**Hi everyone,**
The good news is that I’m going to publish another book in the *Gary Booker Novels* series
title: ***Take Her Home***.
I’ve chosen to share an excerpt from the book with you.
**The Diner**
As he walked in to get something to eat, he felt instantly transported back in time sixty years. Glancing around, he paused to take in the scene. It was a cultivated habit to observe who was there, where they sat, how many exits there were, and to evaluate the sight lines before deciding where he wanted to sit. It wasn’t as if he expected the café to be the scene of a battle that evening, it was more as if he expected every scene, on every evening, to involve one. Being so cautious had saved his life more than once, and that kind of reinforcement tended to form habits rapidly.
The two teenagers in the far corner were leaning over what looked to be burgers, they were probably on a date. The older gent sitting at the near end of the counter was a regular, a rancher by the looks of his boots and hat. He was probably there to grab something to eat and visit with the waitress. The only other occupants were a young woman and what appeared to be her five-or-six-year-old daughter. The waitress was taking their order and although from the front door Jordan couldn’t see the young woman’s face, her hair was un-styled, and the little girl looked tired. Those two were on the road and there was some aspect to them that spoke to him of stress and hardship.
All of that took mere moments, then he walked past the woman and her child to take a seat at the far end of the counter. From there he would have a clear view of his surroundings, in line of sight with the front door, and be closest to the back exit. As he passed behind the waitress, he briefly overheard the discussion they were having but didn’t want to eavesdrop. As he sat down, however, he peered over at the woman and saw the bruise on her cheek. The image caused a visceral clenching in his stomach and a tightness in his face.
Moments later the waitress returned behind the counter, impaled the order on a spindle for the cook to prepare, and brought him a menu. Her face was pinched, and she was muttering under her breath. He smiled at the woman and keeping his voice low so it would not carry, he asked, “Not locals I take it?”
She shook her head. “Never saw them before, but she’s having a hard time. A trucker dropped her off a few minutes ago and pulled out straight away. I can tell they’re hungry, but she only ordered French fries and a coke. That’s a nasty mark on her face too.”
He nodded, considering the situation before saying, “Give them a couple of burgers with the works, and some pieces of that apple pie. Put it on my bill.” He nodded at the deli case as he talked. “I’ll take a double bacon cheese burger and a salad if you have it. Iced tea, with lemon.”
She smiled softly. “That’s nice of you, thanks.”
He shrugged. “Could have been my mom and I when I was a kid. She used to get bruises like that too.”
She nodded in understanding, it obviously was something that stuck with him. “Well, it’s nice anyway.”
As she continued her duties and their orders were being prepared, he casually looked around at the insides of the diner. The decor was classic 1960s, and the only thing that had changed over the previous fifty years was the age of the waitress. He imagined that she’d started working there as a teenager and never left town. Watching her chatting with the rancher, it was obvious something was between them. He wondered if a generation ago they were the young couple sitting in the booth sharing one coke with two straws.
Soon, his burger was pushed onto the counter in front of him along with a huge basket of French fries and a squeeze bottle of catsup. Right afterwards, two more were placed before the woman and her daughter. He smiled at the look of confusion on her face and then the embarrassed but grateful smile as it was explained that someone else had paid for them. It wasn’t hard for her to figure out who that person was, and the little girl smiled and waved to him. With that simple wave, his heart pinched with longing to have someone like that in his life, a child who appreciated the small things he could do for her. He sighed and turned away; no sense torturing himself over it, he wasn’t in one place long enough to be a father or a husband, so why punish himself with longing.
As he sat at the counter eating, Jordan mulled over the past few months of his life and how things had changed, mostly for the better, he thought. Without being too obvious, he again looked over at the young mom and daughter as they interacted with the waitress. The girl was cute, and had her hair fell to below her shoulders. She had dark dancing eyes, and wore a cartoon character logo sweatshirt and jeans. Her coat was leaning upright in the corner of her bench, and she kneeled on the seat as she stuffed a catsup smothered French fry into her mouth.
Her mom had on a hoodie and what looked like some kind of black leggings. She was good looking, but it was hard for Jordan to tell how good, given how she was dressed. She didn’t seem short, and had long dark hair, black actually. Her features spoke of a Latino heritage or perhaps native American. Her eyes were equally dark, and she looked tired, the kind of tiredness that betrayed the stress she had been under as opposed to the time of the evening it was. He couldn’t tell, of course, as she was sitting and her clothes were loose, but something about the way she moved told him that she was curvy in the places a man likes a woman to have curves. From where he sat, he could see the bruise more clearly. It appeared to be a shadow under her left eye, and the evidence of her abuse raised Jordan’s blood pressure above the red line. She tried to cover it with her hair, but as she talked he could see it. Most interesting, and he had a hard time pulling his eyes away, was that as she spoke she seemed to have a very slight overbite and it gave her mouth and lips an attractive quality that drew him; he wanted to just sit and watch her talk so he could absorb the experience of it. Not wanting to be that obnoxious, however, he refocused on his burger.
After getting the two traveling girls settled, the waitress came back and checked out the rancher, who had obviously finished his visit and was ready to leave. Then she made her way back down to where Jordan was eating, wiping the counter as she came. He wondered how many thousands of times she’d wiped that same piece of laminate over the decades. Her name tag said ‘Rose’, which totally fit the small-town atmosphere; again he smiled to himself at the perfect imagery of the place.
“Nice burger, Rose. Thanks.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Larry does a pretty good job. Not sure what I’m going to do when he goes back to college next quarter.” She looked her customer up and down, surveying him carefully. “Military?”
He smiled. The haircut usually gave it away if the swagger and impression of hardness didn’t.
“Was. Ranger recon. Always thought I would make a career of it, but after my last deployment to the Middle East.” He shook his head solemnly. “Three tours was enough although I did go back a couple of times as a contractor.”
Assuming he’d recently mustered out, she asked the obvious, “So what now?”
He smirked. “Maybe I’ll stick around town. Sounds like you’ll need a cook soon and the girls are pretty.”
He was flirting. They both knew Rose was old enough to be his mother, if not grandmother. She laughed. “Nah, you’re not the small town, burger flipping type. Besides, I’m the prettiest girl in town and Lloyd there keeps a pretty close eye on me.”
He chuckled, knowing she was referring to her rancher friend. “Smart guy. No, after I came back the last time, a private security firm offered me a contract. I’m just coming off a month of training. Decided to take a little time and go see my momma in Kansas for a bit, then I have to be in Tennessee for work in a couple of weeks. Decided to drive and see the country a little.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Mercenary?”
“More like rescues and hostage work.” He looked at her. “Girls being trafficked, somebody has to help.”
Her eyes flickered, and she nodded her head slowly. “Tough guy, eh?”
“Some say.” He took the last bite of his burger and wiped up the catsup with the remaining fry. She took his plate and left it in the scullery before heading over to do the same for the other two late-night diners. As Rose returned to deposit the plates to be washed, three men came in the front door and the young mom sitting in the booth gasped. It was more of a squeal of fright, and it drew Jordan’s attention to the men. One was obviously the leader; he was large and thick, and had a menacing aura to his bearing; the other two were his side kicks. They had a hard-working look to them and given the part of the country he was in, probably country ranchers, or farmers. The leader was big, but not Scott Boardman big. They looked tough, but not John Byrne tough, not Sam Boardman tough, and Jordan had spent the last month training with those three guys.
This is from the soon to be published book, "Take Her Home" by V S Campbell.
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