Diners, Dives & Dead Ends (3 page)

Axton lived in a tiny, white
clapboard two-bedroom, one-bath home with his stoner roommate Joe Fletcher. 
Joe worked sporadically.  Mostly, I think he sponged off Axton. 

I pulled into the driveway
behind Axton’s blue Honda.  A huge sense of relief washed over me at the sight
of his car.  That phone call really freaked me out.  I didn’t know what was
wrong, but I wasn’t leaving until he told me everything.   

I bounded up the front steps
and knocked on the door.  After about a minute, Joe answered. 

Joe was a little taller than
Axton but just as thin.  His brown hair was shaggy and greasy and he always
wore a purple tuque with strings that fell on either side of his head.  Even in
the summer. 

“Rose, hey man.  Like, mi
casa es su casa.”  He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

I hadn’t been inside Axton’s
house very often and frankly it was not an experience I wished to repeat.  It
was dusty and smelled like old bong water.  I stepped in and glanced around.  A
guy with a long ponytail and chin stubble sat on their old corduroy couch.  He
was completely engrossed in a video game that involved shooting people.  Nazis,
by the look of it.  

“Where’s Axton?” 

“In his room.”  He waved
toward the hall, his attention fixed on Ponytail and the video game.  “Dude,
you totally shot the shit out of that dude.”

Ponytail nodded.  “Hell yeah
I did.”

I walked down the short
hall, knocked on Axton’s door and waited.  Nothing.  I tried the door handle,
but it was locked.  I jiggled the knob.  “Ax, you in there?”

No answer.

“Hey Joe,” I yelled.

Joe shuffled down the hall
to stand next to me. 

“Axton’s door is locked and
he’s not answering.”

Joe shrugged.  “Don’t know,
dude.”

“Do you have a key?”

He scratched the top of his
head.  “Um…I don’t think so.”

I pounded on the door and
shouted Axton’s name, but still no response. 

“Are you going to kick the
door in?” Joe asked.

“Not unless I have to.”

“Cuz that would be awesome. 
But, like, better if you had on a tight leather jumpsuit and boots that came up
to your cootchie.  All superhero style, you know?”

I walked back down the hall
and out the front door.  I made my way toward the side of the house until I
stood outside of Axton’s room.  His light was off but the window stood open,
the curtains fluttering inward from the light wind.

Joe followed.  “Hey, maybe
the Axman escaped.”

I wrapped my hands over the
window ledge, and bracing my feet against the house, hoisted myself up. 
Throwing one leg over the sill, I ducked my head and toppled into Axton’s
bedroom, then quickly scrambled to my feet. 

With my hands stretched out
in front of me, I stumbled around in the dark and stubbed my toe as I searched
for the light switch.  When I finally found it, I flipped it on and took a good
look around.  There was an unbelievable amount of crap scattered everywhere,
but no Axton.

A knot formed in the pit of
my stomach.  Where the hell was Ax and why hadn’t he taken his car? 

I tromped back to the living
room and asked Joe a few simple questions, like ‘When did Axton come home?  Was
he acting strange?  Did he say if he was going out tonight?’  All I got back
was, “Dude, I don’t know.”  Not terribly helpful, Joe.

I gave Joe and Ponytail specific
instructions to call me if Axton called or came home.  They nodded as they
munched on cold pizza and watched me with glazed eyes.  With a sigh, I left the
house and got back in my car. 

I drove around for hours,
stopping at all of Axton’s favorite hangouts: The Burger Barn, The Slaughter
House (a local watering hole), Howard’s Hot Dog Stand, The Carp (a bar that featured
live music), and even The Sizzler, Axton’s favorite restaurant.  He was nowhere
to be found and no one had seen him all night.  I kept calling him, but he
never answered. 

I got home close to eleven
o’clock.  Worry clawed at me as I climbed the two flights of stairs to my
studio apartment.  Something was wrong with Ax, I felt it in my gut.

I dropped my stuff on the
small bistro table in the corner then curled up on my orange futon, but I was
too edgy to sit still, so I stood and paced the room.  Axton gave me his
backpack for safekeeping.  Why?  He was obviously hiding something, but there
was nothing unusual inside of it.  Did it have something to do with his
computer?  And what about the strange man?  Did Axton have something that
belonged to him?  And why did Ax sneak out of his window and not take his car?

My head ached from asking
myself the same questions over and over.  Should I call the police?  Should I
wait to see if he showed up tomorrow?  I didn’t know what to do. 

Axton and I didn’t have much
in common on the surface.  I vaguely remembered him as a goofy kid from
school.  We hadn’t been friends, but our parents moved in the same social
circles.  But five years ago, when we ran into each other at the city college,
it was like I saw him, really saw him, for the first time.

I had been feeling so
hopeless and isolated after moving out of my parents’ home.  All my old friends
had gone back to their expensive schools, my sister had newborn Scotty to take
care of, and I went to work at Ma’s Diner.  I’d gone from country club tennis
courts and a Lexus convertible to shopping for food at the dollar store and
using a bus pass.  I’d never even made my own bed and suddenly I had to figure
out how to pay rent on a dump of an apartment.  I was completely lost. 

Until I met up with Ax. 

With his sweet smile and
love of Godzilla movie marathons, he kept me going.  One day at a time.  He
held my hand through it all, offered to lend me money—which I could never bring
myself to take—and brought me pizza.  Lots and lots of pizza. 

For a while, he was my only
friend.  And I would have lost my way without him.  

He was an affable,
tech-loving doofus who liked to spark up a bit too frequently and I was a
rebellious smartass who could barely pay my bills.  We were both misfits, not
to mention bitter disappointments to our respective parents.  I loved him like
a brother.  And if he was in trouble, I had to help him. 

But I couldn’t do anything
about it tonight.  With a sigh, I took my hair out of its ponytail and massaged
my scalp.  In my Post-it sized bathroom, I washed my face, brushed my teeth,
and pulled on a t-shirt my ex-boyfriend, Kevin, left behind.  It was puke green
and bore the name of his band, TurkeyJerk.   

Boyfriends like Kevin might
drift in and out of my life, but Ax was my constant, the one man I could count
on.  And now he was missing.

I blew out a breath.  Well,
I was just going to have to find him.  Whatever trouble he was in, I would
help.  Maybe it was my turn to save him. 

The next morning I awoke to
my phone ringing instead of my alarm.  “Axton?” I asked, after fumbling with
the receiver.

“It’s Ray.  You’re late. 
You sick?”  My boss’s gruff voice got me up in a hurry.

I looked around the room, my
gaze finally landing on the clock.  Six-fifteen.  “Damn.”  I hauled ass out of
bed.  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

He grunted in reply and hung
up.

After throwing on a pair of
semi-clean jeans, a bra and a wrinkled, long sleeved t-shirt, I brushed my
teeth and pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail.  Then I grabbed my bag and
made it to work in ten minutes.

“Sorry I’m late,” I yelled
through the kitchen door.  The smell of fried eggs and cinnamon French toast
made my stomach growl.  Tying a blue and white gingham apron around my waist, I
got to work.  I wanted to make sure Axton’s backpack was still safely hidden
away in the syrup box, but there wasn’t time.  The early crowd was in full
swing.

Ma’s Diner was a hole in
wall.  A little brick building with no sign, a place you’d drive past and never
notice.  Ma’s served breakfast.  Period.  If you wanted a sandwich, it better
be an egg sandwich or you were out of luck.  We were open seven days a week,
excluding Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, from six to one.  And if you
came in at twelve fifty-five, you took it to go.

Ma’s hadn’t changed much
since it opened in 1956—I’d seen the pictures to prove it.  Wallpaper patterned
with big baskets of fruit was now yellowed and dingy.  Ten rectangular tables
topped with pink Formica speckled with little pieces of gold glitter were
scattered throughout the room, and none of the chairs matched. 

Ma came in five times a
week.  At almost eighty, she still waited tables like a pro.  Her real name was
Marty, but I’d never heard anyone call her that.  She was a favorite with the
customers, especially older ones who liked to sit back and shoot the shit.  Ma
would talk to them about the good old days when her husband, Frank, was alive. 
But what she loved to do most was drink black coffee and complain to her son,
Ray, that he never did anything right.  

Lucky for me, Ma had come in
that morning, as evidenced by Neil Diamond’s greatest hits playing over the
speakers.   

When we hit a lull around
ten o’clock, I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned my elbows on the
counter in front of Ma.  Sitting on one of the four counter stools, a food service
order form in front of her, she sported a red sweatshirt with a yellow
rhinestone cat on the front.  Spikes of white hair stood out at odd angles on
her head and large-framed trifocals were perched on the bridge of her nose. 
She tilted her head up with her eyes cast down to the paper in front of her.

“So, why were you late,
toots?” she asked.

“Sorry about that.  Forgot
to set my alarm.” 

“Late night studying?”  She
put down her pen and took a sip of coffee.  

“I should have been, but I
was out looking for Ax.  He’s in trouble, Ma.”  I updated her on all things
Axton.  “I’m really worried about him.”

Roxy poured herself a cup of
coffee and stood next to me.  “What’s the big deal?  This is Ax we’re talking
about.  I mean, where would he run off to?”

 “It is a big deal, Rox. 
Giving me his backpack?  A strange man lurking in the woods leaving cryptic
messages?  Something is off.”

As I spoke, Ray carried two
plates out of the kitchen.  He set a ham and cheese omelet in front of me and a
cinnamon roll in front of Roxy.

“Thanks, Ray,” I said over
my shoulder. 

“Uhm.”

“You put too much pepper in
the gravy this morning, son,” Ma said to his retreating back.  “Boy always uses
too much damn pepper.  Anyway, call Axton’s office and see if he came in this
morning.”  

“I figured I would.  I’ll
call his brother, too.”

Roxy polished off the last
of her cinnamon roll and stared at her empty plate.  “What am I supposed to do
now?”

“What do you mean, hon?” Ma
asked.

“I want a cigarette.  What
do you people do after you finish eating?  What is there to do besides smoke?”

Ma peered at her.  “Your
job?”

Scowling, Roxy picked up a
rag and began wiping down tables.

I finished eating and went
back to work.  We had a steady flow of customers until one o’clock when Ma
flipped the closed sign.

As soon as my last customer
was out the door, I hustled to the pantry.  I pulled the syrup box off the
shelf and hauled out Ax’s backpack.  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I
started with the outer pocket and found a disposable lighter and a small
package of tissues.  I shoved them back and unzipped the main compartment,
drawing out each item and inspecting it thoroughly.  Nothing had suddenly
appeared overnight.  It was still just ordinary Axton stuff.

I set the laptop on the
floor and booted it up, but without his password, I didn’t get very far.  I
tried his birthday (January 13th), his favorite movie (
Avatar
), his
favorite comic book series (
X-men
), characters from his favorite book (
Lord
of the Rings
), and even “George Lucas is a god.”  Nothing.

Frustrated, I stuck
everything back in the bag, placed the bag back in the syrup box, then put the
box back up on the shelf.  There must be something on the laptop.  But since I
couldn’t even log on, that was a bit of a problem.

I walked to the dining room
where Ma scrubbed down the counter and Roxy swept the floor.  “I just checked
Ax’s backpack again.”

Ma raised her penciled brows
and Roxy stopped smacking her gum.

“Nothing.  And I don’t know
the password for his computer.”

“Bummer.”  Roxy resumed her
chomping.

“Go ahead and call his
office, toots.” 

Since my phone had limited
minutes, I used the wall phone next to the kitchen and called Ax’s cell number
first.  His voicemail was full, so I tried his office number.  It rang six
times before someone answered.  When I asked for Ax, I got a ‘No, he didn’t
bother showing up today’ before the phone slammed down.