Runaways (Orphans 5)

"We could go to the police," she said.

"They're going to ask why we didn't come to them when we had the drugs in our hands," Raven said.

"We should have," Crystal said mournfully. She looked back through the rearview window as if there were some way we could return to the spot and put the cocaine back into the plastic bag. "We're really in deep water," she said. "We just better keep running until we think of something else to do."

Together with the change we had found under the seat, we had a little more than eleven dollars. My stomach was growling, too, so when we saw a sign advertising the Crossroads Restaurant, I turned off the highway.

"I just hope it's not an expensive place," Crystal said.

When we set eyes on it, we didn't think it would be. It wasn't rundown, but it looked unpretentious: a restaurant in a building that might have once been someone's home. There was a parking lot in front, two gas pumps, and the road sign advertising,

CROSSROADS RESTAURANT, EAT HERE AND GET GAS.

"I hope that isn't a comment on the food," Raven quipped. Crystal and I laughed.

We saw a large trailer home to the right of the restaurant with a sick patch of lawn and a rundown mower in front. Behind the restaurant there was a small cottage, the front windows boarded up, a drainpipe dangling from the right side of the roof. There were a half dozen other cars and three pickup trucks in the parking lot when we pulled up. The screen-door was open and we could hear the sound of country music being played inside.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Crystal answered cheerily. I could tell she was trying to make everyone feel better.

We all got out and entered the restaurant. It wasn't as small inside as we thought. There were tables on the right and left but no booths. Directly in front of us was a counter with very worn-looking black vinyl-- covered stainless-steel stools, and behind it was the kitchen, wide open to view. A short, thin black man with two patches of stark white hair on the sides of his head was cooking over a grill. He gazed up with some interest and then went back to his griddle cakes, eggs and bacon, and muffins, all of which filled the air with delicious aromas. My stomach did flip-flops in anticipation and from the looks on the faces of Crystal, Butterfly and Raven, theirs did, too.

A tall woman with drab-looking dark brown hair that had dull gray strands woven through worked the counter and apparently was the only waitress. Her eyes looked watery, bloodshot, and tired, which fit her ashen complexion. She wasn't stout, but she had large upper arms. Her full bosom strained the tight white blouse, which had the top two buttons undone, divulging a deep cleavage. I could see it was a sight not missed by her customers, all males. Her black skirt was tight, so tight that her hipbone was embossed on both sides. She paused, put her hands on her waist and gazed at us.

"If you're here to eat something, find a seat yourselves," she ordered.

The customers, all looking our way, smiled. One man stuffed his face with an egg-soaked piece of bread as he watched us go to a table.

"Looks like you should go wake Danny, Patsy. This is a real morning rush, huh?" he said.

"You go wake him. Might as well try to wake the dead," she muttered. Everyone laughed.

"I can wake him for you," a tall, well-built man of about forty claimed. He was sitting at a table. It was apparent that the place was small enough and the customers familiar enough with each other to participate in everyone's conversations.

"If you were the one to wake him, Gordy, I know he wouldn't be any good to me ever," she replied.

"That's not much of a loss. He's not any good to you now," Gordy responded and everyone smiled or laughed again.

"Don't remind me," she said, turning to take a plate of hot cakes from the cook and then slap it down in front of a customer at the counter. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and came around the corner to us. She had no menus in her hands, but seemed to know immediately what I was thinking "Breakfast menu's on the wall," she said, nodding to a blackboard on the left.

Everything was cheap enough, but if the four of us ordered something each, we wouldn't have enough money. Crystal studied the board.

"What are you girls doing out this way?" she asked, looking from me to Butterfly and then to Raven and Crystal.

"We're traveling," I said, "and saw your sign."

"Told you it pays to advertise," the man called Gordy shouted. Some of the customers at the counter laughed.

"Shut your face," she told him "I have real business here."

He laughed harder. She turned back to us. "Can we get one order of pancakes, two eggs, two large orange juices and two coffees?" Crystal asked. "For all of you?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said.

The woman stared.

"How much money do you have?" she asked sharply.