Sweet Tea & Cigarettes

The bell above the diner door sounded sick. Not a cheerful little chime. Not even a proper ring. Just a rusty metallic cough every time somebody walked through the entrance. Magnolia stood on a ladder beneath it with a screwdriver clenched between her teeth while the Alabama heat rolled through the open front door hard enough for her tank top to stick to her skin. Sweat slid down the back of her neck. Somewhere behind her, bacon grease popped loudly on the stove. ”You’re gonna electrocute yourself.” Aunt Darlene called from behind the counter. Mags pulled the screwdriver from her mouth “That feels dramatic.” ”You said that right before setting your Nashville apartment kitchen on fire” ”That was one time!” Mags said surprised that her Aunt remembered that incident. Darlene snorted “Twice actually” The old men crowded into the corner booth laughed into their coffee cups. Mags ignored them rolling her eyes and went back to tightening the loose screws above the doorway. The diner smelled exactly the same as it had when she was seventeen - grease, sweat tea, burnt coffee, lemon cleaner, and cigarette smoke permanently soaked into the walls no matter how many years had passed since smoking indoors became illegal. Nothing changed in Bellrose, Alabama. Not the peeling vinyl booths, not the ancient jukebox that only played half its song, not the regulars who gathered every morning to gossip about people they'd known their entire lives. Mags had spent four years trying to outrun this town and somehow it feels like she never even left. Outside, tires crunched over gravel across the highway. Without thinking, Mags glanced through the diner windows toward the auto shop sitting directly across the road. Her stomach dropped immediately. Beau Calloway leaned over the hood of an old pickup truck with grease staining his hands black. Old rock music drifted faintly from the open garage bay doors while the July heat lit the sweat across the back of his neck. God. Four years away, two failed relationships, one disaster of a life later and somehow still one look at Beau still knocked all the air out of her lungs. He looked different now. Broader through the shoulders, tattoos curling down both forearms beneath the sleeves of his faded black T-shirt. His dark curls were longer than she remembered, damp from sweat and curling against the back of his neck. But the biggest difference sat in his face. Beau looked tired. Not sleepy. Not lazy. Exhausted. Like life had been pressing down on him for years and he’d gotten too used to carrying the weight. As if sensing her staring, Beau glanced up. Their eyes met through the diner window. Everything inside Mags tightened. Neither of them moved. The last time she’d seen Beau had been two Christmases ago at the gas station on the outskirts of town. Fourteen awkward words beside the beer cooler before he grabbed a can of Bud Light and disappeared. Mags looked away first. Coward The bell above her head gave one final metallic clank before dropping off the wall straight to the old wooden floor. “s**t-” The ladder wobbled violently beneath her. Mags grabbed for balance too late. Before she could fall, a large hand caught the side of the ladder and held it steady. Her heart skipped a beat painfully. “Are you always this graceful?” Beau asked His voice had gotten deeper. Rougher. Mags looked down slowly. Big mistake Up close, Beau was worse. The smell of motor oil and soap clung to him. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt. A faded scar cut through one eyebrow she didn’t remember him having before and his eyes - still green enough to ruin her entire day. “I had it handled” She muttered “You almost busted your ass.” “Almost doesn’t count.” A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. That somehow hurt more than if he’d never smiled at all. Darlene appeared behind the counter carrying a coffee pot. “Well would you look at that” Mags groan quietly. “Haven’t seen you two in the same room without glaring since high school.” “We’re not glaring.” Mags said immediately. “You absolutely are.” Darlene replied Beau rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Morning, Miss Darlene” “Don’t ‘Miss Darlene’ me, boy. You haven’t stepped foot in this diner in six months” “I’m sorry I’ve been busy.” “Mhm.” Darlene pointed toward the broken bell laying on the floor. “Fix that thing and I’ll feed you” “That’s bribery.” “No sir, that’s Southern hospitality.” Beau took the screwdriver from Mags before she could argue. Their fingers brushed. Tiny contact. Barely there but still enough to send heat crawling up her arms. Mags hated herself for noticing. Beau picked the bell up off the floor and tightened a few screws on the bell then climbed the ladder easily, steadying himself against the wall while tightening the screws back in place. When they were younger, Beau fixed everything - broken bike chains, kitchen sinks, Mag’s wrist after she jumped off the barn trying to prove that she could. He’d a;ways been good with his hands. That thought arrived entirely uninvited. Mags cleared her throat hard enough to hurt. The bell gave a clean ding once Beau adjusted the wiring Show-off. “There.” He said, climbing back down. Mags crossed her arms “You’re annoying.” “You still talk too much.” Before she could answer, Darlene slid a plate piled high with bacon onto the counter. “And there’s the s****l tension I’ve been waiting for.” “Jesus Christ,” Mags muttered. One of the old men in the corner cackled loudly. Beau looked like he wanted to walk directly into traffic. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the diner floor interrupted first. A sharp c***k echoed beneath the room. Everybody froze. The sound came again but longer this time. Wood groaned somewhere beneath booth six. One of the regulars slowly stood, “That ain’t normal.” The floor dipped slightly beneath the booth leg. Coffee sloshed across the table. “Oh hell” Darlene whispered. The wood then gave out completely. The booth dropped halfway into the floor with a violent crash. Splinters exploded into the air. Dust filled the diner while dishes somewhere behind the counter. People shouted and stumbled backward. Mags instinctively grabbed Beau’s arm. He moved in front of her automatically. “Everybody back up.” Beau barked. The entire diner fell silent except for the settling creak of broken wood. A jagged hole gaped beneath booth six. Dark. Deep. Wrong. Dust floated through the sunlight streaming from the windows. Nobody moved, Nobody breathed. Finally Beau reached behind the counter for a flashlight. Mags followed him carefully toward the edge of the hole while Darlene muttered prayers under her breath “What the hell is down there?” Somebody whispered Beau clicked on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness beneath the diner. At first, Mags only saw dirt, old pipes, rotting support beams, and mud. Then something pale caught the light and her stomach twisted instantly. “No way..” She whispered A human hand reached upward from the dirt. Bones Half buried beneath decades of mud and collapsed wood. Darlene covered her mouth sharply. One of the old men cursed under his breath. But Beau - he went completely still beside her. Mgs looked at him. Really looked at him - at the sudden absence of color in his face, at the way his jaw locked tight enough to twitch. Then she his gaze downward. A rusted silver watch still circled the skeleton’s wrist. Even beneath years of dirt, the engraved initials were visible. R.C. The air disappeared from Beau’s lungs beside her. Ray Calloway - his father, the man who vanished fifteen years ago without a trace.