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“Relax, I know what you mean. Now let’s grab something to eat. I wanna take you somewhere.”
“The last time you said that you took me to a cemetery. Look, shouldn’t we talk more? I can listen if you need that.”
“This place is much more fun.” He smiles, ignoring my plea to help him.
He drives us in the opposite direction to a less busy part of town. When he parks the bike in the parking lot, I pull off my helmet and fix my hair, trying to untangle the knots that have formed from the wind. I give up, realizing it’s a lost cause. Long hair and wind do not mix.
The place we stop at is a 1960s-style restaurant called Peggy’s. The neon lights along the roof-line cover the parking lot like in classic movies. Coming out of the front of the establishment is half a Cadillac—red with white stripes and wheels.
I stare in awe, impressed with how authentic the place looks. “This is pretty cool.”
“Yeah, been coming here for years. Peggy cooks a mean burger combo.”
“You mean there’s an actual Peggy?”
He laughs. “Yes, let’s go meet her.”
We walk inside and sit at a booth that’s more toward the kitchen and less visible. The restaurant isn’t overly busy, a few patrons scattered around and mainly older folks. No one seems to pay attention to Wesley or even recognize who he is except for Peggy—the lady dressed in a pale green uniform with large permed hair that towers over her head. She walks over to us as she chews gum with a wide smile. She leans into Wesley, kissing the top of his head.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” she teases, chewing loudly. “So, introduce me to your girlfriend.”
“Uh, just friend,” I pipe up, perhaps too quickly.
“Double ouch.”
“Now… don’t you listen to him. You follow your heart. You got me? Don’t let no boy tell you any different.”
I like Peggy. She seems to have put Wesley in his place. She doesn’t entertain us looking at the menus, instead ordering us her special meal combo. I’m up for anything, starving since I haven’t eaten since Emerson’s place.
“So, do you come here often?”
“When I can. It’s hard to go places these days.”
“I can’t imagine what it must be like. I know Emerson says—” I cut myself off, aware that I’ve brought up the giant elephant in the room. Surely, this would have come up eventually anyway. We both can’t ignore the fact that I work for her, and Logan’s voice replays in my head.
“Sorry.” I watch him, apologizing to be polite but studying his reaction.
He purses his lips, busying himself with his cell and pretending to seem uninterested. “What are you sorry for?”
“Bringing up your ex-fiancée. I know it must be hard.”
Wesley purposely i
gnores my comment, continuing to tap on his phone. His rude behavior angers me. Odd, since I usually don’t allow this. He lightly throws the cell on the table, the vinyl making it slide to the middle and settling right next to the salt and pepper shakers.
I’m tired and hungry. Mama used to say that the only way to get me to reason was on a full stomach. I can smell the grease in the air—fries, burgers, onion rings—the same time my stomach makes a rumbling sound which I attempt to cover with my arm.
Peggy arrives with our food, offloading three plates in front of us. I thank her, then dig into my burger devouring every bite. Wesley barely touches his food, picking at the bun then shoving his plate away from him.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, stopping mid-bite.
“I need to go.”
“Okay.” I wipe my hands on the napkin and grab my purse. “We can go.”
He stands abruptly, walking toward the counter. For a brief moment, he says something to Peggy, and she looks my way. I’m not sure what I did wrong, aside from mentioning Emerson, and continue sitting here waiting like an idiot.
Peggy walks over as Wesley goes in the opposite direction, toward the exit.
