Page 1 of House of Cards

Zoey

I rush out Slice of Heaven’s back door as fast as the bulging trash bag allows, grimacing every time it bumps into my shins.

But I’m not fast enough.

The image of my mother’s body sprawled on the bricks, blood pooling beneath her head like a grisly halo, assaults me as soon as I’m clear of the door.

God, I hate being out here.

It’s been three years, and I still can’t shake the memory of coming out here that fateful night and finding my mother lying in the alley. She was in the hospital for almost a month before she succumbed to her injuries.

It’s not like in the movies.

All the time I spent sobbing at her bedside, she never once opened her eyes. There was no final goodbye. No last minute, inspiring piece of life advice to carry me through the rest of my days.

My last memory is that of a frail, disintegrated figure violated with plastic tubes. I can still smell that hospital room sometimes. Harsh disinfectant battling the sinister odor of death.

The cops called it a ‘mugging gone wrong.’

Nothing’s been right since.

The dumpster lid crashes closed, the sound echoing back from the narrow alley behind the back of the diner that leads to the delivery service road.

That’s where it happened.

Every time I come out here, I tell myself not to look.

Every time, I do.

My heart misses a beat when I spot the SUV parked in the alley. Matte black, with tinted windows so dark they look painted on. A breeze rifles through my hair, carrying the scent of cigarettes and weed over to me.

Just some guys getting high in an alley.

But I can’t shake the feeling of fingers crawling up my spine.

I shouldn’t even be taking out the trash. It’s Ricky’s job, but he’s been AWOL for nearly two weeks. A normal sibling would have called the cops, filed a missing persons or something.

But this is perfectly on brand for my brother.

He shows up with a stack of money and his charming smile when things are good, then ghosts the second shit gets real. Says he’s working, but I’ve never heard of a job where you’re paid to hang out around blackjack tables with women who are only business associates by the loosest definition of the word. He’s been a flake ever since Mom passed, and while I know things have been rough, if I have to adult, so does he.

I love my brother, but fuck it if he’s not the reason I have trust issues. We’re supposed to be running this diner together, but half the time he’s off doing his own thing, leaving me to do all the workandwonder whether he’s still alive.

Then there’s all the missing money. It’s happened less often the past couple of months, but before that, Ricky was stealing regularly from the diner.

As I turn to go back inside, the driver inside the mystery SUV switches on the headlamps. The beam picks me out like a spotlight on stage.

“The fuck?” I squint, my hand flying up to shield my eyes.

The high beams blink twice before going dark.

Yeah, like I’m falling for that. The Universe will have to find a better way of luring me down that alley.

I hurry inside the diner, slam the door closed, and slide back all three deadbolts. They don’t seem enough when it’s almost midnight and I’m the last one left in the diner. I was waiting for Mr. Wells to come by for his coffee and pie at eleven thirty, but it looks like the old man stiffed me tonight.

Still have to cash up, but there’s no fucking way I’m hanging around here any longer.

I turn, headed for the front of the diner, when the jolly tinkle of the bell rings out.

---