Slow Day
Desert sand blew across the land lazily while one or two dust devils traveled from one spot to another. The long, beat up, stretch of highway which would usually be busy with big rigs, vans, or station wagons traveling cross-country was abnormally quiet. In the past hours only one or two cars traveled down it with both stopping at the same diner on the side of the road.
Big Chubb's Diner sat alone in the middle of the largest part of the Arizona desert. While plain looking from the outside, inside was bright with its red and dominant white coloring. The outside of the large bay windows barely showed what was inside with all the caked on dirt covering them.
Connected to the diner sat a small two bay garage named Crossroads. It was in the same condition as the diner with the only difference being the three foot wide tinted window next to one of the bay doors. Gas pumps sat outside with a lone diesel pump several yards away, making a total of three fuel pumps and all. Aside from the building, several vehicles were parked out front with another occupying one of the garage bays that also served as a bed to the man who owned it.
Giving a forceful yawn and stretch, a man slowly climbed out of the bed of his truck. His pants had fallen below his waist last night but were of no concern as the first thing he did was let them fall to the floor and climbed into one of the stalls usually reserved for truck drivers. But since he owned it, he could do whatever he wanted. Within the confines of his garage that is. It was the only indoor area that could be called dirty simply from the oil stains on the floor. Other than that, tools and equipment hung in neat order on the walls or were lined up against them.
Inside the diner, the smell of bacon, coffee, and eggs was in the air. The few early morning truckers that were there had already cleared out with the exception for an African American man heading to the restroom while his food was being cooked. Other than him, only the owner, who also served as a short order cook, and a young waitress were all there was.
"Hey DB, how long till the truckers food is done?" The diner's waitress, whose name tag read Megan, balanced a tower of plates, cups, and silverware from a just emptied table to ready them for washing. Several years of waiting tables for a meager living had made her a pro at the "balancing act."
"Just finishing up his eggs," DB told her. Then mumbled under his breath, "Why can't they ever order scrambled?"
As Megan ventured passed the grill and into the washing area, the man from the garage entered the diner from a side door. Now, wearing oil stained blue-gray coveralls, he took a seat in a booth, the same booth he always sat in for his meals. As if the table was reserved only for him, a piping hot cup of coffee set prepared the way he liked it, three sugars and a spoonful of milk.
"Want your usual Ricardo?" asked DB as he plopped the truckers order on a plate.
"Yeah, that'll do." As Ricardo drank from his cup, he looked out the Bay window to his left. Not a single vehicle drove past, which was odd for it being close to seven in the morning.
"Hey DB," he said as the cook placed the plate on the table one booth over. "Has anyone been here yet?"
"Who are you expecting?"
"I was on the radio last night with a trucker out of Utah who said he was gonna stop in for a blown tire."
DB wiped his hand on a towel hanging from his apron pocket then took a seat. His balding head shined with sweat from the hot grill. "No one besides the gentleman in the restroom. Was it serious?"
"Nah, but just seems a little strange with no one out is all."
"Yeah. Hope it picks up. I got a wife to feed back home."
Ricardo looked up at DB with a cocked eyebrow. "DB, you have a dog, not a wife."
"Dog's a bitch. And she knows how to nag when I don't feed her."
"(Tisk) funny," Ricardo said taking another drink.
"Well, I'll go get your food ready. You are one of my best customers. Since everything is on the house," DB said as he stood and slapped Ricardo's shoulder.
"And I appreciated it."
"As long as you help keep the equipment running, it's all good."
As DB went to the grill to start Ricardo's breakfast, Megan came from the back. She still had on her yellow dishwashing gloves and gave a friendly wave to Ricardo. She was about to say something when an Italian sports car pulled into a parking space, almost hitting a beat up tan pick up that had arrived just a moment ago. Those inside could hear the pickup's driver yell an obscenity of the sports car owner who was passing the blame back on to him.
"What an ass," Megan said.
"You're going to have to wait on that ass," DB told her.
"Damn."
Ricardo couldn't help but smile slyly at Megan's misfortune. He couldn't help but smile whenever Megan was around actually. Even in her light mauve and white waitress uniform, she still looked good. It hugged the curves of her athletic body nicely and she never needed makeup.
"Ricardo," Megan called. "Ricardo." She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Gotcha food sweetie."
"Thanks."
No sooner had she placed his food on the table when the guy from the sports car came into the diner. Dressed in a flawless white suit, he ignored everyone except Megan only adjuster after he plopped down in a booth.
"Okay, toots, all take an Avian with a third of a lime, eggs over easy, and gluten-free toast."
Megan looked at the finely dressed man and then over at DB. "You hear that? He wants in Avian?'
DB and Ricardo only laughed.
"You get tap. That's all we have."
"Tap, as in tap your ass?"
"Tap as in water. Like the kind I won't hesitate to bring to boil and burn your dick off with." Megan turned and gave DB the man's order slip with a side note that read, "Please let me kill him.' on it.
"Hey, grease monkey," he addressed Ricardo. "She always like that? Does she like cocks or is she a pussy muncher?"
Ricardo only glared at him while chewing the bite of biscuit and gravy in his mouth.
"Shit. Leave it to me to get lost and get a dyke for waitress and an illegal alien who doesn't know English." He shifted his posture in the booth and slowly but loudly spoke to Ricardo. "Can you fill up my gas tank? It takes premium only. Do it and there may be a shiny Peso in it for you."
With the clatter of this work hitting the table and the customer's verbal assault, DB and Megan waited on pins and needles for Ricardo's response but were surprised when he didn't give one. Instead, he stood quietly and went back to his garage. Shortly after, the diner door opened and in stepped the driver from the pickup.
"Ah, if it isn't my redneck friend," the man in white said.
"Listen to me you damn bastard…" the pickup driver began.
"Chuck!" DB yelled.
"Where the hell…"
"Chuck!"
"What?" He turned to eye DB who was yelling his name.
"Chuck huh?" the sharp dressed man said. "I'm Christopher."
"I don't give a damn who you are. You come close to hitting me again and…"
"Chuck,,. Let's sit down and get your belly fed." Megan guided him over to barstool before the main counter in front of the grill. "Grits and eggs?"
"Grits and eggs," she told her.
"DB can you…"
"Go, I got this." DB slid fresh cooked eggs onto a plate alongside some toast and went over to Christopher as Megan went into the garage.
She was surprised that the two bay doors weren't open it, making for a very dark environment with only the light from the small window coming in. The smell of grease was in the air as she looked for Ricardo and found him in a storage room sitting on a table in front of a large display of military memorabilia. His picture hung below a United States Marine symbol with the American flag draped beside it. Medals hung proudly on the wall alongside his dog tags as well as clippings from papers about him and his squadron.
"You okay?" Megan asked.
"Yeah. Just hate it when the dumb assess come in."
She placed a hand on his shoulder and flexed her fingers slightly. "It took a lot for you to ignore him, didn't it?"
He inhaled the next held heavily. "Yeah, well, I'm not gonna lose it again. Not after last time."
"The way you kicked those bikers asses for doing that to me, I don't think they'll, come into Arizona again anytime soon."
"Well, they shouldn't have put their hands on you like that."
She palmed the top of his head and turned him to look at her. "And you can stop with this pity party you're having and be yourself again. You're a soldier and a hero. So man up and go back in there and kick that guy's ass. Like old times."
"Like old times huh?" he said with a grin.
"Yeah, just like old times." She patted him on the back and left to go back to the diner. "I just wish you would man up and ask me out sometime," she muttered under her breath.
She was just about to reach the door when she heard a loud crash and scream from the other side. Before she could react to the sound, Ricardo was at her side and pushing her back.
"Stay here," he told her. In the short time between him sitting at his table and getting to the door, Ricardo looked like the same as he did when Megan first saw him.
The first sight Ricardo saw was the black trucker on top of DB. Blood flowed freely from an open wound on his shoulder like a miniature River. As for the trucker, he was chewing on a chunk of DB's flesh and his pain filled screams were becoming softer as he bled out.
"What the fuck!" Christopher repeatedly yelled wall, pinning himself to the corner of his booth.
Chuck stood by the door, frozen in place and not believing what he was seeing. As a farm hand, it was used to seeing animals attack each other for a meal but this was beyond his comprehension.
"DB!" Ricardo yelled. He reached for the trucker and tried to pull him off but couldn't due to the strong grip he had on his friend. "Chuck, help me get him off!"
He didn't move and neither did Christopher, who continued to repeat his motto. The trucker refused to budge and Ricardo refused to let him continue doing what he was doing to DB.
"Rrraagghhh!" He used all of his strength, but the trucker continued to inch forward. He was just about the sink his teeth into DB's face when an iron rod connected with the side of his head and sent him to the side. When Ricardo looked up he saw Megan standing over him with a tire iron from his garage.
"Wha…wha… What happened? DB!" Her lips quivered and the tire iron fell to the floor with a clang.
"Get me a rag," Ricardo told her.
She took her apron off and dumped the contents of her pockets out before giving it to him. Tried as he did, Ricardo couldn't get the bleeding to stop and soon DB ceased to breathe.
"Is he?" she asked.
"He's lost too much blood," Ricardo told her.
She began to cry at his loss when Chuck in Christopher finally moved.
"What the…" Chuck said.
"Fuck," finished Christopher.
"What happened?" Ricardo asked.
Both men stood by speechless.
"What… happened?" Ricardo repeated.
"He went to check on the trucker. He said his food was getting cold. Then he…he…" Chuck removed his cowboy hat and held it over his chest.
"He turned him into soilant green, man," Christopher said.
The trucker lay still on the ground with a large pool of blood forming under his head where Megan hit him. "I… I killed him," she said. "I killed him and he killed DB. I… I…"
"Megan, it's okay," Ricardo told her.
"No it's not. I killed a person."
"You did it trying to save DB. Come on, let's call the police and tell them what happened."
"But I…"
"I'll take care of it." Ricardo led her over to a booth and sat her down. She was still shaking and didn't want to let him go. "Look. You didn't do anything wrong. You were defending DB. It's okay. Calm down and…"
A hand grabbed Ricardo by the forearm and gripped him tight enough to cause pain. The other three let out a scream as DB turned him around and began to attack him.
"Agh, shit! Wha… DB!" Ricardo yelled as his friend slowly inched his teeth closer to his throat.
To be continued…