Gary glanced over at the woman. She stood in front of a waist-high counter, past which could be seen a brightly-lit but apparently empty kitchen. She was leaning across the counter, her arms folded beneath her chest and resting on the counter as she talked cozily to another customer, an older bearded man who sat on one of the red stools with the familiarity and assurance of a regular to the diner. The waitress’ heavy breasts threatened to spill from the top of her simple but low-cut dress. A good way to ensure a tip, Gary figured. Her eyes caught Gary’s gaze and she whispered something to the customer. Chuckling, the bearded man looked over at him. And winked.
Gary turned back around on the red bench-cushion. Feeling like a ten-year-old boy caught looking at his dad’s Playboys, his temples drummed hot with embarrassment. Was it his imagination or were the diner’s only other patrons, a couple of big guys in long-sleeved flannel shirts and suspenders sitting across from him in a booth near the door, also shooting glances in his direction? Was he the show tonight? The out-of-towner the locals can get a few chuckles from?
He spoke over his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess she’s something all right.” He shuffled his papers and spread them out upon the table. He lifted his cup to his lips and savored the hot bitterness on his tongue and the cup’s warmth on his hands. He set it back onto the table and, picking up his pen, tried to focus on his work.
“Something else I can get for you?”
Startled, Gary looked up from his note-taking and saw the waitress standing at his booth again. She was holding her order pad in one hand, a pen in the other. Gary’s eyes flicked to her chest. With a red flush he felt wash across his face, he struggled to keep his eyes fixed on her face. “Oh. Sorry,” he said quickly, “I’m not looking to order much tonight. Just the coffee, all right? Thanks.”
The waitress shrugged and, slipping both pad and pen in her dress pocket, strolled back to the counter.
“I’m tellin’ ya, man, that’s some prime backwoods ass. And, lemme tell ya, Randy knows prime ass when he sees it. Sure, maybe she’s a little on the ripe side, damn near old enough to be my Mom, but shit, you catch those titties on her? Goddamn!”
Gary sighed, put his pen on the table and twisted around. “Look, pal, I’m not—”
“Sherri here,” Randy said, shaking the quiescent young girl’s shoulder, “well, she’s alright in the tittie department, I guess, but Christ did you check out hers, man?” He shook his head, his longish black hair wagging from side to side across his pale face. “I mean, fuck me—those’re some serious tits, you know what I’m sayin’?”
Gary felt his cheeks go warm. He patted the air and said, “Look, just keep your voice down, all right?”
“Sure, man. Chill out, it’s cool. ’Sides, screw her—me and Sherri, we’re gonna be seein’ lots of titties tomorrow, ain’t we, baby? Hm?” Randy stretched his arm further over the girl’s shoulder and roughly squeezed her right breast through her jacket. A soft moan, almost a whimper, escaped her tightly-pressed lips. Gary tensed. He noted the grinning young man either didn’t hear the poor kid or simply didn’t care.
“Yeah man, we’ve been thumbin’ rides for more than a week. Got our last one from those two guys over there,” Randy said, pointing at the two men at the table by the door. “Came here to tour that old house up the road where all them murders are s’posed to have been done. Where all them bitches got ripped and chewed up good. And got the fuckin’ of their lives, from what I hear.” His eyes sparkling with feverish excitement, he patted his jacket with his left hand. “Here, I know I got somethin’ about it in here somewhere...”
“Look, that’s all right, I’m not really—”
“Nah, man, I just gotta—yeah, here it is!” Randy pulled out a worn and folded-up sheet of green paper. “Here, you gotta check this shit out.” He leaned over the table and tossed the flyer. It spun and fluttered down over Gary’s shoulder and onto his worksheets. “Hell, we came all the way up from L.A. for this. Check it out, man,” he said, pointing at Gary’s table, “it’s wild.”
“Yeah, uh, all right. Thanks,” he said, turning around in his seat. His stomach was tense and knotted and, God, he was tired. He hoped he was done with this psycho-wannabe, though he felt sorry for the girl. A real shame, seemed like a nice kid.
Gary took a sip of coffee. Barely warm.
“Uh, excuse me, miss?” The waitress grabbed the coffeepot and walked back over to his table. “Could I get some...?” He nodded distractedly at his half-empty cup as he swept up the mess of papers on the table into a pile away from his cup, keeping them safe from any spattering of coffee.
“You sure you want a warm-up?” She glanced at her watch. “Getting kinda late.”
Gary looked up. “What?”
“Just that it’s getting kind of late and we should’ve been closed by now.”
“Look, miss,” Gary said patiently, “I’m not trying to be rude here, but you were open and, yes, I know full well how late it is. That’s actually the reason I need the coffee. So, if you wouldn’t mind...?”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She bent over and slowly, carefully poured the steaming coffee. The tops of her large breasts strained at the thin material of her dress top, the ribbing of her neckline gently cutting into her full, spongy flesh.
Gary forced his eyes back onto his paperwork. “Thanks,” he said to the table as she finished pouring, not daring to look up again until she’d gone. He could feel Randy’s lewd grin boring into the back of his head.
Gary took a sip of his hot coffee; the burnt acrid taste was jolting and wonderful. His eyes strayed to the rumpled sheet of green paper that stood out like a green beacon in a sea of white. Knowing Randy wouldn’t let him alone until he looked at it, he plucked it from his reports, unfolded it and began to read:
THE BEAST HOUSE
invites you to come and visit
...if you dare!!
Since 1932, Malcasa Point’s Beast House on California’s coast has offered visitors from around the world the opportunity to experience firsthand the horrific exploits of the legendary giant Beast!
Come join us and:
* WITNESS the blood-soaked recreations from more than a dozen true monstrous butcheries of sexual savagery that have occurred within these very walls!
* SEE lifelike wax figures of all the Beast’s ravaged victims painstakingly-recreated as they were found—in the very setting and shredded clothing in which they met their violent death!
* EXPERIENCE the legendary horror & FEEL the horror that is...The Beast House!
Admission: $15.00 per person. Includes equipment rental for self-guided audio tour. Tour includes some nudity. Special Midnight Tours given each Saturday night at midnight, $100.00 per person (18 & over).
*** Present this flyer and receive 20% off your total dining bill at the newly expanded Snack Shop
...now offering a full line of gourmet and vegetarian meals at reasonable prices!!
*** 10 Front Street, Malcasa Point, CA (approximately 150 miles North of San Francisco on the coast’s Highway 1)
“So?”
Gary tore his eyes from the flyer and looked back over his shoulder. “What?”
“The Beast House, man,” said Randy, rolling his eyes. “The House. What’dya think?”
Gary reached over and handed it back to him. “Sorry. Not my kind of thing.”
Randy shook his head in disgusted disbelief and folded the green flyer back in his jacket. “Fuck, shoulda guessed.” He whispered something in Sherri’s ear and then said, “Oh, hey—by the way, is that your Volvo out there, the gray one?”