that Doug even looked over his shoulder a couple more times, expecting to see something interesting. Finally, he asked, "Jon, what are you staring at?"
"Staring? Nothing. Nothing. I'm not staring." Jon's response was quick and breathy, trembling with guilt, and Jon was about to pursue the question when a timid female voice spoke over the P.A. system:
"Your attention, please? Your attention? We're sorry for the interruption, but... if there are any doctors or nurses dining in the restaurant, could you please come to the register? We have two injured men who are in need of attention. If any medical personnel dining in the restaurant could please come to the register, we'd really appreciate it."
Adelle sighed and put down her fork, glancing at Doug.
"C'mon, honey, you're tired," Doug said. "Let someone else—"
"That could've been us, you know," she said quietly. "We got off lucky tonight." She looked around to see if anyone else was getting up. A short, well dressed middle aged man was leaving his table and heading for the front, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Patting Cece's knee, she said, "Let me out, hon. I'll be back in a while."
"Want me to come?" Doug asked.
She smiled tiredly and shook her head. "I doubt they'll need X-rays."
As Doug slid back into the booth, he said, "It's probably nothing serious. Probably just a—" He stopped and stared across the table.
Jon's cheeseburger lay scattered on his plate where he'd dropped it; a piece of lettuce hung from his lips and his face had lost all color as he stared open-mouthed after his mother.
"Jon, what's the matter?"
"What...what do you think...happened?"
"Oh, it's probably nothing. Remember that guy we saw when we came in? The guy who was bleeding? Probably him. Probably a couple guys knocked each other around, is all."
Adelle returned to the table and leaned over Doug. "I need my coat," she said. "One of the guys is outside."
As she walked away, Jon wiped his mouth quickly on his napkin and stood.
"What’re you doing?" Doug asked.
"Going with her."
"No, you shouldn't—"
But he was gone.
"He is so gross," Dara sneered. "He gets off on seeing people bleed ."
"Well, girls," Doug said, "I guess if s just us." He started twirling his fork in his spaghetti, but his fingers slowed down a bit and he cocked his head to one side when he heard urgent, hissing whispers from the booth behind him.
"—whatta you think? What would happen then , huh?"
"It coulda been anything ! A heart attack, a-a-a, I don't know, a kid with a bloody nose !"
"I don't care what it coulda been. Get off your ass and check it out."
A utensil clattered angrily against a plate. "How come I gotta do all this shit ? I'm haulin' the fuckin' queen !"
"Whatsat give you, seniority? You think that's some kinda privilege ? You're haulin' that fuckin' thing because I don't wanna get near it. Now get out there, Goddammit!" Keys jangled noisily. "An' here. Take these and get my cigars outta my truck."
Doug felt the back of his seat shift as the man sitting directly behind him got up.
There was something odd about those two men, something beneath their soiled, lumpy exteriors that was equally repulsive. Doug jerked his head from side to side once, as if shooing a fly, and continued eating his spaghetti.
As he followed the small group through the shop at a distance, Jon heard the short man introduce himself as Dr. Phillip Kane. Jon's mother walked beside the doctor hurriedly, led by the woman from the travel store and one of the mechanics. They went down a narrow corridor at the back of the shop and through a doorway. Jon slowed his pace and approached the door cautiously, not wanting to be seen.
All four of them joined a police officer and the janitor from the restaurant and hunched over a man on a sofa. There was a great deal of blood on the man's bare legs.
"Good God!" the doctor snapped. "This man's lost a lot of blood!"
"Yeah, that's
"Staring? Nothing. Nothing. I'm not staring." Jon's response was quick and breathy, trembling with guilt, and Jon was about to pursue the question when a timid female voice spoke over the P.A. system:
"Your attention, please? Your attention? We're sorry for the interruption, but... if there are any doctors or nurses dining in the restaurant, could you please come to the register? We have two injured men who are in need of attention. If any medical personnel dining in the restaurant could please come to the register, we'd really appreciate it."
Adelle sighed and put down her fork, glancing at Doug.
"C'mon, honey, you're tired," Doug said. "Let someone else—"
"That could've been us, you know," she said quietly. "We got off lucky tonight." She looked around to see if anyone else was getting up. A short, well dressed middle aged man was leaving his table and heading for the front, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Patting Cece's knee, she said, "Let me out, hon. I'll be back in a while."
"Want me to come?" Doug asked.
She smiled tiredly and shook her head. "I doubt they'll need X-rays."
As Doug slid back into the booth, he said, "It's probably nothing serious. Probably just a—" He stopped and stared across the table.
Jon's cheeseburger lay scattered on his plate where he'd dropped it; a piece of lettuce hung from his lips and his face had lost all color as he stared open-mouthed after his mother.
"Jon, what's the matter?"
"What...what do you think...happened?"
"Oh, it's probably nothing. Remember that guy we saw when we came in? The guy who was bleeding? Probably him. Probably a couple guys knocked each other around, is all."
Adelle returned to the table and leaned over Doug. "I need my coat," she said. "One of the guys is outside."
As she walked away, Jon wiped his mouth quickly on his napkin and stood.
"What’re you doing?" Doug asked.
"Going with her."
"No, you shouldn't—"
But he was gone.
"He is so gross," Dara sneered. "He gets off on seeing people bleed ."
"Well, girls," Doug said, "I guess if s just us." He started twirling his fork in his spaghetti, but his fingers slowed down a bit and he cocked his head to one side when he heard urgent, hissing whispers from the booth behind him.
"—whatta you think? What would happen then , huh?"
"It coulda been anything ! A heart attack, a-a-a, I don't know, a kid with a bloody nose !"
"I don't care what it coulda been. Get off your ass and check it out."
A utensil clattered angrily against a plate. "How come I gotta do all this shit ? I'm haulin' the fuckin' queen !"
"Whatsat give you, seniority? You think that's some kinda privilege ? You're haulin' that fuckin' thing because I don't wanna get near it. Now get out there, Goddammit!" Keys jangled noisily. "An' here. Take these and get my cigars outta my truck."
Doug felt the back of his seat shift as the man sitting directly behind him got up.
There was something odd about those two men, something beneath their soiled, lumpy exteriors that was equally repulsive. Doug jerked his head from side to side once, as if shooing a fly, and continued eating his spaghetti.
As he followed the small group through the shop at a distance, Jon heard the short man introduce himself as Dr. Phillip Kane. Jon's mother walked beside the doctor hurriedly, led by the woman from the travel store and one of the mechanics. They went down a narrow corridor at the back of the shop and through a doorway. Jon slowed his pace and approached the door cautiously, not wanting to be seen.
All four of them joined a police officer and the janitor from the restaurant and hunched over a man on a sofa. There was a great deal of blood on the man's bare legs.
"Good God!" the doctor snapped. "This man's lost a lot of blood!"
"Yeah, that's
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