Free Code Of Silence by J.L. Drake

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Thirty-Five Years Ago
     
    Stacy
     
    From the moment I laid eyes on the six–foot-three, brown-haired man who walked into the diner that Sunday morning, I knew he wasn’t from around here. A man like that stuck out. His broad shoulders had the guy next to him shifting down a stool so they didn’t have to touch. I nodded at Jack, who was about to serve him, to let him know I had it. I removed the pen from my ear, pulled out my note pad, and strolled over.
    “Hi there, what can I get you?”
    He closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. “Just coffee.”
    “Coming right up.” I turned to pick up the coffee pot and checked out his reflection in the glass. He cursed quietly as he looked at his phone while I poured the dark brew and slid the mug over. “Here ya are.”
    “Thanks.” He yawned, and his head remained down. Friendly.
    I tapped my pointer finger on the counter. “My name is Stacy. If you need anything, just call.”
    “Yeah,” he grunted as he rubbed his head again. I reached under the counter and grabbed my purse, then took out my Tylenol and clicked the bottle down in front of him.
    My other customers waited, so I moved over to them and took their orders. After I got them situated and went back, he was gone. Under my pill bottle was a twenty.
    “Jack?” I called. He poked his head from behind the divider. “Did you see where that guy went? His bill was only a dollar, but…” I held up the twenty.
    “Nice! He left about five minutes ago. Looked like he was hung over or something.”
    The rest of my shift went quickly, and I never thought about the guy again until I left to walk the ten blocks to my tiny apartment, thinking of the twenty he had left me. Soon after that, I was passed out on the bed.
     

     
    Mondays were slow, like ‘jam a fork in your eye’ slow. There were only so many times a person could fill the salt shakers and restock the shelves. Jack’s radio pumped Cindy Lauper, and I sang along as I dried a glass.
    “Excuse me?” A voice broke into my song. I turned to find the man from yesterday in the same seat as before. I hopped off the counter and made my way over.
    “Coffee, right?”
    This time he stared right at me. My Lord, his eyes were a soft melty brown, like caramel with a light honey swirl. He gave me a tight smile. “Can I order pancakes along with it…please?”
    “Coming right up.” I handed Jack the slip, and he gave me a little wink.
    “Stacy, right?” he asked, then cleared his throat. I gave a little nod as I poured his coffee. “Charlie, nice to meet you.”
    “It is,” I stated. “Can I ask you something, Charlie?”
    “Sure.” He ripped a piece of paper and started to fold the edges down.
    I replaced the pot and looked right at him. “Where are you from?”
    “Phoenix.”
    “So what brought you to Nashville?”
    He continued to fold the paper even smaller. I watched in fascination for a few moments before he spoke. “Just felt like a drive.”
    Two guys came and sat at the other end of the counter. I recognized Will and sighed inwardly. “Stace!” Will called out as he took a seat. “French toast with extra whipped cream and lots of chocolate sprinkles. Thanks, doll.”
    Charlie looked up at me, then over to the guys. “Friends of yours?”
    “No.” I sighed as I scribbled Will’s order. “Let me get your food.”
    “Thank you.” He kept his eyes on the guys, who were loudly talking.
    I placed Charlie’s plate in front of him, then headed to give Will his.
    “Can I get you anything else?” I asked. As a reply, Will snagged my hand, pulled me forward, and dabbed my neck with whipped cream. “Will,” I sighed, “please don’t start today.”
    “Oh, come on.” He smiled. “I’m just playin’. You want me to clean it off for you?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
    “Stacy?” Charlie looked unimpressed. “Could I get another refill?”
    “Yeah,” I called out, but Will caught my