Page 38 of The Last Good Man

His question catches me unprepared.

I just had dinner.

Well, it’s been a couple of hours.

I’m not hungry, but I don’t remember the last time I walked into a diner, let alone ate in one, so I open my mouth and quickly say, “Yes. Eggs, hash browns, and waffles.”

He flashes a grin.

“You’re quite hungry for someone whodidn’thave sex.”

I gesture to him to leave me alone.

He does just that, laughing, the door closing over his last words before I crash into my seat, tilt my head back, and pin my gaze on those people.

I swiftly remember he has a gun, and I jolt forward to check the glovebox.

It’s right there. Brand new and shiny.

I close the glove compartment and slump back again, my eyes on the tall, muscular man who’s trusted his ride with me.

He stops in front of those men and starts chatting with them while I think about my food and contemplate my new life.

And then I realize that I don’t even know his name.

8

MELODY

He gestures to a teen propped against the wall and reaches inside his pocket.

The boy stopsin front ofhim and listens carefully before receiving some cash.

My companion gives him directions, and soon after, the teen enters the diner and makes a beeline for the counter.

The place gives off vintage vibes with shiny red benches, wooden tables, cakes tucked under glass domes on the counter, and red and white uniforms.

The food must be good as the place is packed.

I focus on the man who’s promised to take me home tonight.

His name… Yeah, his name.

I start digging for my phone.

“Why didn’t I do this last night?” I murmur, powering my phone on and looking for his number.

I type it in the search engine and check the results.

Moments later, I pay a fee on some website, hoping to find the owner’s name.

I get zero information. Not so surprising, though. He must use a burner.

Maybe I need some professional help.

My brother–in–law is good with this, but I won’t call him in the middle of the night with such a strange request.

Plus, I know the owner.

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