Why Now? by Carey Heywood Read Free Book Online

blonde hair and what does she do? Dyes it black.” Her eyes move back to Sydney. “Keep Jake company while I check on his food.”
    Sydney stops her as she passes and kisses her cheek. Mrs. Fairlane continues to grumble about such a waste of glorious hair as she goes but does it smiling.
    Sydney rolls her eyes before turning to me. “She loves to bitch. She hates my hair and all of my tattoos. Thank God she doesn’t know about my piercings.”
    It’s an effort to keep my face neutral and my eyes from searching for any mystery piercings.
    “I haven’t seen you in forever, Jake. How’ve you been?”
    Sydney was never in my immediate circle of friends when I lived here, mainly because she was closer to Reilly’s age than mine. I’ve always been a regular at Lola’s when I lived here and every time I visit. Over the years, we’ve formed somewhat of a diner style friendship.
    “Nothing new with me. Still working the rig. I’m in town to meet with the realtor of Gramp’s house and see Reilly.”
    At Reilly’s name, her face brightens. “It’s so cool to see all the reports she does on the news. We have a TV,” she points toward a flat screen mounted in one corner. “It’s usually on mute with the subtitles going, but when Reilly comes on we listen to her reports.”
    The subtitles are on since the diner plays oldies. There are even mini jukeboxes on each of the booth tables where you can pick the next song that plays for a nickel.
    “She emails me links sometimes. I catch up on them when I’m off the rig. What have you been up to? Last time I was in town your grandmother told me you were living in San Fran.”
    She leans forward to drum her fingers on the counter. “It was a total bust. I followed a guy up there. He turned out to be a fu-,” she cringes, glancing to the customer sitting next to me before continuing, “friggin loser, a lazy one who didn’t want to get a job and thought I’d pay for everything. No, thank you. So, I’m back.”
    Mrs. Fairlane returns with my food. “Here you go, hon.”
    “Thanks, ma’am.”
    She clucks her tongue at me and moves on to refill someone’s coffee at the other end of the counter.
    “Are you back for good or heading off again?” I ask.
    For as long as I’ve known Sydney, she’s been flighty. In the last five years, she’s lived in no less than ten different places, all over the country.
    She tips her head in Mrs. Fairlane’s direction. “She wants to retire and for me to take over the place.”
    The diner has been family owned and run since it first opened its doors. The reason Sydney’s parents haven’t taken over the place is because they no longer live in town.
    Her mom was a transplant from the east coast and talked Mr. Fairlane into moving back there years ago. Without any brothers or sisters, if Sydney doesn’t take the place over, her grandmother will have to sell it.
    “What do you want to do?”
    She leans forward, her elbow on the counter, her chin in her hand. “I have no fu-friggin clue. Do I want to run a diner?” She lifts her shoulder like the movement is her answer. “A piece of me would disappear if Lola’s didn’t exist. This diner has been a home away from home for so long and it’s not like I have this burning desire to do something else with my life.”
    “Running this place wouldn’t be a life sentence if you decided it wasn’t the right fit.”
    Straightening, she squints one of her eyes at me and says, “Not a life sentence. Only you would see that.”
    Her remark surprises me. “Why would you say that?”
    Turning to head to the back, she pauses to look over her shoulder at me. “You’re serving time yourself.”
    She’s gone before I can reply. Mrs. Fairlane comes to check on me and refills my coffee while I quietly eat, contemplating my conversation with Sydney.
    You’re serving time yourself —truer words were never spoken. Only a few people know what I gave up to take on my grandparent’s debt.
    I