The ancient jukebox in the back corner of Jimmy’s Diner played an Aretha Franklin song, the rasp of old speakers and light scratch of the needle over the well-loved record adding extra smoke to the Queen of Soul’s fire. Raleigh tapped his foot against the metal leg of the chair in time with the beat.
The diner was the epitome of retro style—mostly because nothing inside had changed since the 1950’s. The place had once been glossy, cherry-red vinyl upholstery, chrome accents, black and white checkerboard floors, and everything rock and roll. Time had dulled the surfaces and the retro atmosphere bordered on antique, but Raleigh liked it.
“Gotta admit, I feel kinda out of place in here,” Dawson said, peering over the top of the condiment and coffee stained lunch menu.
“They got good French
