Page 3 of Look at Her and Die

If there was anyone in this world that didn’t need to be a mom, it was her.

She was too flighty. Too lost. Too unable to do the hard things in life because they would make her sad. Too focused on the material to see what she had waiting in the wings, begging for her to pay attention to them.

Honestly, I’m quite surprised she volunteered to take the kids to the dentist today. Usually that’s reserved for me, because my mom can’t even remember their birthdays, let alone their pediatrician’s name or where they’re supposed to be going for their semi-annual dentist checkup.

I’d had to give that information to Anders.

For the next two hours, we moved like a well-oiled machine.

We’d done this so many times before that we knew what the other was going to do or say without having to ask.

He took the left side of the diner, and I took the right.

Our cook, Lenny, pumped out the grilled cheeses—what we were famous for thanks to Koda and me—like there was no tomorrow.

We had other items on the menu, but back in the early days when Dad would force us to work at the diner, then leave it to us to handle, we hadn’t had a cook. We hadn’t had anyone but ourselves. And since I was always busting my ass on the front end, Koda was in the back making grilled cheeses because that was really the only thing besides hamburgers he knew how to make.

Luckily, it didn’t take much to learn how to fry up frozen fries.

Lenny, our cook, had come in when Koda had joined the Air Force.

He stayed for ridiculously low pay and seemed to be quite content in life to do the job.

I was grateful.

Speaking of grateful…

“Where the fuck is our mother at?” I grumbled as I passed Koda.

Koda frowned and looked at his fancy-ass watch, one I’d scraped for to purchase for him as a graduation gift, and said, “You’re right. She should’ve been here by now.”

I grumbled something to him and headed to the back to get some dishes into the washer.

When I got back, our clientele had tripled.

All of the extra bodies were wearing leather.

And, since I tried really hard not to pay attention to anyone or anything, I let Koda work his section and I stayed in mine.

“Um, excuse me,” a woman said from a side table in between Koda’s section and mine. “Do you have anything else on the menu but grilled cheese?”

“Not today,” I said. “Sometimes we do patty melts, but not always. We specialize in grilled cheese.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, what are lactose intolerants supposed to eat?”

I shrugged. “You can eat across the fuckin’ street for all I care. But all we have in here are grilled cheeses.”

Two

Cheating should affect your credit score. If Susan can’t trust you, why should Nationwide?

—Cutter to Doc

DOC

“Why are we here again?” I asked Cutter.

“Because you’re being a sad sack, and I felt like you could use some greasy food,” Cutter answered.

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