The Price

Intro: Milkshake Memories

In her rush to reach the ringing telephone, Alice Carter nearly sprawled on the suitcases she’d left in the hallway. She grabbed the receiver on the fourth ring. A sharp voice on the other end spoke her name, and she instantly recognized it. She smiled. "Vanessa?"

For a fleeting second, anxiety gripped her. Had something happened to her mother? Was there an issue with her publisher?

“I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour! Where on earth have you been?" Vanessa's voice was heavy with frustration.

Alice took a deep breath. “No cell service. It cut out the moment I drove into this godforsaken town.”

Vanessa sighed. “Please, just sell the house quickly. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too.” Alice replied softly.

“So, how is it? As bad as you imagined? Is there mold? Are you going to have to sleep outside?”

Alice glanced around the dimly lit hallway. “I don’t know yet. The house is... well, it's rather... cozy.”

"Cozy? Alice, I'm calling you on a landline. A fucking landline!"

Alice chuckled. “I know, it's like stepping back in time. Anyway, I'm going to take a look around. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Alright, but don't take too long. I want to hear everything.” Vanessa insisted.

“I won't. Talk soon.” Alice hung up the phone, a mix of excitement and anxiety rising inside her as she prepared to explore the unfamiliar house.

Alice grabbed her remaining suitcases from the car and dragged them into the living room, then slowly spun around, taking in her surroundings. She was now standing in the middle of Margaret Mercer's old home, though, technically, it was hers now.

The room seemed frozen in time, a reflection of the past, filled with antique furniture and faded floral prints. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with porcelain figurines and thick dusty books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades.

Alice wrinkled her nose, the house came complete with an old lady smell of lavender and aged wood.

But something about the room seemed... off. She glanced around, trying to pinpoint what felt out of place. Then it hit her: there was no TV. Not even an old, bulky model.

She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. This house, like its former owner, was a relic of the past, clinging to traditions that the world had long since moved beyond.

Margaret had certainly been old-fashioned.

Alice hadn’t even known about her passing until two days ago, when a disheveled-looking lawyer had tracked her down. He seemed irritated by the fact that she had moved to a new town four times in the past year, which had made it difficult for him to find her.

The lawyer explained that Margaret, her aunt and her mother’s estranged sister, had died and left her the house along with all its furniture. There was also a moderate sum of money, to be split between Alice and her mother, Mabel.

Alice frowned at the thought of her mother, someone she hadn’t seen in years. Memories of her time living here flooded back—those two years when her mother couldn’t care for her, and Margaret had taken her in. She had gone to school in this town, attended prom here, and for a while Ironwood had felt like home. But when her mother reappeared, ready to take Alice back, things hadn’t gone smoothly. Alice, not wanting to hurt her mother, had reluctantly agreed to leave with her, though her aunt had resisted. The fallout between Margaret and her mother had been bitter, and they never spoke again.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Alice tried to call her mother once more. No signal. She used the landline instead, but the call went straight to voicemail—again.

Since learning about the inheritance, she had tried to contact Mabel dozens of times, with no response. Texts, calls, everything went unanswered.

She sighed, pushing the thought away. If her mother had truly wanted to see her, she would have made the effort to find her. Who needed her anyway?

For as long as Alice could remember, it had always been her and Vanessa. Her best friend was like a sister—fiercely protective, always ready with advice and a shoulder to cry on. Honestly, Alice liked it that way.

Inheriting this house couldn’t have come at a better time. She was between jobs, waiting on a call from her writing agency. It was the perfect time to relocate, and a change of scenery would do her good.

As soon as she received the news, she had packed up her old Beetle with everything she owned and headed to the small town of Ironwood.

Things had fallen into place... well, not so much for Margaret, she thought with a wry smile.

She wandered through the rest of the house, her curiosity growing. The dining room was dominated by a massive wooden table surrounded by eight high chairs. It looked like it had been borrowed straight from a castle, and, unsurprisingly, there were more books—shelves full of them, tucked into every available corner.

Though Alice never cared much for Aunt Margaret's old-fashioned furniture, they shared a deep love for books, a bond that Alice never fully appreciated when she was a teen.

Alice was a moderately successful writer, enough to keep the bills paid, but she was still waiting for that lucky break—for her muse to strike with that one idea that would change it all. She had seen a little success over the years, selling her work to local bookstores and online, with occasional commissions, mostly for steamy romance stories. People always wanted a good romance, she mused with a smirk—passionate, scandalous, and all too predictable.

But now, with this house and a bit of financial breathing room, maybe she could finally focus on writing that novel. The one that had always lingered in the back of her mind, just waiting to come to life.

Moving on, Alice discovered a small laundry room. It had both a washer and dryer, they both looked ancient. She stared at them suspiciously. Please let the washer and dryer work, she thought. There was no way she was going to the laundromat in town.

The kitchen, though large and clearly well-used, hit her with an overwhelming smell of vinegar and spices the moment she stepped inside. Alice winced. Thank God she wasn’t much of a cook. Avoiding this room would be easy.

Next, she found a bathroom, which, unlike the rest of the house that hadn’t been redecorated since the late '70s, looked surprisingly modern. She couldn’t help but wonder why Margaret had chosen to update only the bathroom while letting the rest of the house linger in the past. It clearly wasn't a money issue given the sum Alice had just inherited.

Finally, she stepped into what she assumed was a bedroom, though it didn’t resemble one in the traditional sense. There was no closet, no mirror, no nightstands—none of the usual furnishings. Instead, there was a massive mahogany bed, imposing and heavy, alongside a battered green leather wingback chair. Stacks of books were piled haphazardly, climbing up the walls to the ceiling, turning the room into a strange mix of library and sleeping quarters.

The walls were adorned with various paintings, most were bland, washed-out landscapes, but two framed clippings stood out to her. One was a printed blog post, and the other, a book review. Both were instantly familiar. Alice had written the blog post years ago, and the book review was about her own published novel.

Margaret had clearly kept track of her, quietly following her career from afar. It was strange, though, that she had never reached out. But then again, Alice hadn’t either.

Her stomach growled, snapping her out of her thoughts. It had been hours since she’d grabbed a burger at a roadside café, and now she was starving. Reluctantly, she headed to the kitchen in search of food, already bracing herself for disappointment. Sure enough, the cupboards and fridge had been cleaned out.

There was only one solution: head into town. And as she recalled, she’d passed a diner on her way in. It was the same place she used to visit daily during her high school years, hanging out there with friends after school. Maybe she could grab some takeout and relive a few memories.

Standing in front of the hallway mirror, she took a moment to assess herself. She pulled her hair back into a fashionably messy bun on top of her head and fished a bottle of perfume from her suitcase. A few liberal sprays of the rose-scented fragrance clung to her skin, the sweet aroma soothing her nerves.

Satisfied, Alice glanced down at her boots. Reaching into her handbag, she retrieved the small knife she always carried for safety. As a single woman, it never hurt to be cautious. She tucked it securely into her boot, feeling the familiar weight against her ankle. With a reassuring pat, she straightened up and met her own gaze in the mirror. "There, that’ll do."

The moment she stepped into the diner, the familiar scent of grease and grilled meat hit her nostrils, stronger and better than she remembered. The place hadn’t changed much—if anything, it felt like she had stepped into the past. The old-fashioned booths, the checkered floors, even the retro neon sign flashing above the counter were all exactly as they had been years ago. But the atmosphere was different now. Back in high school, it had been packed with noisy chatter—cheerleaders giggling at the central tables, football players boasting too loudly, and a constant hum of teenage energy.

Now, the diner was quieter, with a more subdued murmur of conversation. The customers were older, and the buzz of youthful exuberance had been replaced by quiet chatter. It was still the same diner, but it felt like a different world.

“Alice?”

A familiar voice called out, stopping her in her tracks. The sound of it pulled her back through the years, and she instantly recognized the voice of her teenage best friend, Susy.

Turning toward the sound, Alice saw a brunette waving at her from a booth. Susy looked older, of course—her hair was shorter, and there was more depth to her features—but the smile was unmistakably hers, and her eyes still held that same mischievous spark.

"Susy!" Alice’s face lit up with a smile as she made her way over and slid into the booth. "I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been ages."

Susy grinned, leaning in a little. “Tell me about it! I thought I was seeing a ghost when you walked in. What are you doing back in Ironwood?”

Alice shrugged, a mix of nostalgia and sadness in her expression. “Inherited Aunt Margaret's house. Just got here today.”

Susy’s eyebrows shot up. “No way! The old Mercer place? How’s it treating you so far?”

“Well... it's definitely old,” Alice chuckled, “but there’s something oddly comforting about it. Even though I’ve only been here a few hours, it feels... familiar.”

Susy laughed. “Familiar? Well, you did live there for two years. The best two years of your life, obviously, thanks to me. I mean, it’s not the house, Alice. It’s my sparkling presence lingering in the air, like a fine perfume.”

Alice grinned. “Right, I’m sure that’s what it is. The lingering scent of Susy... Eau De Chaos.”

Susy winked. “Exactly! You’re welcome.”

Alice felt a wave of warmth wash over her as she settled into the conversation with Susy. It was like no time had passed at all. The connection between them still lingered in the air, bringing with it a sense of comfort Alice hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“It’s good to be back. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place.”

Susy smiled warmly, her eyes creasing at the corners. “Well, it’s good to have you back. Things have been pretty dull around here, but maybe you’ll shake things up a bit. Just like old times.”

Alice smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you know me. I always manage to stir up something.”

At that moment, two men walked into the diner, laughing and chatting. Susy nearly choked on the milkshake she had just started sipping. She leaned in closer to Alice, trying to keep her voice low but failing miserably. “Don’t look now, but Ben and Tony just walked in.”

“No way!” Alice couldn’t help herself and turned around, locking eyes with Tony—the boy she’d gone to prom with, now very much a man. His eyes lit up with recognition, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Susy? Alice?” Ben called out, his voice heavy with disbelief. He and Tony wasted no time heading over to join the two women at the booth.

“This is turning into a real reunion!” Susy laughed, scooting over to make room.

After a quick round of greetings and hugs, Alice filled the men in on what she had just told Susy—the reason she was back in town, the inheritance, and her plans for Margaret's house.

The unexpected reunion prompted them all to order a round of fries and burgers, deciding to settle in for a trip down memory lane.

Between bites of greasy diner food and slurps of milkshakes, old memories and stories of high school mischief resurfaced. The four of them hadn’t been popular kids or athletic stars. They didn’t fit in with the rebels, the nerds, the goths, or the skaters. They were something else entirely—a group of tricksters, constantly planning and pulling pranks on teachers, students, and even the principal.

“Remember when we convinced everyone the cafeteria was serving ice cream for lunch because of the heatwave?” Ben asked, laughing as he stole a fry from Susy’s plate.

“And that poor teacher whose car we covered with sticky notes!” Tony chimed in. “She never figured out who did it.”

“Ah, but nothing tops the fake inspection prank.” Susy said, her eyes gleaming.

Ben leaned back, grinning. “And who could forget the night we snuck into the school and switched all the classroom numbers before the new school year."

“Oh my god,” Alice said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “The chaos on the first day was unreal. All those poor freshmen wandering around lost.”

Susy added, shaking her head. “The look of pure frustration on their faces was priceless.”

Tony smirked. “And let’s not forget Alice’s masterpiece—the fake detention slips.”

Alice shrugged, feigning innocence. “Hey, someone had to tell Mark about his terrible breath. It was a public service.”

The group erupted in laughter, remembering how Alice had crafted official-looking detention slips for the most absurd reasons. Mark’s offense? Endangering the public with toxic breath.

Ben wiped away a tear, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Man, we were relentless.”

“We had no shame,” Tony agreed, grinning. “But we had a hell of a lot of fun.”

For a while, the years melted away, and for that moment in the diner, they were the same group of mischievous pranksters, plotting their next adventure and reveling in the joy of shared memories.

By the time the burgers and fries were long gone and the last of the milkshakes had been sipped dry, Alice leaned back in the booth, a mischievous glow in her eyes. "So, what do you do for fun around here?"

Susy perked up. "Well, we have the drive-in on Friday nights?"

The others exchanged glances, staring at Susy as though she'd just suggested the most outlandish thing in the world.

Alice raised an eyebrow. "I meant FUN, Susy. You know, dancing, drinking… maybe something a little more exciting than a drive-in?"

Susy sighed. "Well, the pub on Maple Road just closed down because of mold. Renovations are going to take a few months at least."

Alice groaned. "I’m only here for a couple of days, tops. When are we ever going to be together like this again?"

Tony cleared his throat. “There’s always the Viper's Nest.”

As soon as he mentioned it, Susy and Ben exchanged uncomfortable glances. Their faces turned serious, both shaking their heads at Tony.

Alice leaned forward, intrigued. “Viper's Nest? What’s that?”

“It’s a bar owned by the Vipers,” Susy explained, lowering her voice. “The local motorcycle gang. It's in what we used to call the Rust District.”

“And it’s dangerous,” Ben added quickly. “They don’t exactly like people from our side of town, and they HATE outsiders.”

Alice smirked. “I’m not exactly an outsider. I lived here once, remember?”

“Still, it’s a rough place,” Ben warned. “The bar’s run by Jax Ryder. You remember him, right? He used to run with the rebels back in high school—always getting arrested for drinking and getting into fights.”

Alice frowned, trying to remember. “Vaguely... Wasn’t he the scrawny kid who asked me to prom once?”

Susy grinned. “The one and only. But trust me, he’s not scrawny anymore. Picture a Viking—huge, with stubble, tribal tattoos, and a seriously bad temper.”

“And a reputation for breaking noses,” Ben added. “He’s the leader of the gang now.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “How bad can it be? It’s just one night. If it sucks, we’ll leave.”

“Assuming they *let* us leave,” Ben muttered under his breath.

Tony shrugged. “Don’t exaggerate, Ben. I went there a few weeks ago with Andy and some of the guys, and we had a blast.”

Ben shot him a skeptical look. “Didn’t Andy come home with a black eye?”

Tony waved him off. “That’s beside the point. He earned that black eye all on his own. But the night was fun, and the bar’s not as bad as people make it out to be.”

Alice grinned and stood up, pulling on her jacket. “Well, that settles it. We’re going to the Viper's Nest.” She walked toward the door, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder. “First round’s on me!” She called out as she pushed the door open, leaving the others to exchange nervous looks before reluctantly following her out into the night.