Notes from the road pt 2

 

 

I was enjoying a small bowl of stew and Bran was shielding a coffee with his slab like hands in a diner on the outskirts of Calamityville.

 

It was a low class, low rent diner where the food wasn't particularly good but it was mostly quiet with four other customers dotted around its fake - fifties interior. The not entirely ugly waitress couldn't have been a day older than twenty five but she already looked like her best days were well behind her. The makeup was so heavily plastered onto her heavy skin that it was impossible to see any detail behind it. Instead of the flawless look she was aiming for, it actually gave the impression of a badly plastered wall. That combined with the beetle red lipstick gave such an unappetising impression that if I hadn't been so hungry I probably wouldn't have eaten anything.

 

She had a small suitor, a lad of fifteen or so who was obviously struck by her judging from the milkshake after milkshake he was ordering. He would get her attention, attempt some offhand remark then lose his nerve and order another stammering strawberry milkshake. The empties surrounding his table were a silent testimony to his continuing cowardice.

 

In the far corner a couple were almost coupling together, decency almost forgotten in their desperation to possess each other. only the occasional look from the waitress would dampen their ardour.

 

"They could at least find a room," I said to my gigantic companion.

 

"Love obeys no known laws," he replied.

 

"I didn't mean from a legal standpoint," I said, again put on the back foot by his previously hitherto unexplored knowledge of Opera. "I just meant in our currently single situation I don't really feel like being reminded of what I'm missing out on."

 

Bran looked at me deeply and returned to his paper. It was just then I became aware of a disturbance from outside the diner making its way in through the sun shielded doors.

 

Two good ole boys, Tall and Short, crashed in whooping and hollering carrying a holdall, obviously the wrong side of several Miller High Life's.

 

"Beers for everyone!" the taller of the two shouted slapping his buddy on the back. "That's right everyone! You can thank me later," he continued, "Or buy me one back."

 

No one jumped to praise him but I could sense Bran tensing up behind his paper. No stranger to trouble he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to brewing storms although in this situation my own much less sensitive danger radar was going off.

 

They took two stools at the bar next to The Milkshake Kid who looked distinctly uncomfortable as the waitress leaned across and murmured something to the two intruders.

 

"What's that sweet cheeks? You'll have to speak up." Said Tall.

 

She repeated her murmur.

 

"What?"

 

"Murmur."

 

"What!?"

 

"We! Don't! Serve! Beer! This is a diner!"

 

"You, don't, serve, beer? What kind of a place is this?"

 

The couple in the corner tried to make their exit as quietly as possible.
 
"Don't serve beer!" continued Tall "Is that why you guys are leaving? Well goodbye now!"

 

"Y'all come again y'hear?" said Short.

 

The couple made their embarrassed way to the car but at least they were free.

 

"No beer Hunh? said Tall reaching into the holdall. "Well it's lucky we brought our own!" He popped the tops on a couple of bottles and gave one to Short and drained one himself.

 

"You can't do that in here!" shouted the waitress fearing for her job more than for annoying these less than honourable fellows.

 

"And who, exactly, are you to tell us what we can and cannot do," he looked down at her lapel "Charlene?"

 

His gaze lingered on her chest for long seconds until finally her juvenile would-be white knight broke the deadlock.

 

"Leave her a.a.a.alone!" he shouted. Unfortunately his voice broke halfway through the sentence which then dissolved into a stammering frenzy.

 

Tall and Short shared a glance and then started laughing fit to burst. I made a move to stand when I felt a weight on my wrist. Bran had his hand on my arm but his eyes were fixed on Tall.

 

"Wait," was all he said.

 

They stopped laughing.

 

"What the hell do you think you're doing boy?" Tall turned and started pushing The Kid backwards, jabbing him in the stomach with every word. Short kept on grinning. "Didn't your Daddy ever teach you to mind your own goddamn business and leave the adult stuff to us grown ups?"

 

He backed the boy up so he was parallel with our table and then just at the height of the tension, the boys' stomach gave up under the assault of nerves and prodding fingers and catapulted the 13 strawberry milkshakes all over his would-be assailant.

 

Before anyone else could react, Bran, in one sweeping movement pushed the kid backwards and Tall forwards away from each other. He kicked Tall in the groin and laid out Short who was still whooping with laughter in his chair.

 

He walked back to our table, picked up his paper, slung the comatose kid over one shoulder and walked out the door. I followed throwing a twenty on the counter and advising Charlene to phone the Sheriff.

 

We dropped the kid off at his house on our way out of town and I'm sure he felt so bad he swore off milkshakes for life.

 

But not waitresses if I'm any judge.