The 'Cousins'

Part Two : Harry's Place, Kyler and Melissa

A/N: I will appreciate guidance if folks don't talk like this or if the vocabulary is too 'english' for the scene. Hope you enjoy the story! 

Greg was unimpressed with the room. Like the town it was past its best with plain, old furnishings to match the fading marked and nauseous green paint on the walls. A short stretch of threadbare carpet, that carried more cigarette burns than weave design completed the appointments. The late afternoon heat was oppressive. Greg switched on the elderly window type air conditioner and stood in front as it delivered a slight relief from the temperature, but with the expense of noise.

Greg slapped it with the back of his hand in frustration.

‘I’ve heard quieter Jumbo jets taking off.’

He showered and changed quickly before making his way back onto the Main Street sidewalk and headed for Harry’s Place. The wispy motel clerk had told him that this was the nearest place where he could get a proper meal if he didn’t want burgers or fried chicken.

‘Where’s the next best place?’ Greg had asked.

The clerk jerked a thumb behind him.

‘You’ll have to drive south on Main to the Truck Stop, where it joins the Interstate.’

Greg gaped in disbelief.

‘You mean you can drive directly from here to the I-80?’

‘Yessir. You sure can.’

‘Then what’s the sign there that says ‘diversion to Main Street’ all about?’

The clerk scratched his temple and screwed up his lips in indecision.’

‘I really don’t know. Nobody knows why that sign’s still there.’

The remark did nothing to improve Greg’s mood and he stormed out of the building onto the side walk just as a zephyr brought more dust to his nose and mouth together with the stench of rotting chicken manure.  He felt the dampness in his armpits and crotch as the late afternoon heat hit him.

“Why did I bother to shower’ he muttered under his breath?

Harry’s Place was painted in garish red and blue colours and fitted out in a traditional style. Greg saw a Bar at the far end end separated by a servery from  tables and chairs for diners at the other end. It fitted the format of the 1950’s, but there were no waitresses on roller skates and the music pulsing around the room was Justin Timberlake’s Summer Love instead of Bill Haley or Elvis.

The juke box faced the entrance; Greg stood in the doorway and looked around for a few moments. A few High School kids clustered around the juke box and ignored him. Half a dozen red-necks sat at the bar and paused from sucking on bottles of Coors to glare at him long enough until the bottle reached their lips again. Several diners sat at tables; singles and couples. He saw Jess White slumped over a table at the far corner being lectured by his girlfriend.

 A small, worried looking man with a balding head distracted Greg, his remaining hair was blackened with pomade, who greeted him anxiously.

‘Table Sir?’

Greg smiled. ‘You must be Harry?’

The man chuckled.

‘Not me. Harry’s my great grandfather and he’s long gone. I’m Merv.’

‘Well thank you Merv, I’ll be dining a bit later but I just wanted to catch up with a couple of friends I see over there.’

Greg felt Merv’s eyes on him all the way to the back table where Jess sat with his face in his hands on the table- like he was sleeping. The girl hadn’t noticed Greg approach and he heard some of what she was saying.