Page 15 of Keep Your Guard Up
“Where the fuck are you taking me?”
“Relax, hangry. The Rustic Roo is just up here.”
“Sorry, what?Whereare you taking me?”
“The Rustic Roo. They do a bangin’ eggs benny, bro. You’ve gotta try it.”
~
The Rustic Roo, or ‘The Rusty’ as locals apparently called it, was bumping—well as much as a small-town cafe could when we arrived. Just over a dozen people sat at the outdoor seating. Most were dolled-up retirees who spared JJ and I a fair few glances as we approached. The outdoor metal seats were old and ‘rustic’ as the name would have it, but each had a thick cushion with a wildly bright pattern on it. The tables were well looked after and appeared to be custom made, seeing as each one was different. A slice of a tree trunk had been treated, stained, and attached to a matte black stand. A few chipped windchimes softly whistled as we neared, and the smell of bacon wafted out like that of a pie on a windowsill in a cartoon.
My mouth instantly watered.
“Hi, JJ!” an older bird chirped at JJ, waving her ring-clad hand that jingled all of the bangles on her wrist.
“G’day, Hilly. How you goin’?” JJ lathered it on thick, waving back and sending a wink her way.
The old lady blushed and giggled before waving a hand in dismissal.
Several other older women and even a couple of their husbands said their hellos to JJ, who gracefully moved through the small cafe with waves and nods—asking questions here, checking in on people’s relatives and pets there.
“You should start charging for your affections,” I joked to him as he led us up to the counter made of metal roofing sheets and a narrow strip of timber.
“My affections are invaluable,” he cooed. “You’ll be famous around here before you know it—known as ‘JJ’s single friend’.”
I caught the sneaky eye he sent me when referring to my relationship status. I ignored it, letting that say everything that need to be said.
“I’m already known as something that’s not‘your single friend’,” I stated, reminding him of my status in the UFL.
“Not here you’re not. Most of these people don’t watch anything on TV other than the news andJeopardy, and that’s because they’re both on the same channel.”
I glanced at the people around us—the crowd was full of hearing aids, canes, walkers, glasses and receding hairlines. Not a single person here, outside the two of us, looked like they would even know, nor care, about what the UFL was.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” An occa accent came from the round, tall lady that waddled up to the other side of the counter. As if on cue, a ginger cat leapt up in front of us, tail swaying in what seemed to be annoyance.
“Mornin’, Nancy,” JJ hummed before leaning over the counter and dropping a kiss on the woman’s puffy cheek.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked up into the smallest of smiles.
“Where’s Patty?”
“Patricia’s out back cookin’ today, since we got a full house.” She threw a thumb behind her at the open kitchen window. A thick gold wedding band sat on her ring finger, along with similar ink to Mari’s. “Who you brought with you?”
“This is Chance. He’s a bit of an angry bastard when he’s hungry so I’d save the pleasantries until after he’s eaten.”
I smacked him upside the head.
“Dick,” I muttered.
“Ow! Point proven,” he whined.
Nancy smirked at me and shot me a subtle thumbs up before wiping her hands on her already-dirty-probably-never-clean white apron.
“What can I get for youse?”
“A coffee. Black. In your biggest cup, preferably bucket-sized,” I ordered.
“Ugh, even your coffee order is soulless. I’ll have my usual, Nancy,” JJ said.
