I walk into Grab a Java and head to the counter, wondering under what circumstances I would slap another woman. Asami comes to mind.
Grab a Java is its usual groovy self. Today’s barista is a nymphlike little pixie with cropped jet-black hair and a stud in her lip. The chalkboard sign tells me her name is Jack. Of course it is. No girl who looks like that is ever named Susan.
“Hey.” I nod. She nods back. Very hip.
“Double breve, please.”
She nods again. I look around the tiny shop. It has a rustic charm. Metal and wood tables are scattered around the room, as are barrels filled (not really) with coffee beans. The walls are black chalkboard and present the menu of drinks and food—limited but good. Did I mention the avocado toast? All kinds of quips are also scattered around the room; my favorite is “Dear Karma, I have a list of people you missed.” It’s surprisingly quiet for a Saturday—only three people hunched over their computers with their headphones on, a guy writing music notes on a piece of paper, and an older man reading the paper with a dog sitting at his feet.
“Double breve.” Jack speaks her first words to me. “Four twenty-five.”
I pay and toss the change into a jar labeled “Tipping—Not Just for Cows.” Normally I would stay and savor my coffee—being here is like a little vacation—but my mother is probably waiting to stew up the prunes for my dad, so I jump back into the Odyssey and pull onto the street. First, though, I take a selfie in front of Grab a Java and text it to Don. So much for being the reactor.
I notice the battling women are still standing by the side of the road. I take a peek as I go by and lock eyes with Kim Fancy. Five things go through my mind immediately.
1. Hey! There’s Dr. Evil.
2. I wonder if she knows about Grab a Java.
3. Who is she with?
4. Huh, I wonder what they were arguing about?
And finally,
5. Holy shit! One of them bitch-slapped the other.
I’m way past them by the time that final thought enters my mind. I try to remember who slapped who. They were both on the street, but I’m pretty sure the one in white did the smacking so that would be Dr. Evil. Well, no surprise there.
As I’m crossing back into KCMO, my cell phone rings. It’s Nina. I put it on speaker.
“You are not going to believe what I just saw!”
“What’s going on? Where are you? I need to talk to you.”
“I’m driving home. Want to meet me?”
“Sure, but I’m hungry, so can we meet at the place with the signs?”
“I can be there in, like, ten minutes.”
“Well, slow your ass down, ’cause I won’t be there for twenty.”
“K. See you there.”
I laugh and slap the steering wheel. The caffeine is clearly kicking in.
*
The place with the signs is Nina’s and my favorite little diner. It’s actually called Stu’s Diner, but that name just doesn’t do it justice. Not only are there overstuffed red leather booths and an old-school jukebox that doesn’t play anything released after 1977, but also the walls of the restaurant are covered in funny signs that the owner (not named Stu, oddly enough) has collected from across the country. If he couldn’t steal the actual sign, he would take a picture and replicate it when he got home. Over the years, customers have sent him pictures of signs for him to hang as well. You can go there twenty times in a year and always find something new to read. Oh, and they happen to have the best apple pie in three counties.
The tiny place is packed, but as I walk in I spy a free table in the corner under a sign that says: UNATTENDED CHILDREN WILL BE GIVEN ESPRESSO AND A FREE PUPPY.
I commandeer the corner and wave to Stephanie, the waitress on duty.
I don’t know how long she has been working here, but she reminds me of the character Flo from the old sitcom Alice. Flo was a tall thin drink of water with a head of relentlessly bright red hair done up in a bouffant. She had a sassy southern accent and was always telling her boss to “kiss my grits” as she smacked her gum. Steph doesn’t have a southern accent, but the rest rings pretty true.
“Be with you in a jif, hon!” she yells to me across the diner. Not one person lifts their head in surprise. Everybody knows Steph.
I take out my phone and check my messages. An IM from Nina saying she is “five away,” a picture from Ron showing Max doing the flexed arm hang at the store, and a text from Don asking if he can join me. I realize that he thinks I’m still at Grab a Java. I IM Nina Here, send Ron a kiss and a hug, and text Don Sorry, no. I was just giving you a coffee update, to which I get an immediate sad-face reply. When I check my email, wouldn’t you know there’s one from Kim Fancy.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: KFancy
Subject: Was that you?
Date: February 9
Hi, Jen,
Was that you driving through KCK this morning? You should have stopped. Peggy and I were just meeting for a cup of coffee at that weird little place beside the grocery store. We were discussing the spring carnival.
See you soon.
Kim
* * *
I stare at my phone. Holy shit! I can’t believe it. She slapped Miss Ward? What the hell?
Nina makes her entrance at this opportune moment. I wave enthusiastically at her. I’m practically jumping out of my chair.
“Hey, girl—” Nina starts.
“Shut up and sit down! You are not going to believe the gossip I have for you!”
“What?” Nina looks momentarily confused.
“Okay, so I’m over in KCK getting my mom some things at the organic grocery store she loves.”
“The one by Grab a Java?” Nina asks unnecessarily.
“Yes.”
“Did you stop in for a breve?”
“Neens, stop interrupting.”
“Sorry,” she grumbles. “I need coffee.”
“Anyway as I’m going into Grab a—”
“What’s up, girls?” Steph’s voice makes me jump. “Apple pie’s almost gone, if that’s what you came in for.”
“I’ll have coffee and scrambled egg whites and wheat toast, no butter,” Nina orders.
Steph nods and looks at me.
“I’ll take the pie.”
She nods again. As she is walking away, she points to the wall.
“Did ya see the new one?”
We both look at where she’s pointing. It’s a large piece of plywood with orange letters: PLEASE DON’T THROW CIGARETTE BUTTS ON THE FLOOR. THE COCKROACHES ARE GETTING CANCER.
Nina laughs. “Nice one, Steph!”
“Came in from Tucson,” she yells from behind the counter.
Nina looks back at me. “Okay, so you went shopping…”
I lean in.
“No. I went to the organic grocery store across the river to get my mom some prunes.”
“Uh huh. Prunes.” Nina seems distracted. I see Steph coming with her coffee, so I sit back and wait.
“Here you go, honey. Pie and toast will be up in a minute.” She looks at me. “Ice cream or Cool Whip?”
“Neither, thanks.”
I turn back to Nina. She is savoring her first sip with her eyes closed.
“Oh, my God, do I need this. You won’t believe what I did last night. I—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Me first. I have to tell you what I just saw.”
“Seriously? I called you,” Nina reminds me.