Alpha 1 (3 page)

V

L
UCY TOOK A SEAT AT
the counter. Christopher wasn’t there yet. He’d start his shift just before lunch. That was when Lucy usually started too. The mornings were pretty quiet. Christopher’s cousin was on the grill in the back. A woman called Cynthia, about fifteen years older than Lucy, was serving.

“You’re here early,” Cynthia said when she saw Lucy at the counter.

“I’m just here to get away from my family,” Lucy said.

Cynthia nodded. Lucy felt bad speaking about her family like that, she knew Cynthia would get the impression they were difficult to get along with, which they weren’t. They were great. But it saddened Lucy to see them the way they were right now.

“I’ll just have a coffee.”

“You look like you could use some breakfast,” Cynthia said.

Lucy smiled. “Go on then. Why not?”

“What do you want?”

“How about a muffin?”

“Don’t have a muffin. Have a decent meal. You’ll feel better.”

Lucy wondered how ragged she looked if Cynthia was trying to get her to have a good meal. “Do I look that bad?”

“You look pretty as a picture. I can just tell when a girl needs a decent meal.”

Lucy nodded. “How about an omelette?”

“Ham?”

“Sure.”

“Cheese?”

Lucy nodded. “Swiss, please.”

Cynthia seemed to approve of the order. She put it through and then brought Lucy some coffee. Lucy drank the coffee and watched the activity in the diner. It was a nice place, Lucy liked working there. It was the kind of place that anyone could come in and sit for a few hours if they needed to. No one was ever turned away, even if they just sat and drank water or nursed a single cup of coffee all day.

Lucy’s omelette arrived with a side of toast. Lucy began eating right away. She picked up the ketchup bottle and poured a big dollop on her plate. After she’d eaten the omelette she spread peanut butter on her toast and ate that too, washing it down with the coffee.

“I knew you needed a meal,” Cynthia said when she took away the plate.

Lucy nodded.

She looked at her watch. She still had some time before her shift started. She wondered what she’d do to kill time. She was going to go grab one of the newspapers in the rack by the door when she saw Holden come in. The bandage from his hand was gone but now he had the most awful black eye Lucy had ever seen. He looked like he’d been in a boxing match with Mike Tyson.

“What the hell happened to you?” Lucy said when he approached the counter.

He took a seat close to her. “You should see the
other
guy.”

“I’m looking at
you
. You look like you’ve just gone through ten rounds.”

“I was out last night.”

“Out where?”

“Ruben’s?”

“I know it.”

“That’s where I was.”

“Tell me you didn’t start a fight.”

Holden shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I know this much,” Lucy said. “Fights don’t start themselves.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Holden said.

Cynthia came over and asked Holden what he wanted.

“Two coffees to go,” he said. “Both black.”

She went to make the coffee. Holden waited at the counter, looking sheepish.

“Let me see your hand,” Lucy said.

Holden held out his hand for her to examine. It seemed to be healing nicely despite the fight he’d been in. “At least that’s taken care of,” she said.

“Thanks to you,” Holden said.

While Cynthia was making the coffees, Jimmy came in through the door. “Holden,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting our coffee.”

“I was going to get it this morning.”

“Were you?”

Jimmy shook his head. He nodded to Lucy. “Good morning, Lucy.”

“Good morning, Jimmy.”

Jimmy sat at the counter next to Holden. Lucy noticed that he had a bruise on the side of his face too. She shook her head. She really liked Holden and Jimmy but she had the impression that all they did was fix engines, drink coffee, and get in bar fights after work. Even though they were almost ten years older than her, they seemed like a couple of kids. They seemed to live as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And she was so stressed about her family. It didn’t seem fair. They were lucky they didn’t have any responsibilities in life. She thought of her father. Maybe it was the same for all men who were mechanics and engineers. They were all really nice guys, they were good to the people around them, but they were doomed to never succeed financially in the world.

“So what are you boys working on today?” she said.

“Same as yesterday,” Jimmy said.

“Still working on the J10,” Holden said.

Lucy nodded. She wondered how much money they could make working on the same pickup truck day after day. She was being unfair. She knew what she was doing. She was transferring her own problems and worries onto them. Why should they be worried about making money just because she was going through a rough time at home? They were nice guys and they were doing what they loved. She had to stop judging them based on her own family’s misfortune.

“What about you, Lucy?” Holden said. “You don’t usually show up here so early in the morning.”

“I just had to get away from my house for a bit.”

Holden looked at her and Lucy felt as if he was reading her like a book. The way he smiled at her seemed to say that he understood everything she was going through. She had to look away.

She got up and went to the washroom. She locked the door behind her and stood in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink. She ran the cold water but didn’t touch it. She just watched it flow down the sink. As the water poured she felt the tears come down her cheeks and fall into the sink with the cold water.

She was so worried about her family. Her father was going to get ill from all the stress he was going through. Her mother wouldn’t be able to handle that. And how was Shirley going to raise that baby and give it a good life without any financial support? It took her ten minutes to get her tears under control and get a grip of herself. When she got back out to the restaurant, Holden and Jimmy were gone.

She hoped she hadn’t seemed rude.

VI

J
EFFERSON LUND WASN’T THE KIND
of man who ate in diners very often. In fact, he didn’t eat out much at all anywhere. He had a personal chef who prepared all his meals at home and traveled with him on trips. Jefferson had gone through four chefs until he’d settled on the one he had and he was quite pleased with him. Everything he prepared was perfectly controlled, from the number of calories in the portion to the farm that had produced the ingredients. Jefferson was a man of precision. He liked things to be just right. His body was the most important asset he owned, and he owned billions of dollars worth of assets. He wouldn’t have eaten a meal at Angel’s Diner if they paid him. Even being in there, the grease in the air, the smell of the cheap food sizzling on the grill, it upset him.

He was there through no choice of his own. A city garbage truck had just rear-ended his town car and his driver was outside, frantically trying to get a replacement limo sent out. Jefferson found a booth and sat at it. He felt irritable. He took out his phone and called his assistant. She was located just a few blocks away on the fiftieth floor of the Lund Associates building on Liberty Street.

“Caroline, I’m going to be late. Can you tell the board?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He hung up and immediately started dialing the number for his lawyer, Jane Finch.

“I’ll be fifteen minutes,” he said. “Just stall them. Distribute the prospectus and tell them to look over the figures. I’d be surprised if any of them could fucking read the thing without me there to hold their hands.”

“I’ll handle them, Jefferson,” Jane said.

“Just don’t let anyone leave that boardroom,” he said. “I’ll be right there. Get catering to come in and serve breakfast pastries or something.”

He hung up and looked out through the front window of the diner. His driver was still outside swapping insurance information with the city driver. Steam was coming out of the front of the dump truck. Jefferson looked at his watch.

Lucy approached him. “Can I get you something?”

He looked up at the waitress. “Coffee,” he said.

“And a menu?”

“Just the coffee.”

Lucy nodded and went to get his coffee. She’d seen everything that had happened. The dump truck had just come around the corner and slammed right into the back of the town car like a bowling ball. She’d screamed when she saw the crash. The back windshield of the town car had shattered instantly.

She brought the man’s coffee over to him. He was watching her intently as she walked over to him. She felt self-conscious in his gaze. She could tell he was a rich, important man. He was about thirty-five, impeccably dressed, and even with his suit on she could tell his body was chiseled as precisely as a Greek statue. His eyes were piercing, they seemed to see right through everything.

“Your coffee, sir,” she said.

She didn’t usually call her customers sir but for some reason this time she did without even thinking.

“Thank you,” he said.

The way he was looking at her, so intently, with so much focus, she didn’t know what to say. It almost put her off balance. “Are you alright?” she said, indicating the crash outside.

“Oh, fine,” he said. “It takes more than a dump truck to rattle me.”

“I’m sure it does,” Lucy said. She instantly regretted saying that. She sounded so stupid. Something about this guy just put her at a loss for words.

She was still standing there in front of him like an idiot and she turned to leave but he spoke again.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“My name?”

“Yes, your name.”

“Lucy,” she said. It was written on her uniform.

“Lucy,” the man repeated.

She smiled at him again, even more awkwardly than before, and then hurried away to serve another customer.

Jefferson watched her go about her work. This was literally the last place on earth he’d have expected to run into a girl like this but he had to admit he was quite taken by her. The way she moved, she had perfect posture. He’d spent more than his fair share of time with girls from the New York City Ballet and he’d have sworn she was a member. She’d have fit right in with those girls. She had a natural elegance that usually required years of training to achieve.

And her face, she had the prettiest face he’d ever seen. A couple of hours of shopping on Fifth Avenue, some really quality hair and makeup, and she’d be as presentable as any of the girls he ever showed up to his gala events with.

Sitting there, staring at her, he decided that this Lucy girl was something he wanted. He had a hectic schedule of social events to attend and he never had time to meet enough women to bring. He used an exclusive agency to arrange his dates. Lucy looked perfect. He was used to getting what he wanted, he never failed to get something when he made up his mind about it, and as he watched her he started to think about her as if she was something he already owned.

The driver came in from outside. Jefferson hadn’t touched his coffee. He’d never intended to. The only coffee he drank came from beans he imported personally from his own farm in Rwanda. He had them roasted right there in New York so that they were as fresh as possible.

“Your replacement car’s here, sir,” the driver said.

Jefferson nodded. He pulled his briefcase up onto the table and snapped it open. He took out a white envelope and a page of Lund Associates letterhead. On the paper he wrote his name, Jefferson Lund, and a phone number. Then he took his checkbook from his breast pocket and made out a check for a thousand dollars. He folded it and the paper and put them in the envelope. He wrote “Lucy” on the envelope.

When Lucy came over he simply handed her the envelope. “This is for you,” he said and before she even realized what he was doing he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Lucy was so surprised she didn’t even react. She was stunned. She just took the envelope from him in her hand and stood there and watched him leave.

VII

“J
UST GET THAT WRENCH TO ME,”
Holden said from under the J10 pickup truck.

Jimmy stepped over Holden’s legs and passed him the wrench.

“Now give her again.”

Jimmy went back into the cab and turned on the truck’s engine. He had to shout over the noise of the motor to be heard. “How’s that?” he said.

“More gas,” Holden called.

Jimmy put his foot down hard. “Now?”

He could hear Holden coughing beneath the truck from all the fumes.

“More,” Holden called between coughs.

Jimmy put the gas all the way down and then let his foot off. He killed the engine and hopped out of the cab. “Well?” he said.

Holden crawled out from under the truck. He was smiling. “I think we’re good,” he said.

“Really?”

Holden nodded. Jimmy laughed. He could tell Holden was pleased. That truck had belonged to his father before he died. It meant a lot to Holden to get it back on the road. It was a great truck, perfect body, no rust. And now that the transmission was working he’d be able to drive it.

Holden was over by the sink washing his hands. Jimmy knew he’d want to take it for a spin.

“I’d say we’re just in time for lunch,” Jimmy said.

“My treat,” Holden said.

Jimmy got into the truck next to Holden and they turned the ignition. The engine sounded beautiful. It was a 360, V8, six liters of good old-fashioned American horsepower. The way the engine hummed reminded both of them of their childhoods.

“They don’t make them like this anymore,” Jimmy said.

“That they don’t,” Holden said.

Jimmy turned on the radio. It was the original factory radio and didn’t have anything fancy about it. He tuned in a local rock station and turned up the volume.

The truck rolled out of the garage and onto Front Street. It was running perfectly. As soon as they got off Front Street they noticed pedestrians admiring the old truck.