a decent pace, Megan has to be here. As of yet, she hasn’t shown up. She gets five more minutes, then I blow this joint. I’ve got five days left. I can’t afford to waste it on her. Especially since I don’t even know who she really is.

I light up a cigarette, pulling dirty looks from the obvious out-of-towners. I’m counting down the seconds to my departure. I have shit to do. Megan walks through the door when I have ten seconds left on the countdown. She slides into the booth across from me. Dammit. I wish she hadn’t shown.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes. My inborn paranoia kicks into overdrive. Was she with Bruiser? I push the thought aside. If I want to get the dirt on this broad, I have to be open minded. Otherwise I’m just going to be answering any questions I have with falsified information I make up to justify myself. I have to make sure that this is legit. The waitress comes to the table.

“Could we have just a few more minutes?” Megan asks. The waitress is irritated by her request and she doesn’t even try to hide it. In a diner like this one, she doesn’t have to. All she wants to do is to take our order and get us the hell out of here so she can get the next set of bodies in the door. She just wants to collect her tips and go home. I can’t blame her. This must be a pretty miserable job. She sighs, nods her head, and walks back to the kitchen.

Megan is calm and quiet as she looks over the menu. For some reason, this really pisses me off. I want to stand up and shake her until she lets slip why she’s using a fake name. I want to slap her around, make her tell me who she really is, what her agenda is. I don’t. I can’t. For all I know, Chenille has gotten me on edge about nothing whatsoever.

“Where were you?”

“I got held up at work,” she responds, without even looking up from the menu. I don’t even know what she does for a living. It hasn’t come up. I’m about to ask, but before I can, she sets her menu down. “I’m going to get the skillet. What about you?”

I shake my head. “I’m not all that hungry. I’ll stick with the crackers.”

“I was thinking today,” she says, scanning the restaurant for the waitress.

“Yeah?” I bite my tongue so as not to tell her that I was thinking too. All I’ve been doing is thinking. Far too goddamned much.

“About us.” When you start a sentence like that, it can only go one of two ways. She’s perked my interest. Which way is this one gonna go? She sips her water. “Where do you see this going?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I lean forward, honestly interested in what she has to say, waiting for her to let slip. I rest my forearms on the table.

“I’m not really sure what we have going here.” She searches for the correct words to help her along. I can see which direction this is heading and I try to steer her in the direction I want it to go.

“I think that we need to know each other a little better before we can figure that out,” I tell her. “I barely know anything about you. Aside from the fact that you and my sister went to high school together, you’re a total stranger to me.” She opens her mouth to respond and my phone rings. Perfect timing. I hold up a finger.

“I have to take this.” I open the phone and place it to my ear, ignoring the icy stare that Megan shoots at me. “Yeah?”

“I got a lead on Maise.” It’s Chenille. She doesn’t waste any time.

“Good to hear from you. No . . . I was just having dinner . . . with a friend.” I hope that Chenille can pick up on the overtones.

She’s just as good as I suspected. “Do you want me to call you back?”

“No, that’s fine . . . what’s going on?”

“I’ll lay it out quick and easy for you,” Chenille says. “Maise was seen a couple of nights ago just north of here. A place called Forest Heights. Do you know the area?”

“Yep.” Of course I know Forest Heights. I know it all too well.

“She’s still hooking.” I could’ve guessed that one.

“Do we know who?” This conversation has to end. I have a truckload of questions I want to ask, but any questions I have after this point are going to have to get more in-depth. That’s something I can’t deal with in the present company. Thankfully, Chenille and I have had several of these conversations over the years, so she speaks my language.

“I couldn’t get the name of who she’s working for. I can delve in a bit deeper, but it’s going to take a bit of time.”

“No, I’ll take care of it. You gotta get back to working on that other thing.” I hang up the phone and stand up from the booth. “I gotta take care of an emergency at work.” Thankfully, Megan knows as much about me as I do about her.

Megan shakes her head. “You’re leaving?”

I nod and slap a fifty on the table. “That should take care of the meal.” Megan stares at me as I walk past her and out the front door of the restaurant without another word. I can feel her glare tear through me as I exit. I no longer care. I don’t have any more time that I can waste. I need to get some answers.