Max POV
I'm numb but I somehow manage to walk over to a stool at the counter and sit. Remember, the last thing you want to do is act like something is up. Just breathe. Breathe, pay close attention to everything and try not to flip the fuck out.
Joyce has gone to check on some old dudes sitting at a booth in the back she's laughing and teasing them about "getting the band back together." Ok, so she's still Joyce. Chloe's cashing someone out at the register. I watch them both closely. I feel myself white knuckling my empty mug hoping to see some spark of recognition. Some small sign that the gears are turning. Come on, guys, it's me! Please! My eyes sting and I look away before I have a chance to cry. Now isn't the time for blubbering.
"Draw one in the dark [1]!" I look up and see Chloe cheerfully filling my cup. She winks at me. "You look like you can use a pick-me-up."
I clutch the mug of dark elixir and inhale the scent of diner coffee eagerly.
"You have no idea."
Chloe returns the pot to the warmer, surveys the restaurant to make sure no one wants anything and leans against the counter.
"Rough night?"
I take a long drink. The caffeine will be good for my head.
"The worst."
She chuckles.
"Hell yeah! Party hardy."
I roll my eyes.
"You know me, real thrasher."
"Well I don't know you but I'd like to. Name's Chloe."
I feel a deep stabbing sensation between two of my ribs. So it's true. That is what I was afraid of. When I speak my voice is weak and shaking slightly.
"Max."
"Cute name. Well, Max, you look like you could use something to soak up whatever you had last night." She turns to the back and hollers like she was hailing a cab. "I need an order of blowout patches[2] ASAP!"
A heavily tattooed short order cook glares at her through the window.
"You keep using that phony 50's diner crap with me and I'm gonna come out there!"
Frank Bowers?! It's like our entire town was copied and pasted into a new script. The only one who doesn't have a role is me.
Chloe shrugs off his threatening statement.
"Eh, you know you love me."
He grumbles.
"You're damn lucky I do."
Joyce pipes up from the other side of the room.
"You'll both watch your language unless you want to be in love and unemployed."
What? Frank and Chloe?!
Chloe sees the look on my face.
"It's a joke. We've just all been working together too long."
"How long is that?"
"Well for me, since I was fifteen. My parents own this place and they put me to work as soon as they legally could. Frank's been with us for… I want to say three years?"
"Four! Dumb-ass!"
"For the last time, you'll watch your mouth if you want to make it to five."
Chloe shrugs and leans in to mutter to me.
"She's bluffing, she'll never fire us."
"I heard that!"
"How?"
"Order up!"
"Be right back."
Chloe walks away from me and I try to process everything. Everything is all stirred together. At least Chloe and Joyce's bickering makes sense to me. I'm watching her move to the back of the restaurant and I see him, the guy from earlier.
He's coming from where the restrooms probably are. He has a set of keys in his hand and he looks… troubled. I wonder if I can stop him. Maybe I'll get a second chance without rewinding? He sees me and nods.
I don't know what to say so I try to convey something with my eyes. I want him to come over and talk to me.
He raises an index finger to the window. I look behind me and see his wife sitting in the car. He gives me a short wave goodbye. Then he's gone again.
"Damn."
"I take it you're a fan?"
Chloe is back and she sets a plate down in front of me.
"A fan?"
"Of him. Something, something Wake. There was a girl who used to work here. Rose. She was obsessed with him. Used to go on about him all the time. She actually kept one of those cardboard cutouts from the bookstore here before she… passed away." Chloe's face got dark for a moment. "Anyway I guess he's a really famous writer."
The writer! There is no way this is a coincidence. I know now that I need to find him again, somehow.
1. Diner slang for "a cup of black coffee."
2. pancakes