Page 5 of Zombie's Howl-O-Ween
Lynx tapped his hand on the counter, thinking. “I have an idea! Wait here.” He went toward his office.
What was he doing? Knowing Lynx, probably something crazy.
“This is my best idea ever!” He had a victorious grin on his face.
“What?”
“This.” He put a folded piece of paper in front of me. “Give this to her tomorrow, and all your problems will be solved.”
I took the paper, opened it and read it…
Hey, Trixie.
We’re having a Halloween party this Friday night at 8:00 pm. Do you want to come?
Zombie
“That’s not like my handwriting.” I screwed up my face. My writing is a lot neater than his. “She’ll know I didn’t write it.”
“It’s fine. She won’t care, trust me.”
“Do guys actually write notes?”
“No, not cool dudes. But we’re desperate. If you can’t verbally ask her, the note is your only option.”
He had a point.
I folded up the note and stuck it in my pocket. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Thursday afternoon, I went to Schafer’s Deli to get my usual: foot-long meatball sub, light on the marinara, extra mozzarella. I had the note Lynx wrote shoved into my front pocket, ready to hand to Trixie.
A chill worked its way down my spine. It wasn’t nerves. The temperature had plummeted overnight and stayed in the mid-20s.
It was freaking cold out on my Harley. Before I knew it, I’d have to be in acage. Not an actual cage. Lynx had said they called any vehicle a cage because bikers didn’t like to be boxed up. But in Minnesota, the brutal winters forced us to drive cages, or we’d freeze to death. Or wind up in a ditch because of the icy roads.
The bell above the door chimed as I entered the deli and the sound caused the muscles in my neck to instantly tense.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Brandon,” Papa Schafer said from behind the counter. “It’s frigid out, no?”
I nodded as I scanned the room.
“She’s not here today. I already have your meatball sub, light sauce and extra mozzarella, ready to go.” Papa Schafer smiled proudly and set the bag on the counter.
“Where is she?” How was I supposed to give Trixie the note if she wasn’t working?
“She took the afternoon off to get her hair done.” He chuckled. “You know girls and all that beauty stuff.”
“No, I don’t.” This was just great. What would Lynx say? “She’s always here when I come in.”
“Yes.” He considered me for a second, then leaned toward me. “Perhaps she didn’t feel the need to be here after all,” he whispered.
“I don’t know what you mean. Why doesn’t she feel the need to be here after all? She’s always working when I come in.”
Papa Schafer sighed. “I shouldn’t say too much.”
“But I’m confused.” And I was getting angry. He needed to make it clear to me, so I’d understand what was happening.
“She’s given up on you, friend.” He looked at me with compassion in his dark depths.
