Page 99 of Cookout Carnage
The door to the diner opened with a tinkle and her ‘parents’’ eyes shot up. Sherilyn braced herself as Amy dashed off, returning with the hospital screen. She sensed Tristan’s gaze on her but kept looking forward. The speaker above their head crackled and music started playing.
‘So, Tristan,’ Clara began. ‘Tell us about your family.’
Sherilyn’s ears pricked up. Tristan never talked about his family, other than to say he had a younger sister called Tasha.
‘Er, I have a sister, Natasha. She works for an advertising agency in London. My mother is called Anne, she’s a homemaker, and my stepfather is a solicitor called Jasper.’
‘Stepfather?’ Sherilyn asked before she could stop herself.
Tristan looked at her parents as he replied, ‘My father passed away when I was a child.’
Clara reached across the table to take his hand. ‘Oh, I am sorry for your loss.’
Tristan smiled, but Sherilyn could see how tight it was. He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Amy arrived to break the moment with a tray of fried chicken and a pot of coffee, and they started eating. The bell for the diner door had sounded twice more since Amy had put the screen across. Each time a new customer entered, Clara leaned to her right to see who it was through the gap in the screen and Amy turned the music up a level.
‘So, young man,’ said Emmett loudly, battling with Elvis to be heard. ‘What attracted you to Fitzpatrick & Doyle as a place of employment?’
‘It’s a large company with a good reputation and career prospects,’ he replied.
‘And why the move to Chicago?’ shouted Clara.
There was a pause. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tristan turning to look at her. She didn’t move her head.
‘Because of Sherilyn,’ he replied.
Elvis crooned in the background about fools rushing in.
‘I know this won’t be news to you,’ Tristan continued, ‘but your daughter is an amazing person. She’s a credit to you both.’
Clara’s eyes widened. ‘Axle!’ she yelled.
Sherilyn slid off the banquette seat to the floor and hid under the table.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! The music was now so loud she couldn’t tell what was going on. In front of her, Emmett’s hand appeared, holding his glasses. She took them and he held his palm out flat, as if telling her to stay put. After a few seconds, he gave her a thumbs up. She crawled out and sat down, handing the glasses to Emmett.
‘You dropped these.’
‘Thank you, sweetheart, that is mighty kind of you,’ Emmett replied. He looked at Tristan. ‘That’s my Sherilyn,’ he said with a smile. ‘Always thinking of others.’
Sherilyn managed a weak smile but inside, her guts were churning. What the hell was Axle doing here again? She turned on her phone but there were no missed calls or messages. She needed to get this meal over with and get them all out of the diner without being seen. Tristan was now asking Emmett and Clara about their jobs, seemingly genuinely interested in Emmett’s thesis on winter wheat and Clara’s excitement that the salon was now offering lip fillers. Every time the music went up in volume, she knew someone else had entered the diner. She had to get out.
Amy stepped inside the screen.
‘Hey, y’all, I’m afraid we’re getting awful busy now and I wondered if we could have this table back?’
‘Of course, dear,’ said Emmett. ‘Would it help if we left via the second entrance?’
Amy looked relieved. ‘Yes, that would be a good idea.’ She looked at Tristan. ‘On account of the myofascibronchiplasmitis.’
Sherilyn could see the corners of Tristan’s mouth turning up. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips to hide his expression.
Amy scribbled on her pad then tore off a piece of paper. ‘Your check.’
Tristan reached for it with his free hand. ‘Let me get this.’
‘No!’ said Sherilyn, lunging towards it and knocking his entire mug of coffee down the front of his pristine white shirt.
