Fear Thy Neighbor (12)
Chapter Three
A lison couldn’t believe the audacity of the old woman, but it was well worth the forty bucks to get out of there. Right now, she needed caffeine, water, something to eat, beds for the cats, and more cat food. They were meowing. Momma cat crawled to the front of the Jeep, settling in Alison’s lap while her babies rested on the sleeping bag.
“You’re such a good girl. We need to give you fluffy felines names.” Alison scratched the cat between her ears.
A few miles past the motel, as she drove along Highway 41, she saw Mel’s Diner, the sign flashing “Breakfast served twenty-four hours a day.” She parked the Jeep close to the entrance, where she’d have a bird’s-eye view in case Betty and her buddy Tank had made copies of her keys. They might try to steal the car and the cats. And who in the hell named their kid Tank? It wasn’t like he was big, as in the size of a tank. The guy was as scrawny as a broomstick.
Hating to burn up the gas, but knowing she didn’t have a choice, Alison left the Jeep running so she could keep the air on. Those poor souls would burn up in this heat; plus, leaving an animal in a car was against the law, unless it was cool or the air was left on.
Inside the diner, a young girl with short black hair, wearing black pants, a matching apron, and a white blouse, said, “Welcome to Mel’s.”
“Can I get a booth close to window?” Alison asked. There were only a few tables occupied.
“Sure you can,” the girl said. “Follow me.”
Alison sat in a booth large enough for at least six, but she didn’t care, because it wasn’t like there was a line of folks waiting to be seated. Her Jeep was just a few feet away.
“Can I get you a drink?” the girl asked as soon as Alison was seated.
“Yes, please—a water and a coffee.”
When the waitress returned with her drinks, Alison gulped down the water before looking at the menu. Scanning the selections, she decided on the biggest breakfast offered. She didn’t plan on stopping for food, just for gas, until she reached Key West. Though now that she had three passengers, her plans were apt to change. “I’ll have the Fisherman’s Feast, eggs over easy, with crisp bacon. Wheat toast.”
“Gotcha.” The girl scribbled on a notepad, then returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of water.
“Thanks.” Alison drank the water, then took a sip of black coffee. She spied a newspaper on the counter by the cash register. When the waitress refilled her coffee, she asked if she could have a look at the paper.
“Of course, that’s what it’s for.” The girl placed the paper on the table. Alison would wait until she finished breakfast, then she’d scan the paper. Even though most news sources were online, she still preferred an actual newspaper.
Her breakfast arrived. Her mouth watered as she took a bite of crispy bacon. She made fast work of finishing her meal, drinking a third cup of coffee while she perused the ads in the Fort Charlotte Sentinel.
Scanning the real estate page just for the heck of it, she saw a few houses that sounded promising, but they weren’t in Key West. One was a small beach house on Palmetto Island. “Miss, can I borrow a pen and paper?” she asked the waitress.
“Of course. Here you go.” She tore a sheet of paper from her pad and took a pen from her apron. “Keep the pen. I’ve got more where that came from.”
“Thanks,” Alison said. The pen had WELCOME TO MEL’S in hot pink cursive writing, along with the address and phone number. She jotted down the real estate agency’s phone number. Not that she had any firm intention of going there, but she’d keep her options open.
When the waitress brought her bill, Alison laid a twenty on the table and told her to keep the change, knowing how hard it was to earn tips off-season. As she was about to push the door open, someone on the other side pushed forward. Losing her balance, Alison grabbed onto the first hand she found. It was Tank, the taxi driver.
“Better watch where you’re goin’ lady,” he said.
“Kiss off,” she said, stepping away from him with her hand firmly on the door. He reeked of body odor and dead fish. Maybe he worked on a shrimp boat when he wasn’t driving a taxi.
He turned around and gazed at her, his eyes settling on her chest. He snickered, “You ain’t got nothin’ to kiss.”
“And if I did, your nasty ass would have to beg before I’d let you within sniffing distance. You’re disgusting.” She opened the door, in a hurry to get away from his unpleasant odor and attitude. Men like him reminded her of the many foster dads she’d had. Perverted and filthy, with nothing on their minds but sex. No wonder she’d never had a long-term relationship.
Inside the Jeep, she put the car into reverse, then turned the air down, as the car was now too cold, if there was such a thing in Florida. The cats were on the sleeping bag. Momma cat was grooming her kittens, so they were occupied. Alison’s thoughts were all over the place. Her experience on the island had been strange. The motel stay was unlike any she’d experienced, and now this restaurant, where Tank the taxi driver seemed to think he had the right to treat her like trash.
Instead of heading south on Highway 41, she headed back toward the shopping center she’d been walking to before Betty found her. She was going to purchase a cell phone. Alison had never needed one before. She got by using a pay phone when she found one, or she’d borrow a stranger’s cell, and most folks were happy to let her make a call. Pulling into the parking lot, she went inside the Dollar General store, surprised at the variety of merchandise they carried. Last night, she didn’t recall paying much attention to anything except cat stuff. There was everything from groceries to arts and crafts supplies. Clothes, make-up, toys, anything one could purchase in Walmart or Target, though she’d guess the dollar store items were deeply discounted.