"Just keep your cool. Remember, whatever these guys are like, they're our bread and butter," Max said, winking slyly at her as he backed away into the kitchen.
Linda straightened the counter set-ups as five truckers barged into the brightly-lit diner, laughing and talking loudly.
"Hey, baby, some of that slop you call coffee," the first trucker bellowed as they sauntered toward the booth closest to the door.
"Coming up," Linda said mechanically as she reached over and picked up the pot off the warmer.
"And give us a llttle more friendly service than you gave Chris," a tall, husky blond driver said as Linda walked around the counter.
Linda flushed red as she poured out five cups of coffee at the booth. She felt their eyes stapled on her boobs. It was the same look she'd seen in so many truckers. But after that wonderful fucking she'd received from Max just a few minutes ago, those looks seemed filthier than before.
"Just treat me right boys, and I'll treat you right," she flashed out as she turned and headed back toward the counter.
"Ohhh!" they all cat called, joking and laughing as Linda put the coffee back on the warmer and started to fill salt shakers on the counter. Gradually, the men seemed to forget her and started talking quietly among themselves. Linda wasn't particularly interested in their conversation. Still, it was unusual for them to be so quiet. Most of the times they cut up in the diner as if it were a cheap whorehouse. But tonight they were acting somewhat secretive, she thought.
"Anything to eat, boys?" Linda called out from behind the counter.
"Yeah, burgers for everybody. Plenty of onions on all of 'em," the big blond driver shouted impatiently, obviously angered by that sudden interruption.
Linda shrugged her shoulders, then wrote down the order on her pad and pushed it over the order window ledge.
"They're acting weirder than usual tonight," Linda commented to Max as he took the order slip from her.
"How so?" he asked, peering over the ledge at the tiny group of truckers in the corner.
"I don't know. Can't pin it down. But I'll bet there's something up," Linda said, her curiosity aroused to a fever pitch. God only knows, there wasn't much interesting happening in Gilroy at any time of day. So when something a little off-center occurred, Linda's attention was completely captured.
"Well, keep out of it, whatever it is. These guys aren't the best people to fool around with," Max warned, flashing a final look at the men before he closed the panel of the window and started working up the order.
Linda went back to her busy work, straining to pick up the hushed conversation. Gradually, she realized that the big blond driver was the leader of that group. He was obviously in charge of the conversation, and seemed to be telling the rest of them something.
"Chris wants it that way," he heard him say once. Then they sensed that they'd been talking too loudly. All of them looked up at Linda. Fortunately, she'd been quick enough to sense that something like this was going to happen. She kept her head down and busily wiped the counter top, occasionally filling those chipped, old salt shakers and pretending not to notice the men, but trying to catch every mumble they uttered.
Satisfied that Linda didn't know or care what was going on, they went back to their conversation.
They'll never open up with me here, Linda thought. With some commotion, the blonde turned around and walked through the swinging door into the kitchen. As it closed, Linda turned around and peered through the tiny rectangular window carved at the top of the door. The drivers had noticed that she left and were visibly relieved at her absence.
"What are you doing in here?" Max asked, turning from the sizzling grill.
"Never mind," Linda said, putting her forefinger up to her lips and crouching down on the floor.
"Wha…" Max started to ask as Linda slowly opened the door and crawled back out behind the counter. She kept her head and back down, edging toward the end of the counter closest to the occupied booth. They were all talking louder now, satisfied that no one could overhear them.
"So what about the load tonight, Jack," the tall blond driver asked a short, pot-bellied black-haired man.
"I've got the stuff hidden in the center of the load," he said softly, looking around the empty diner nervously. "Listen, Bill, I don't like this whole idea. Chris can get the whole bunch of us in trouble with this kind of game."
"You want to live like you been livin', driving that fuckin' truck night and day while your family wonders what the fuck you're doin'?" Bill said angrily.
"No. But this…"
"Look, you're in or out. That's it. You've got to make up your mind," Bill hissed between his teeth.
"You think I don't know that you'd figure out some way to get rid of me if I backed out?" Jack said, nervously fingering the edges of the white coffee cup as he lowered his eyes and stared at the tabletop.
"Hey, man," Bill said, looking at the three other driven who obviously shared Jack's concern. He reached over and gently squeezed the other driver's shoulder. "Don't talk like that. There's no problem. You want out, you get out."
Jack let out a low chuckle and shook his head slowly back and forth.
"I'm in too deep now. If I'd known you were smuggling heroin into the country, I don't think I'd ever gotten into this thing. But I'm in now, and don't plan on gettin' out," the driver said resignedly.
Heroin! Linda thought, raising her hand up to her throat. She'd stumbled onto something more serious than she'd thought possible.
"How about the rest of you?" Bill said, looking around at the other drivers. They all grunted in agreement. Then, smiling at Jack, Bill let go of his shoulder and leaned back against the counter seat. "Okay. Now that that's settled, we've got to figure out a way to get this stuff past the checkpoints. Any ideas?"
As the five men tossed suggestions back and forth on how they could slip their loads of drugs past the checkpoint, Linda racked her brains. What should she do? Getting back to the kitchen was the first step.
Linda sucked in a deep breath. As she turned to crawl back into the kitchen, her hand accidentally bumped against a catsup bottle on the edge of a shelf under the counter. It crashed to the floor, sounding like a bomb going off in the otherwise quiet room.
"What was that?" Bill cried out, signaling for the others to be quiet.
"Somebody's back there!" Jack cried out nervously.
"Get out of my way," Bill hissed as he crawled over the truckers and sprinted across the empty diner. Linda cringed as she looked up and saw the husky driver peering down at her.
"I didn't hear anything. Honest," she wailed unconvincingly.
"Sure you didn't," Bill said. "We've got to take care of her and the cook," the driver said as he turned around to the now-standing group.
"Hey, I didn't bargain for this," Jack protested. "None of us did. But we knew what we were gettin' into. She's heard too much," Bill said, reaching down and grabbing Linda tightly by both arms.
"Let me go!" she shrieked, twisting helplessly in Bill's tight grip. Jack froze. But the other drivers shot into action. As Bill dragged Linda down the far end of the counter, the three truckers leaped over the top and confronted Max just as he ran out of the kitchen. He'd heard her screams and came out to see what was happening.
"Hey, what do you think you're doin'?" he asked as he saw Bill holding Linda tightly against him. The big blond trucker's fingers wrapped tightly around her slender wrists, pinning her arms behind her back as Linda struggled to break free.
"Too late for explanations, pal," Bill said as the three big truckers pushed Max hard against the back wall. Linda watched in horrified helplessness as the men started working Max over brutally. The thudding, soft sounds of their fists crunching into the dazed man's chest and belly resounded through the diner sickeningly. It took some time. But soon Max roused himself and started to fight back. He grabbed one of the truckers by the shoulders and pitched him over the countertop. The yelling man crashed down hard onto a table, sending the surrounding chairs scattering noisily as the table collapsed under the trucker's weight.