An opportunity, the fucking voice in the back of his head said. Drive out of here, head south, and announce to Curtis and everyone on that huge company campus that you can write the code to save the planet.
He laid his head in his hands on the steering wheel and looked to the passenger seat. His three phones represented all the communication he had with the outside world anymore, short of the brief conversations with hotel desk clerks and fast-food cashiers. Which, he reminded himself, was what he had wanted. After the tight living of writing Terry and the stress of selling her, he had needed time to himself, to figure out who he was and what he wanted to do next. Disappearing into the woods was a time-honored path to discovery. It wasn’t as though he’d be bored forever. He had ski vacations booked through the rest of the winter. The restlessness would pass.
He shifted into reverse and turned the car around. He’d head down the mountain. There were towns at the base where he could take a break from driving. And when he landed back in civilization and checked his e-mail, he told himself, there would be something from Curtis saying he wanted Marc’s help.
Marc drove until Betty announced the glories of satellite reception. Then, before he could lose his connection to the modern world, he asked his favorite phone to give him directions to food. As backup, he asked Betty, too.
They directed him to the parking lot of an old-fashioned, run-down diner. His SUV crunched and bumped in the pothole-studded asphalt. The fissures in the earth must have been left over from previous winters, since it was only the beginning of December and winter hadn’t attacked northern Idaho with the full force of her power yet. His eyes skimmed the building as he made his way toward it. The E in the neon OPEN sign was out, and the N flickered. The door opened just fine, though, and it smelled like bacon and sausage inside, so he sat himself, as the sign instructed.
A waitress in her late twenties walked up to him with a menu in one hand and a globe of coffee in the other. Her bright, yellow-blond hair was bluntly cut at her chin and swung about her face as she walked. Her red lips were turned down, and when she got closer, he realized that she was younger than he’d first thought, early twenties probably.
She looked tired as she set the menu in front of him and reached out to turn up his coffee cup. She had dark, puffy circles under her eyes, and her face looked wan. Even her shoulders sagged. The woman seemed exhausted, the kind of tired that sank into one’s bones and made each step feel like a slog through mud.
“Welcome to Babe’s,” she said, pouring coffee before asking if he wanted decaf, or even coffee at all. Marc was tempted to invite her to sit down—before she fell down—but wasn’t smooth enough to pull that off without sounding like a creep or making her feel uncomfortable. He decided to make an extra effort to be a good customer instead.
And leave a good tip.
“We’re out of the steak for steak and eggs. The orange juice is fresh squeezed.” That bit was said with an edge to her voice, as if she would be the one squeezing it and he would be the one regretting ordering it. Not only did she seem weary from lack of sleep, but she seemed weary from life, he judged from the way light seemed to try—and failed—to flicker in her eyes. “Everything else is on the menu. I’ll give you a minute to look it over. Ya want water?”
If she was as worn-down as he was guessing, it was no wonder she sounded eager to get rid of him. Perversely, he liked the careless tone she addressed him with. Excellent customer service was nice, but the barely-on-the-edge of polite waitress with cherry-red lips was far more interesting. Especially one who was as cute as she was in her short skirt and ruffled white apron.
“No water,” he said.
She wobbled slightly as she turned to walk away, her skirt swinging almost as much as her hair. God, it barely covered her butt. He looked up, embarrassed to be staring at the backs of her thighs.
“Wait,” he called to her back. “What should I get?”
When she turned around to look at him, her face had softened and there was the hint of a smile on her lips, giving him a glimpse of the woman she might be underneath her fatigue. When he and Curtis had been spending days and nights building their app, he’d had times when no amount of coffee would help to keep his eyelids open. And here she was, even managing a smile. It was impressive. And intriguing.
“Get the Elk Chips. Roasted potatoes, scrambled eggs, peppers, sausage, and cheese all in one big pile, topped with sour cream and salsa. It’s basically everything you could want in a breakfast.”
“And what if I’m a sweet guy?” he asked, attempting an easy, flirtatious tone, something he’d never had much success with. However, now that he’d seen her smile, he didn’t want her to leave the table and he was going to give it everything he had.