Page 14 of Last One Standing
Nick held his hand up. “Nothing at all.” He glanced at Noel. “Maybe Noel and I can dig into it, though…you know, just to be a hundred percent certain there’s nothing nefarious going on.”
I nodded curtly. “That’s a good idea.”
I was positive there was something going on, and I was determined to figure out what it was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KONA
Brick being gonefor so long had been relaxing. He’d had a few runs, and the last had kept him away for three glorious days. The clubhouse had a few prospects and two members, Franko and Lips. Both of them were generally quiet and never bothered me or Pika.
However, in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn’t last, and he’d return. Not knowing when was what kept me on my toes. Every sound of a motorcycle had me breaking out in a sweat.
“Wanna go out and get lunch?” Pika asked as I was finishing my hair.
“Sure, I’m free for the rest of the day. What were you thinking?”
He smiled, something he was doing less and less lately. “How about that sixties diner on Main? We’ve ordered from there, but I want to actually go in.”
“Love it, let’s go.”
The truck keys were on the hook and none of the MCs were around, so I left. Pika and I blared Taylor Swift through the speakers, windows down, and embraced normalcy all the way to the diner.
Once we pulled in, it was nice to see that it wasn’t very busy, which meant we wouldn’t be waiting for our food forever. But honestly, that wouldn’t be so bad since Pika was in such a great mood.
When we entered it was like being transported in time, and I couldn’t stop my delighted laugh.
The floor was black-and-white checkered, there was counter seating with chrome stools, and a classic jukebox that was playing “Surfin’ U.S.A.” by The Beach Boys. The waitresses—oh, my heavens, they were the cherry on top of the sundae. They wore A-line dresses that were functional and not cumbersome, so they could work. Each was a different color, but all had white aprons, nylons, black shoes, and a few had a light sweater.
Each waitress’s hair was some sort of sixties style. There were beehives, flipped bobs, and bouffants. It was perfection. The men wore little white hats, white button-down shirts with black bow ties, and pants. All of them also had white aprons on. It was a trip.
“How have we never come inside here?” Pika’s eyes were wide as he took in our surroundings.
“Welcome to Carl’s. How many today?” A blond waitress with a beehive smiled at us.
“Two, please.”
She grabbed the menus, and we followed her to a ruby-red booth.
“Can I get you all something to drink?”
“Oh! Can I have a chocolate milkshake?” Pika was practically bouncing in his seat. I sometimes forgot he was only fifteen and had grown up faster than he should have, so moments like this were rare.
“Absolutely.” She beamed and regarded me. “And for you?”
“Oh,hmm…” I liked to watch what I ate because my body had to fit into my costumes, and nothing was worse than discoveringyou didn’t fit in a dress two minutes before curtains up. But this was a special day. “Root beer float?”
“You got it, be right back with those.”
“This is so cool.” Pika was giddy as he read the menu. “Look at this food.”
I tore my gaze from my brother and read the menu. Tuna noodle casserole, pork chops, meatloaf. Of course there were cheeseburgers, fries—which was what Brick ordered from here—and a salad for me, but it was very old-fashioned food. Some modern ones still had this stuff but with these choices and the atmosphere, it felt like this was the only place on Earth that had it all.
The waitress delivered our drinks, and we ordered, then moaned as we took our first sips. Pika was telling me about something he’d watched this morning, when movement outside caught my attention.
Two men were getting out of a car, and I recognized one of them…Angel, I believed his name was. He was with a Viking of a man, and they were obviously having a serious conversation. I watched as they came closer to the diner and glanced away as they entered.
“Kona, you listening to me?”
