Last Diner Standing
“Maybe we could find some info about that money he’d been flashing around. We drove south to a low-rent neighborhood on a dead end street. Asshat’s tiny house sat toward the back edge of the property and was surrounded by a chain link fence and overgrown hedges. Brown, patchy bald spots and six cars in various states of disrepair covered the large yard. Some were missing doors and hoods. Three old Pontiacs, two Hondas, and one Toyota sat like my nephew, Scotty’s, little toy cars. Except his had... wheels.
“What’s with the cars?” I asked.
Roxy popped her gum. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
We approached the house and I sidestepped a broken lamp. Roxy jumped over a large wall clock with a silhouette of a naked girl—like the kind you see on mud flaps. And we came to a stop in front of an upside-down coffee table that sat cockeyed near the front porch.
“I think this was Janelle’s handiwork,”MoreLess
“What’s with the cars?” I asked.
Roxy popped her gum. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
We approached the house and I sidestepped a broken lamp. Roxy jumped over a large wall clock with a silhouette of a naked girl—like the kind you see on mud flaps. And we came to a stop in front of an upside-down coffee table that sat cockeyed near the front porch.
“I think this was Janelle’s handiwork,”MoreLess
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