Chapter Seven
JULIA
“Have we really only been driving for two hours?” I ask, covering a yawn with the back of my hand.
Lucas glances at his watch. “Yup.”
He’s been quiet since my impromptu Bryan Adams sing-along, and I don’t know why. It’s not an unusual occurrence for me to break out in song. In fact, some of my students have even asked me if I believe my life is a musical.
My answer is, some days, yes.
So if it’s not my song that caused the radio silence, I don’t know what did. I can’t just flat-out ask him, because knowing him when he gets like this, his answer will just be “nothing.” So I’ll wait it out.
Turning my head to look out the window, I take a deep breath, knowing he’ll come around. I just need to let him stew in whatever’s on his mind.
The sound of the turn signal grabs my attention as an exit sign blurs past.
“We’re stopping in Flat Rock Falls? I’ve never heard of this place before.”
“We need gas, and I think it’s a good time for a break, don’t you?” he asks, steering the truck into the exit lane.
“Yup, I could stretch my legs.”
Considering we just finished driving through the mountains, the sudden flatness is shocking as soon as we exit the highway.
They weren’t kidding when they named this town.
“Why do you think it’s called Flat Rock Falls, anyway? Do you think the rocks themselves fall, or there’s a waterfall over the flat rocks?”
“No idea,” he says plainly.
I guess I’ll be searching that online later.
We pull into the first gas station we see, and I don’t waste any time jumping out and running into the store. If there’s one thing I love about a road trip, it’s finding snacks that I can’t get back home.
Walking the aisles, I scan all the treats, mostly seeing ones I’m familiar with, but wasting no time grabbing the ones I haven’t seen before.
Salted caramel cookie dough chocolate bar? Yes, please.
Variety pack of beef jerky? On it. Lucas is going to love this one.
I round out the snacks with a couple of bags of chips and some pop, struggling under the weight of everything I’ve grabbed.
“Long drive?” the cashier asks, scanning my items.
“Yeah, we’re coming from Pinehaven on our way to Vancouver,” I say, stifling a yawn.
“You’re the third person today to come in saying they’re going to Vancouver today.” He doesn’t look up as he continues scanning. “Normally, that’s not unusual, but you’re the first one not to talk endlessly about some Fake South band.”
I snicker. Fake South.
He’s an older man with grey hair and a beard, and Larry embroidered on the patch on his shirt. I take him for more of a rock’n’roll fan rather than pop music, and his grumpy demeanour also lets me know he wasn’t thrilled with the other customers he’s had today, so I don’t correct him on the name.
“It’s a popular concert. I heard they sold out three shows at that arena. You’ll probably get some more stopping by in the next couple of days.”
Did I manage to secure tickets to the last of those three days? Yes.
Was it my first choice? No. It caused what felt like multiple panic attacks and a near meltdown, but I got them.
“Great,” he huffs.
“So…” I look around, trying not to look like one of those Fake South fans.
“My friend and I were hoping to grab some lunch before we hit the road again…” I point my thumbs toward the road.
Why? I don’t know, but at least I didn’t start singing “Hit the Road Jack.” I’ll take the small win.
“Is there somewhere in town you can recommend?”
Larry looks up, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your friend, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s right out there at pump two.”
He looks over and chuckles as Lucas fights to get the gas hose out of the tank area. “Well, that’s an old truck if I’ve ever seen one. I’m surprised it still drives.”
Barely. It barely drives.
“Alright, I’ll tell ya a place, but you can’t say you heard it from me.”
I lean in, ready to hear the town’s biggest secret. “I won’t tell a soul. Other than my friend, of course. He’s the driver.”
He nods, leaning in a bit more and whispers, “Around the corner and down a block and a half. Between Arnold’s Repair Shop and JM’s Glass. No banner. No sign.”
“And this is an actual restaurant?” Doubt creeps in. What if this goes from a fun gas-station visit to a murder mystery podcast real fast?
“Yes, but we like to keep out the riffraff.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Tourists.”
“But aren’t we tourists? How would they let us in? They’ll know we’re not from here.”
He leans in impossibly farther. “Sasquatch.”
I pull back. “What? Is he around? Is it real?”
“What? No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He shakes his head and sighs, like it’s so impossible I’m not following his train of thought. “Just tell them the word sasquatch, and they’ll let you in.”
“Is there a bouncer or something?” I ask, tapping my credit card to the machine as he pushes it toward me.
“I’m beginning to regret telling you about this.”
I school my face, trying to appear as serious as I can be. “I’m sorry, I’m listening.”
“As soon as you walk in, there’s a woman named Eleanor who’s going to ask you if she can help you. Just say the word, and you’ll be seated.”
So there is a bouncer.
A bouncer named Eleanor.
I need to see this.
“Got it,” I say with a nod, keeping my very serious face on, even if this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
He still eyes me warily as I grab my bag and make for the door. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but now my curiosity is getting the best of me.
Walking as fast as I can back to the truck, I try my best not to look like I’m fleeing from whatever happened back there. I make it back just as Lucas is climbing in, looking more like himself than he has for the last hour.
“Are you okay?” he asks as I rush past him.
“Yup,” I answer quickly, praying the paper bag in my hand doesn’t break under the weight.
“What happened in there?” he asks as we buckle our seatbelts.
“Well, I, um, got a recommendation for lunch.” I don’t look at him, placing the bag at my feet.
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
“It’s fine… I think.”
“You think?” He grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Do I need to go in there and have a talk with that guy?”
“What? Larry? No.” I shake my head.
“You’re on a first-name basis with him now?” He relaxes a little into this seat but still sends a cautious glance back to the store.
“He’s harmless. Odd, but harmless. He told me about a place for lunch, but it’s very—secretive.”
“What do you mean by ‘secretive’?”
“There’s a code word.” Lucas stares at me blankly. “And possibly a bouncer named Eleanor.”
“For a diner?”
“Well, it’s not open to riffraff, as he put it…”
“I’m still not following.” He turns in his seat to face me, one arm resting on the steering wheel.
My heart does a weird flip.
Why does the way he’s sitting give me that reaction?
“Are we the riffraff?” he continues, taking his ballcap off, running his free hand through his hair, and placing it back on—backwards. “What is the code word?”
Double flip.
“Uh, yeah. We’re not from Flat Rock Falls, so therefore, we are riffraff.” I hope my words don’t sound as flustered as they felt. “And it’s sasquatch, but we can’t say that Larry is the one who gave it to us.”
What is happening?
“Sasquatch… And how did you find out about this?”
“Larry told me.” I shrug my shoulders. “I guess we are less riffraff? Anyway, did you want to check this place out or go to the next town over? I get the idea that there isn’t much else here.”
“It definitely doesn’t seem like there’s much going on. I don’t even see another business anywhere.” Lucas leans forward, glancing down the street. “I didn’t think we really had towns this small in BC.”
“Neither did I, but here we are.” The corner of my mouth ticks up in what I’m hoping is a reassuring smile.
“Take the corner here. He said it’s just down between a car place and a glass shop.” He looks at me blankly again. “Just trust me, okay?”
“You, I trust. Are you sure we can trust this Larry guy? What if we’re going to walk into a biker club house?”
“In Flat Rock Falls?”
“You don’t know. Or maybe there’s an underground Mafia here.”
“Do we even have the Mafia in Canada?”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever the Canadian version of that would be.”
“I highly doubt there is an underground Canadian Mafia, but if you’re too scared to find out, we can go somewhere else…
” I glance down at my nails, freshly painted in neon squiggly lines and black polka dots, looking like they’re straight out of Saved by the Bell.
I’m trying to play off that I’m not interested, but I’m biting the inside of my cheek trying not to smile, watching him squirm.
“Scared? No,” he scoffs, adjusting in his seat and starting the truck. “Lead the way.”
A short drive down the road later—really, just around the corner, and with only one stall of the truck—Lucas pulls in front of a nondescript building.
“Are you sure this is it?” he asks, looking up through the windshield.
“This is where he said it would be.” The brick exterior is covered in peeling white paint, mud splattered along the bottom. There isn’t even a sign letting anyone know that there’s an open business inside.
“Do you really want to do this? I’m sure there’s a fast-food joint in the next town over, or we can live off that bag full of snacks you just bought. Vancouver’s only a couple more hours away.”
“Don’t be silly. Larry wouldn’t lead us astray,” I say, even if I don’t truly believe it.
“You trust him that much, huh?” Lucas asks, smirking.
I don’t know what to say, because what can I say? Yes, I fully trust this man I’ve never met, in a town I’ve never even heard of, about a diner that’s not supposed to exist?
Instead, I bob my mouth open and closed like a fish. I can’t change gears, though. I’ve come too far.