Chapter 3
The manager came over before I could press play again. He was a guy in his fifties with a short-sleeve white shirt and a towel over his shoulder, the kind who knew every regular's car. He'd been watching from the counter.
"Folks, can we keep it down?" he said, not unkind, eyes flicking to the phone under my hand. "Whatever this is, maybe take it outside."
No one answered. The two mugs sat there getting colder. The napkin dispenser had a thin film of grease on its chrome.
She straightened in the booth, hands now folded in her lap, trying to look composed for the room. She wiped once under her eye with a fingertip. "We're fine, sorry," she said to the manager. Her voice shook.
Marcus found his footing again, shoulders back, that practiced calm. "Yeah, we're good, my man. Just a personal thing." He tried a smile at the manager. It looked pasted on.
The manager didn't leave. He glanced at the SMALL TOWN STRONGER TOGETHER poster on the wall like he was thinking about what it meant that morning. "I'm going to have to ask you not to play that speaker in here," he said. "Other customers."
I nodded. I locked the phone. The screen went dark. My hand stayed. "Understood," I said. My throat was dry.
She looked at me then, really looked at me across the table for the first time since I'd sat down. "Can we go outside?" she said. "Just us."
Marcus's hand moved, just an inch toward her arm, then stopped when she didn't turn to him.
I stood first. The vinyl seat made a soft squeak. I picked up the phone, slipped it into my blazer pocket, and felt its weight settle. I left a five by my mug for coffee I hadn't drunk.
We slid out of the booth — him after her, me waiting on the aisle side. The floor tiles were worn near the door. The bell over the door jingled as a couple came in, shaking rain off their jackets, and they stared as we passed.
Outside the air was cold and damp. The parking lot asphalt was dark with rain, puddles reflecting the red DINER sign. Her little blue Crosstrek was parked next to his silver Tacoma, both beaded with water. The highway beyond the lot moved steady, cars hissing past toward Harrisburg.
She pulled her sweater tighter around the dress. The wind lifted her hair. Marcus stood a few feet off, hands in his jacket pockets, looking at the wet road like he was deciding whether to leave.
"You recorded me without telling me," he said to me, voice low, trying for legal weight.
"You talked to my wife like that without thinking she'd ever tell me," I said.
She stepped between us without touching either of us. "Ryan, if you play the rest of that for everyone, you know what happens," she said. Her eyes held mine. "Please don't make me lose my job too."
I looked at the parking lot, at the diner windows now behind us, at the manager watching from inside with his arms crossed. I put my hand in my pocket and felt the phone edge.
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do," I said. "But I'm not pretending I didn't hear it."
She nodded once, tears now running without her wiping them. Marcus watched us both, his jaw working, and the gray morning light made his face look pale.
"Give me an hour," she said. "Meet me at home. Just you and me."
May you like
I looked at Marcus. "You go to work," I said to him. "Stay away from my house."
He didn't answer. He got into his truck, slammed the door louder than he needed to, and pulled out fast, spraying water from a puddle across the white parking lines. We stood there until his taillights disappeared up the road toward town.
