Can't Let You Go (6 page)

“Coffee?” Our waitress set down two water glasses and nodded at a neighboring couple in need of refills. Her name was Kourtney with a K, and she had graduated the year after me at In Between High School. Last I’d heard, she already had two babies. How different our lives were. Did our choices lock us into paths we couldn’t get out of?

“I’ll have hot tea, please.” I said.

Maxine closed her menu. “Yes, bring the Queen here a cup of tea and me a black coffee and creamer. None of that low fat stuff, sweetie.”

“Coming right up.”

“Good morning to you, Maxine.” Loretta Parsons, with hair so flat black it could only come from a drugstore bottle and jeans that declared she did not give two hoots about fashion, swaggered her way to our table. The owner of Micky’s always carried a coffee pot and the latest in In Between gossip. “This your granddaughter?”

“Hello, Loretta. This is my Katie.”

My Katie.
For a girl who had been discarded by her mom at fifteen and in the system for over a year, these moments of unfiltered love and belonging were still like Christmas and birthdays all rolled into one powerful gift of joy. These words would be added to the collection tattooed on the walls of my heart.

“You’ve grown up since I last saw you. My sister taught you in school. Mary Hall.”

“My drama teacher.” I had loved that woman. Crazy enough to have her own reality show, but she had taught me how to dig deep and bring all I had to a role. “Tell her I said hello.”

“Your grandma says you want a job.”

“I do.”

“You got a college degree?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re overqualified.”

My new credit card balance didn’t care about details such as this, and I needed something to keep me busy until the Valiant could be all mine. “I’m a good worker. Great with people.” Except for the kind you dated.

Loretta pulled the pen from the perch above her ear and twirled it in fingers that had served the breakfast crowd faithfully for forty years. “Can you cook?”

I thought of the Ramen and canned soup I had lived on since leaving home. “Not exactly.”

“Ever been a waitress?”

“No.”

“Can you balance three plates of chicken fried steak on one arm while refilling sweet teas with the other?”

“Doubtful.”

A crash sounded behind us, and all heads in the room turned as Kourtney with a K stared at the ruined coffee pot now lying in glass shards on the floor.

Loretta turned her gaze back to me. “You’ll fit right in.”

“When do you want me to start?”

“This time next week. With all these meetings I got, I won’t have time to train you ’til then. Work begins at five.”

“In the morning?”

“Them eggs don’t scramble themselves.”

“Five a.m. will be just fine.”

“Kourtney, get over here and get these ladies’ order,” Loretta barked before walking away.

“I still think you should wait to get a job,” Maxine said. “Take some time and just rest. You’re whining about Frances rushing into things, and you’re doing the exact same thing.”

“I’m broke.”

“Not broke enough to take me up on the job
I
offered you.”

“Daily foot rubs and pedis is not an acceptable job offer.” A familiar flash of blue caught my eye, the blur resembling my dad. “Was that James?”

“Huh?” Maxine held out her coffee cup as Kourtney finally came to fill it. “No, he’s not here. Probably his doppelganger. We all have one.” She took the creamer from the waitress. “Mine goes by the name of Gisele Bündchen.”

“I swear that was him. I’d know that church polo shirt anywhere.” I thanked Kourtney for my tea. “I’m going to go say hi.”

“No!” Maxine said a little too strongly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m starving, and we need to order. Old ladies can’t go too long without food. Messes with our blood sugar. I don’t want to get the diabeedus.”

“For dinner last night you had Reese’s Pieces.” I removed the napkin from my lap and returned it to the table. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—he’s in a meeting.”

Something wasn’t right. “For what?”

“Some pastor thing. Boring stuff. Involves lots of praying, Bible reading, sharing the latest joke they’ve stolen from the internet, that sort of thing.” Maxine gave her order to the harried waitress, and judging by the five course breakfast she requested, I didn’t think she was too concerned with her glucose levels.

The table James sat at was not filled with local pastors, but with various members of the community. There was Evan, one of the night cops who’d given me a ride home my junior year when my car had broken down at midnight on the one lane bridge. Randall Foster, owner of the hardware store, sat to his right. Across from James was Dana Lou Tanner, who had the best bakery this side of Dixie, and whose husband kept the liquor store across the county line in business. Six or seven more filled the large table, each leaning in, intent on the conversation. Dana spoke to the group, her hands animated, a ringed finger jabbing the air.

“Looks pretty heated over there,” I said.

“It’s inter-denominational.” Maxine darted her eyes to the gathering, then gave me a reassuring smile. “When you put the Baptists and Methodists together, it’s like Southside L.A. The Bloods and the Crips. The Sharks and the Jets. Avon ladies and Mary Kay.”

“You’re hiding something, Mad Maxine.”

“Moi?”

“I’m going to go talk to James.”

“No, Katie! Sit!” Maxine’s manicured fingers latched onto my wrist. Then her eyes looked past me, and her smile broadened. “Well, hello, Charlie.”

I turned around, and like a predictable soap opera, there stood Charlie. Any woman with estrogen left in her body would appreciate the sight. The handsome man stood over six-feet tall, the contours of hard muscles visible beneath his dark denim shirt. His khaki shorts stopped at his knees, revealing tanned legs that had carried him through years of high school and college football. But the heart-clincher, the part that had a table of white-headed ladies audibly sighing beside us, was the way he held his little sister’s hand. The way she stared adoringly at her handsome big brother like he was her Prince Charming.

Maybe I did need something stronger than tea.

“Charlie!” Maxine glowed like a spotlight. “And Miss Sadie, don’t you look cute as a puppy nose. Do join us.”

“What do you think, Sadie?” Charlie twirled his sister beneath his arm, sending the white haired hens a twittering. “Want to sit with Mrs. Dayberry and Katie?”

“Okay.”

Charlie’s eyes never left mine as he helped his sister into her seat, then lowered himself into the chair beside me. His warm arm settled against mine, clearly crossing my table boundary line.

“Breakfast is on me,” Maxine said. “It’s the least I can do for your saving my granddaughter.”

“I didn’t save her,” Charlie said. “Just helped her get off the plane.”

“Why, my dear boy, I disagree.” Maxine turned to little Sadie. “He carried my Katie like she was Sleeping Beauty. She was wounded and unconscious, bleeding from the head. He threw his own body over her to shield her from further damage, then when the plane finally touched down, your brother lifted her in his big strong arms and brought her to safety. Isn’t it just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Romantic is probably not the word I’d use,” I said.

Sadie turned her wide eyes to me. “Are you going to marry my brother?”

“What? No!” I searched frantically for our waitress. “Can we get some crayons over here?”

The little girl was as ruthless as Maxine. “If you were in a Disney movie, it would end with you two getting married.”

I forced my teeth to unclench. “Your brother and I are old friends.”

“Right.” Charlie took a drink from my water glass. “Friends.”

“Charlie,” Maxine cooed. “How long are you in town?”

“Until after the wedding.”

He was going back to Chicago soon. I had no business even considering getting tangled up with him or any form of long-distance relationship. Soon he would be back in his high-rise apartment sitting behind his desk doing whatever important businessy things he did.

“Your company must really think a lot of you to let you have that much time off,” Maxine said.

“Charlie’s working while he’s here,” I said as Kourtney flittered over and secured Charlie and Sadie’s order.

Maxine blew on her coffee. “Doing what?”

“A very important project.” Sadie leaned her blonde head into her brother. “Right?”

Charlie straightened in his seat. “I don’t want to bore anyone with business talk.”

I took a sip of tea. “Bore away.”

Charlie opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the reappearance of Loretta. “Here’s the job application.” She plopped it beside my saucer. “Bring this back with you next week so I can pretend to check your references. And here’s your uniform.” She thrust a wad of extra-extra-large t-shirts into my hands.

I held one up. “They’re a little roomie.”

“You get a discount on my pies,” Loretta said. “Maybe you’ll grow into them.”

Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of my life?

“Loretta, I had a few questions about the job—”

“Sorry, hon. I’m wanted in a meeting. Dang corporation thinks they can take my diner? They got another thing coming.”

“Someone’s trying to buy you out?” This was the first I’d heard of it.

“Where’s that waitress?” Maxine said. “I’m ready for my food.”

“Buy me out is putting it politely.” Loretta propped a hand at her hip. “What Thrifty Co. is doing is corporate terrorism.”

Maxine clanged her fork to her glass. “What does it take to get a short stack around here?”

“Did you know about this?” I asked my grandmother.

“Who can keep up with a big metropolis like this?” Maxine’s laugh was a little too forced. “Loretta, I think they’re calling you in the kitchen. She’s coming!”

“Thrifty Co. is wanting to build one of their discount stores right here,” Loretta said.

“But your diner’s not for sale.” I glanced at Charlie. “Can you believe this?”

He slowly shook his head. “It’s a tough situation.”

“The mayor said it doesn’t matter that my diner’s not for sale. Said the city can sell the land right out from under me. Eminent domain. But I’m getting myself a lawyer.”

“Loretta, that’s terrible.” I had so many memories at this diner. Charlie and I had shared many a banana split in booth number twelve my senior year.

“I gotta get back to the meeting.” Loretta gestured her spiky head to the large table in the back of the restaurant.

The one where James now sat. “Is my dad helping you?”

“Helping?” Loretta huffed. “Honey, Thrifty Co. doesn’t just want my restaurant. The want almost the whole block.”

Maxine stood to her feet. “I want eggs, and I want them now!”

But I ignored the outburst.

As the cold blood drained from my body, and I stood eye to eye with my grandmother.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

She eyed my print blouse. “You really shouldn’t wear orange. Clashes with your hair.”

“How. . .” I breathed maple-scented air through my nostrils. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Now, Sweet Pea, we didn’t want to upset you.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“When your head healed. Or if it didn’t, when we got you settled in the institution.”

“Did you know about this?” I asked Charlie again.

His face tensed in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

“Exactly what properties does Jiffy Co. want, Maxine?”

She wrung her hands, the gold bangles on her wrist clanging like a gypsy. “It’s not a done deal.”

“Which ones?”

She pressed her pink lips together. “Micky’s Diner. Betty’s Hair Salon—but that’s no loss. The old bird only knows bowl cuts and poodle perms. I forget the rest.”

A hammer pummeled my head. “Spit it out.”

“The Valiant.” Maxine reached for my hand and held it tight. “Katie, they’re going to tear down the Valiant.”

T
here comes a
point where the dark overtakes you, and a girl just has to give into the sinking pull of despair.

I was at that point.

I had spent the last three days locked in my bedroom with unwashed hair, season four of
Friday Night Lights
,
People
magazine on my iPad, and the empty carcasses of two jars of peanut butter.

I had received three voice mails from some director in New York, one from another theater friend with an audition lead, and two from Ian the Ex. I didn’t want to talk to any of them. I wouldn’t spit on Ian if he were on fire, and as for the director, I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I was certain I wasn’t it. I was a screw-up of an actress. You didn’t just bolt on a play. Like any job, you gave notice. I would probably be blacklisted, but that really didn’t matter anyway. I wasn’t going back to the stage.

James and Millie had tried to coax me out with ice cream, offers of shopping, even invitations to a big concert in Houston. But I remained in my room. Just me, my comfy bed, and Coach Taylor. Clear eyes, full heart, total loser.