Page 43 of Corrupting Ivy

He cooked up her order as I watched her through the slit in the wall. She kept shifting in her seat. Her eyes wandered all over the diner, staring at each man around her. Randall thankfully had his back towards her, but she kept moving her head up and down and side to side as if to get a better look at him from around the customers that sat between them.

Crap.

“I forgot to give her water.” I groaned. Having to make extra trips around this woman pushed the good luck I didn’t have. Picking the cleanest glass—one without water spots—I filled it with water from the soda machine and placed it in front of her.

She studied the glass, then took it in her hands and spun it around with her thumb and forefinger. I’d watch Randall do that countless times at the bar with his whiskey.

The woman took a sip, then placed it back down while I backed away, hoping not to trigger the fragile woman.

Ding. “Order up.”

Randall sat thumbing away on his phone, his gaze sometimes settling on me, catching me staring at him. There was that false sense of security again. I wished I had the time to kill or even a phone. I’d have the sheriff on speed dial whenever she came around and play stupid games just to pass the time. But it was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I walked past him and grabbed the food from the window, but not before I took in his current state. His forehead creased as he drew his brows together, his eyes narrowing on his screen. If his phone had feelings, I could imagine it pissing itself and apologizing profusely.

The thought made me suck in my lower lip and bite down, stopping me from laughing and making a fool of myself in front of everyone. Placing the plate of food in front of the woman, I stepped back like I was feeding a rabid dog. She’d bite my hand if given the chance.

She ate her food while I busied myself wiping down the menus, wrapping the silverware in napkins, then putting them in their containers. Filling the last of the ketchup bottles, I twisted the lid on and placed it on the bottom shelf below the counter. A plate shattered against the wall where my head had just been.

I screamed and covered my head with my hands as the ceramic shards rained down around me.

“You poisoned it. They put you up to this. Didn’t they?”

Pain seized my chest as my heart rate spiked. I stood from my crouched position.

The woman stuck two fingers down her throat, spewing her freshly eaten food onto the counter. It spilled over the counter, hitting the floor with a splat. I clasped my hand over my mouth as my stomach churned, my toast threatening to join her eggs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I clambered away, then gagged.

She screamed a full-bodied scream, straight from the horror movies, as people moved away from her with disgust. Some heaving, just like me. Please, God, let them keep it down. The last thing I needed was to clean up her mess and the mess of others.

The woman climbed onto the counter, coming after me. I fisted a blunt steak knife from the container, ready to add her blood to the floor if she came any closer. She stopped mid-motion like she’d hit the end of a bungee jump, then jerked backwards. Randall stood with her hair fisted in his hands, then threw her to the ground.

She wailed as she rose to her feet. “Don’t do it, Ma. I will hurt you.”

I stood, placing my hand on the shelf.Ma? This psycho woman was… “She’s your mother?”

The shelf collapsed under my hand, sending knives and spoons clattering to the floor and me back down to my ass. Randall glanced in my direction, giving his mother the opening she needed. She rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist, knocking him off kilter. He took a step back, growled under his breath, then drove an elbow into her back. She released her hold on him, fell to the floor with a pained yelp and a coughing fit.

He pointed his finger at her. “Stay down, Rhonda.”

The diner cleared out like the devil cursed it, which I wasn’t so sure was so far-fetched anymore. She pulled herself up, ready to go another round.

I walked around the counter, kicking the silverware out of my way as I went. Walter appeared around the corner with his hands on his hips. “Rhonda, what is it this time?” he asked. He was much too calm for dealing with this situation.

Randall wrapped his hand around Rhonda’s upper arm as she walked forward.

“She’s trying to kill me. They put her up to it. I know they did.” She narrowed her eyes at me and lunged forward.

I jerked back, bumping into the counter, sending throbbing pain into my hip bone. He gripped her arm tighter, his fingertips disappearing into her flesh, then wrapped his large hand around the back of her neck and escorted her out the door like a child throwing a tantrum.

“What the fuck is going on in this town?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question, even though I expected someone to deliver the answer. When no one spoke up, I dropped the knife onto the counter, then tore at my apron, struggling with the cords that pulled tighter the more I fought it.

“Let me help you, dear,” Barbara said as she placed her hand gently on my back.

I exhaled, my chin quivering, then ran my hands through my hair as she worked the cords free. “Thank you.” Pulling the loop over my head, I set my apron on the counter.

“What happened?” Walter stood with a rag in his hand, his fist on his hip.

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