Page 26 of Win You Over
We drive for about fifteen minutes, heading to the outskirts of town and into a leafy residential area with modestly sized houses with rolling green lawns. He takes some turns before bringing us to a stop outside a nondescript-looking diner. The D of the neon light above the door is broken, the name now readingMandy’s iner.
There’s a tremble of trepidation in my chest, a rumbling of nerves about venturing into a new place. I do my best to ignore it, leaning forward to take a good look at the place through the windscreen.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Remington remarks, throwing his door open and climbing out. I follow suit, walking behind him into the diner. A bell sounds when we walk in, the door rattling shut behind us. It smells as you would expect it to smell – like grease and fried meat, but with a hint of syrupy sweetness.
“Remington!” an older lady with a graying bob shouts, coming over to hug the man next to me. “You haven’t been by in ages. Thought you’d forgotten about us.”
“Never!” Remington quips. He turns to me. “Mandy, this is my newfriend,Holden.” I don’t miss the emphasis he puts on the word. This boy is a dog with a bone sometimes.
“Nice to meet you, Holden,” Mandy says, giving me a wave of her hand. “Same as always, Rem?”
“Times two, please,” he answers, but then turns to me. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”
My heart pounds and words burn at the back of my throat with the need to tell him that no, I’m not, but that I also doubt I have enough cash on me to cover whatever his ‘usual’ is. But it’s a fruitless task trying to talk in a diner filled with people. So instead, I shake my head and hope to God my bank account has enough in it to cover this meal.
“Great, I’ll bring that right over. You two find a seat.” Mandy saunters away, picking up used plates from two tables as she steps behind the counter and into the area I presume is the kitchen.
Looking around, I take in the sixties decor. The red and white booths, walls covered in portraits of movie stars and singers. There’s maybe three open tables, the rest occupied by couplesand groups in various stages of eating their lunch. Tall glasses of milkshakes, piled high with cream and sprinkles, sit in front of two children, so small that the top of the cream meets the top of their wide eyes. Fuck, I hope our order includes one of those.
Remington leads us over to a table at the window, and I slide into the booth opposite him. He empties the pockets of his jeans as he sits down, placing his keys, wallet, and phone to one side before setting a pad of orange notes and a pen in front of me.
The gesture – the fact that he came prepared – does something to my heart and sends a dangerous crack through the walls I’ve erected to keep people out. No one, not even Theo, considers me to this extent, in mundane moments like having lunch.
How did you find this place?I scribble on the block of paper.
“My mom. She worked here when she was on her backpacking trip before she met my dad. Mandy had only recently opened it and needed the help. Mom and Mandy have stayed friends ever since. You can’t get better milkshakes on this side of the country. In fact, I’m not sure you can get them better anywhere in the world!”
I smile at his enthusiasm, experiencing a wave of excitement at sharing this with him.
“How was work?” he asks.
Boring. Uneventful.I write.
“You don’t like your job?”
I don’t hate it. But it’s not my dream to spend my life there. It’s a temporary step while I work out the rest of my life.
Mandy returns to our table, a tray in her hands, piled high with food.
“Two servings of ribs, two servings of chicken wings, curly fries, side salads, and two chocolate milkshakes.” She lays all the food out in front of us and my eyes bulge at the portion sizes. I survive mostly on fruit, bread and ramen. I’m not sure mystomach will handle this amount of food. I’m certain my wallet won’t.
“Thanks, Mandy. Add it to my tab.”
“Always, sweet boy,” she says, ruffling Remington’s hair.
I can’t let you pay for all this, I hurriedly scribble.
“Um, yeah, you can. And besides, I don’t pay for it. My dad does.” Remington shrugs, once again showing me that to him, money is no big deal.
I’ll pay you back.
“Sure,” he says dismissively before ripping into the rack of ribs with his hands. I watch him as he eats the juicy meat, then sucks the bone and his fingers clean. It’s an eye opening experience watching Remington Langford devour a rack of ribs. He’s a perfect specimen of a human, and he eats like a wild animal.
He’s finished his rack of ribs before I’ve even started.
“What do you want to do once you’ve graduated?” he asks, taking a noisy slurp of his milkshake. I take a sip of my own, forcing my eyes not to roll in pleasure. It’s chocolatey, rich, indulgent and delicious.
“Good, right? Fucking orgasmic,” he says around the straw in his mouth. “Now tell me, what are your plans when you’re done?”
