“Sometimes the truth can be
Bob and Franny were waiting for us on a bench outside the restaurant.
They were talking a mile a minute and laughing…like they had been friends for years.
In my paranoid, self-centered world, I prayed Franny wasn’t sharing any personal information about me…like how old I was.
Hank got off the bike and then before I could make any attempt to get down…or should I say…before I wasted any more time trying to get down…he just lifted me off the seat and placed me on the ground…like I was three years old.
I swear…I though he was going to pat me on the head…as in ‘good little girl’…but he instead just smiled at me and then walked over to where Bob and Franny were sitting. I followed.
“This looks like a good place,” he said, peering inside the restaurant windows and then turned to me. “What do you think, Cooper? he asked.
He said my name so…so pleasantly. Much better than before…when he was yelling at me
“Looks great to me. Let’s go in.” I said.
Then I almost fainted when Hank grabbed my hand as we headed to the door…like this was an actual date.
There were booths along the back wall of the restaurant, tables by the front window where the family was sitting, a couple of tables in the middle and then a long bar than ran from the front to the back.
There were three men sitting at the bar and they all turned and smiled at us when we walked in the door. I just love small towns.
I bet their jails are nice too…not that I would be seeing one…but just saying…for the record…I don’t mean ‘a record’ as in ‘ a police record’…I mean…
(OH SHUT UP COOPER!!!) *
* As the author of this piece of fiction, I give myself full permission to yell at any character I have created. It’s just one of the perks of the job…along with raking in piles of cash…