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The Red Boxis the diner that established my love for all diners, a compact place on the corner next to JB’s, my favorite bar in Burney. The floor was black and white checkerboard, the booths that lined the walls and front windows had thick red vinyl on the seats, and every booth had an oldies jukebox selector. A classic diner.
It didn’t hurt that the Red Box owner/manager was one of my favorite people on the planet, Kitty Porter, who also happened to be Cash’s mom. Every time Cash dumped me in high school, Kitty said, “The hell with him, we’re keeping you,” and his two brothers and sister said the same thing, and it actually helped: Kitty was the mom I wanted and never had. I have a mom, she’s just . . . not Kitty.
So, when I walked in alone, Kitty’s eyebrows went up. “Where’s Vince?”
“Back at the Big Chef,” I said, not in the mood to share. “I’m eating light tonight. How about a BLT?”
“No fries or rings?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her. “I’m not eating that light.”
Then somebody called my name, and I turned and saw Mac Blake sitting in a booth by himself, which was so odd I went over to see what was up with him.
I slid into the booth opposite him. “Don’t you usually have a crowd of people around you laughing?”
“Tonight I needed some alone time,” he said, and I started to slide out of the booth. “Not you, dummy. Stay there.”
I didn’t like the look of him. Mac was usually what Santa Claus would have looked like if he were a hot thirty-something firefighter with a great sense of humor and no beard. But tonight he was looking . . . muted, I guess. Not smiling. A quiet version of his usual good time self. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head. “Forget me, I’m fine. Where’s Vince?”
“Wallowing in his superiority back at the Big Chef.” I’ll put up a facade that everything’s okay for Kitty, but Mac knows me too well.
“You guys had a fight?” He looked surprised.
“No, we’ll be fine. We just have to negotiate some things. We moved in together thinking it would be one big party, which was dumb of both of us.”
“I don’t know what the issue is,” Mac said. “But that man is crazy about you.”
“It’s not about the depth of his feelings for me,” I said. “It’s about what we’re willing to give up for each other.”
“Whatever you want, he should give it to you,” Mac said firmly.
“That’s no good, him giving me something just to keep me there. I don’t want that.”
“Wait. Youlefthim?”
“No.” I took a breath. “But I think it might be a good idea to leave the Big Chef and find a place of my own.”
“Bad idea,” Mac said. “Very bad idea.”
I smiled at him because he was being such a cheerleader for the relationship, which was just like him. Mac was an EMT who saved people and a firefighter who saved buildings and now a good friend, trying to save Vince and me.
“I should have dumped Cash for you,” I said, thinking back to high school when Mac had been pudgy and round-faced, and I’d been dazzled by the very real beauty of Cash Porter. What an idiot I’d been.
“Nah,” he said. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you. You were terrifying. I was just grateful you were a friend.”
“Well, I’m grateful you’re a friend now,” I said. “Maybe I just had to grow into you.”
Kitty put our baskets in front of us. “You two okay?” she said, looking from Mac to me and back again.
“We are now,” I said, picking up an onion ring, and she grinned and left. I chomped through my onion ring and went back to Mac who was attacking his burger. “So enough about me,” I said when he was finished chewing. “Why are you looking like the last grave over by the willow?”
“Great movie.” Mac took another bite of his burger.
“You can stonewall all you want, but sooner or later, that burger will be gone and you’ll have to talk to me.”
He gestured to his basket full of rings and fries.
