Chapter 1 #2
“Cool, drop your bags in whichever room you want, except my room. Do what you need to do. I’m gonna take a quick shower.
I need some breakfast. Tommy says there’s a hole-in-the-wall breakfast place we can eat at close to the liquor store in Mountain Bend.
They couldn’t deliver because of a festival or something they’re having nearby.
Can’t have my alcoholic buddies running out of beer like we did last year.
Figured we’d get it out of the way,” I said, walking through the front door, holding it open until Scout came through.
“Is that smell coffee?” Wyatt asked.
“Full pot in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever’s in there,” I said and headed toward my en suite bathroom.
=?=
For a town tucked out of the way of just about anywhere, the Silver Star Saloon & Café was packed to the brim with patrons.
Scantily dressed, summer heat seekers spilled from the front doors.
Many staying to visit under the awning-covered sidewalk as the sun blazed overhead.
Based on the red, white, and blue decorations that had seen better days adorning both sides of Main Street, the town celebrated the Fourth of July in style.
Clearly, they had gotten everything out of the three-day weekend that could be gotten.
Although I hadn’t lived in this particular small town while growing up, I missed these kinds of festivities. Where the only thing I had to worry about was keeping both hands attached to my arms while shooting off rounds of firecrackers.
Without much thought, I took a turn into the first available parking spot as Wyatt rambled on about something from the back seat. It was funny how easy it was to tune the guy out, though I’d had twenty years of practice.
“You guys go in first, I’ll follow,” I said, cutting off the engine. Yes, in the past, it had been remarkably easy to hide in plain sight, but I never dropped my guard.
“Sure,” Wyatt said, grabbing the roll bar of my Jeep, jumping from the back seat to the pavement in a single motion. Scout, on the other hand, used the door like a human being.
“Walk in the middle of us. I’ll handle recon,” Scout instructed.
“Better plan.” We fell in line easy enough. I took a quick glance down the street, flipping my ball cap around so the bill faced the front as I searched for the liquor store. No place stood out, but the relaxation I’d managed to achieve since arriving held firmly in place.
Like most of the time, Wyatt garnered all the attention with his friendly smiles and southern drawled howdies.
Wyatt fit here, as if he were a local. Any eyes fascinated by the new arrivals overlooked me in favor of staring at Scout bringing up the rear.
The shift came with apprehension. Something about the energy he radiated drew all gazes like prey wary of a potential predator.
He was a big guy, but the no-nonsense resting bitch face had people quickly casting their curious glances away. Better for my anonymity that way.
Wyatt pushed through the bar’s front doors then through another set of authentically old saloon doors.
The knocking bells drew all eyes to us. Eight-foot folding tables filled the main room with zero formality or any hint of a seating arrangement.
The chairs were the standard metal fold-out seats, rolls of paper towels were stationed on the tabletops at intervals of about every other chair.
The plates were cream-colored melamine, surely chosen for their shatter-resistant nature.
Since Wyatt was in the lead, he navigated in and out of the tables, taking the three free seats farthest from the door.
They were against the wall in a corner, sitting side by side.
Scout took one side of Wyatt, I took the other.
From this angle, I had a vantage point for the entire dining room and anyone who walked through the front doors.
When I moved in the seat to get comfortable, the chair creaked and scraped against the back wall.
The deep indention in the walnut paneling proved I wasn’t the first patron to have that problem.
“Serves one plate of food, called the Cowboy breakfast,” Wyatt said, reading from a chalkboard positioned on the bar top.
“The variation comes with whether you wanna add a pancake or not. Good enough. You won’t get lost in decidin’ what you want.
” His elbow popped out, hitting teasingly against mine.
This simple eating experience might actually be one of the top five reasons why I loved this part of the world.
They served one meal, scrambled eggs, three pieces of bacon, hash browns, and biscuits with peppered country gravy.
Like Wyatt said, the pancakes, two of them, were optional, one I opted for.
Carbs. I loved and missed eating carbohydrates. Another treat saved for this time of the year.
A waitress, dressed in short, blue jean cutoffs, and a well-worn, tight-fitting Silver Star Saloon T-shirt came to the table.
She carried three plates of food, one placed in front of each of us.
Wrapped silverware came from her back pocket, and those were handed over in the same fashion as the plates.
“Pancakes?” she asked, never fully looking at us as she wrote on a small pad.
“We all want the pancakes, right?” Wyatt didn’t wait for our answers as he continued. “And I’ll take an extra plate of breakfast.”
She lifted her gaze to mine. “Coffee?”
Our eyes met. There was no change in her expression. “I’ll have ice water and coffee.”
Scout lifted two fingers. She turned, flipping around without another word.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday,” Wyatt said, sliding his fork from the napkin and digging in.
“You could’ve,” Scout answered, unwinding his rolled silverware.
“He made us stop at Taco Bell. His first meal back in the States, and he wanted Taco fuckin’ Bell.” The tone showed Wyatt’s disgust with that selection.
Scout shrugged as if Wyatt were the dumbest person on the planet.
Thankfully, neither said much more except the few hums and grunts Wyatt gave as he devoured his plate of food. Drinks arrived at the same time as the pancakes and Wyatt’s additional plate. The ticket was placed between us.
“No credit cards, only cash,” the waitress said, placing a carafe of coffee in easy reach. “If you need me to make change or anything else, raise your hand. Thanks for stoppin’ in.”
Probably the cash-only part should have been mentioned beforehand, but I had the money thanks to Tommy leaving cash with the liquor store’s address on an envelope.
I rivaled Wyatt’s gusto in eating my food, finishing everything on my plate before I was completely full. Apparently, relaxation and a good home-cooked meal made me hungrier than normal. “So Bryce settled down?”
“Yep. And she’s female and pregnant with a real baby. Not the humanoid we thought Bryce was,” Wyatt added in his sarcastically funny and accurately direct way of speaking.
Maybe the lack of carbs was to blame for the reason I eyed the last bite on Wyatt’s second plate.
A piece of perfectly prepped biscuit with butter and strawberry jam was literally calling my name.
I could hear it in the farthest recesses of my mind.
Wyatt’s theory on any meal was the best piece needed to be savored and saved for the end.
Stealthily, I swiped the biscuit off Wyatt’s plate and took a large bite.
“Hey!” Wyatt shouted, calling all the attention in the room to them.
Instant anger flashed over Wyatt’s brow seconds before he leaped on top of me, grabbing for the remaining bite.
I had the biscuit out of reach when a perfectly executed throat punch sent me reeling.
I choked, the big bite lodging in the center of my esophagus.
“If no one saw you before, they do now. Thanks to Wyatt,” Scout said.
Wyatt lifted a fist pump in the air, gaining a round of yeehaws from the other customers. I, on the other hand, was in concerning peril. My hand cupped my throat, trying to cough up the bite or swallow it down.
“If Slade doesn’t choke to death, we probably need to hit the road.”
“Don’t touch my food again. I was savin’ it for the last bite,” Wyatt added, his finger in my face.
“And you’re payin’.” Wyatt was between me and Scout, crowding Scout to stand and let him by.
Con’s chair scraped along the floor, while I was still in recovery mode, reaching for my untouched glass of water.
Jeez, that was an effective move. Thankfully, seconds later, it swallowed through with a long gulp of the water.
“I’d’ve heimliched you,” Scout said, laying twenty dollars on the table. “Come on.”
He didn’t wait for me, instead following Wyatt’s mazed path to the door.
With the way we’d just behaved, if I was going to be identified, it would have happened then.
When I got a decent breath down to my lungs, I let the rest of the pain go, happy no one spotted me. I paid the rest of the tab and left. The sun hit as a smile touched my lips. Life was pretty perfect out here.