Page 5 of Axle's Angel
“Fuck sakes man, you should get that checked out. You crack more than crispies.”
“I know,” he chuckles, slapping my back as I stand next to him, “getting old is shit.”
“Not sure who you’re calling old,” I say, walking toward the door. “I’m a man in my prime.”
“Oh, I’ll say you are, honey,” Lala smirks at me as I turn around.
“Hey, Lala. How are you, gorgeous?” I buss a kiss to her cheek as I walk past.
“Enough of that you,” she grins and pats her white hair. Lala is a fixture in this diner, has been for about fifty years. She still wears bright blue eyeshadow from the seventies, and pink lipstick that I’m sure she wore as a teenager. She and her husband have run this diner forever. He passed away a few years ago, and Roman and I made a point of stopping in every few months to check on her.
“Everything been okay, darlin’?” Roman asks, sliding into the seat opposite me.
“Nothing new to report,” she smiles, filling up our coffee cups. “You boys want the special? It’s smothered pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes. There's pecan pie for dessert.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
“I’ll let Les know, and bring them out when they’re ready.”
“Thanks La,” I reply.
She’s true to her word, delivering our food in short order. Roman and I are quiet as we eat. We finish it off with the pie, then pay and leave, making sure that Lala knows to call us if she needs anything.
I’m putting my helmet on when I swear I hear the echo of familiar laughter. Laughter I’ve not heard in twenty-eight years.
I let my hand holding the helmet fall to my side and I step away from my bike as I look around, but can’t see anything out of the ordinary. Certainly, no blonde hair.
“You okay, bud?” Roman asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, unsettled, and return to my bike. “I thought I heard someone I knew once.”
His dark eyes meet mine. He knows my history, and a few years ago he’d encouraged me to hire a private investigator. I had, but he’d not been able to find anything on Angel. “You still look for her?”
“Not as much anymore but yeah, every now and then I still ask.”
“Check with Lala, you won’t rest easy until you do.”
“You reckon?”
“Axle, I know you. We’ve been friends for over twenty years. Go show her the picture.”
Tipping my chin in agreement, I turn and walk back into the diner.
Lala turns to look at me with surprise, “Did you forget something, sugar?”
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I take out the picture that I’ve carried near my heart for twenty-eight years. It’s a picture of me and Angel at one of the many fairs our small town held. We’re standing wrapped in each other’s arms with her curvy body held tight against me, and she’s laughing at the camera. A friend took it for us.
I hold it out to Lala. “Have you seen anyone that looks a little like her? She’d be forty-six, her name's Angel, or at least it was.”
Lala’s eyes flick from me to the photo and back again. “Is this you with her sugar?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking for her for twenty-eight years,” I admit.
Lala looks up at me. “Someone that could have been her was in here a few days ago. She came in with two other women younger than her. They were going to look at a business a few towns over. They didn’t say which town or where. You want me to call you if they come in again? I can stall them.”
Hesitating, I take the photo back from her and look at it for a second. “Yeah, Lala, call me.”
“Twenty-eight years is a long-time, sugar. That's why you never got involved with anyone?”
