EPISODE 10 — Tuesday
Six months later. Tuesday.
The bell over the diner door rang, and Sergeant Cole walked in — slow, steady, one hand on the head of the Belgian Malinois at his side. Rex. Twelve and a half now. Grayer. Slower. Still the finest creature in three counties.
The corner booth was already occupied.
Tank sat there waiting, two coffees poured, a plate of bacon on the table — and beside him, on the bench, a scruffy shepherd mix with one floppy ear and the happiest face in the world.
“Who’s this?” Cole asked, sliding in.
“Rescue,” Tank said, scratching the dog’s ears. “Name’s Buddy.”
Cole went very still.
Tank nodded, eyes bright. “Yeah. That Buddy. Figured it was time.” He looked down at the dog, who was currently trying to climb into his lap. “He’s dumb as a rock and perfect. Just like the first one.”
Rex sniffed the newcomer. The newcomer sniffed back. An understanding was reached.
Denise set down Cole’s coffee. “The usual, hon?”
“Rex gets the bacon,” Cole said.
“Buddy gets the sausage,” Tank said at the same time.
They looked at each other and laughed — and the whole diner laughed with them, because everybody knew the story now, everybody knew the booth, everybody knew that Tuesday at Harlan’s was the best show in town.
Outside, Tank’s Harley gleamed in the sun. Inside, a biker and a veteran split pie, and two dogs — one gray and noble, one young and ridiculous — napped head-to-head under the table.
The bell over the door rang. Someone new walked in.
And there was always room in the corner booth.
THE END ❤
