Part 24 (1/2)
”Coffee?”
The cowboy begins to answer, thinks better of it, and looks to Kate who says, ”With cream.”
The cowboy smiles at the waitress. ”Make that two.”
As the waitress heads for the counter Kate digs around in her bag, finds her cigarettes, lights one, exhales, looks at the cowboy for a good long time, and finally says, ”Who the h.e.l.l are you?”
”Franklin Marshall Taylor, at your service. My friends call me F.M.”
Kate inhales from her cigarette deeply, ”How did I get here?”
”I drove you, Ma'am.”
Kate scowls. ”Look, I don't know who you are or what I'm doing here, but I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take me back to Hollywood. If not, I'll scream so loud it'll blast your b.a.l.l.s off.”
A moment later the waitress breaks the tension by bringing their coffee and setting it down. ”What can I getcha?”
F.M. gestures to Kate. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she answers, ”Nothing. Coffee's fine.”
”What about you, mister?”
”I'll have two eggs scrambled, white toast, two strips of bacon, and orange juice.”
The waitress takes the menus and leaves. F.M. looks at Kate. ”You should eat something. We have a long road ahead of us.”
”We don't have anything, cowboy. I am going to the bathroom. When I return, I want you to have that truck of yours fired up and ready to head back to Hollywood. Comprende?” She abruptly gets up, taking her bag, and heads to the john.
She's was.h.i.+ng her face at the sink with the pink granulated soap favored in truck stops when their waitress enters the bathroom and looks at Kate.
”Hey.”
”Hi.” Kate continues was.h.i.+ng last night's makeup off her face.
The waitress gets out her compact, lipstick, and a teasing comb. ”Rough night?”
”Apparently.” Kate dumps her bag on the counter. Cigarettes, coins, matches, sc.r.a.ps of paper, a drawing pad, pencils, a small wallet, and a cell phone that is on but indicates no service. Its battery is very low. She begins gathering up the change.
The waitress smiles at Kate in the mirror. ”Well, I think it's terrific.”
”What's terrific?”
”Your trip!”
Kate looks at her, puzzled. ”My trip?”
The waitress is looking in her compact, piling on the lipstick. ”Yeah. You and the cowboy! I've always wanted to see Graceland. I saw Elvis in '72 in Vegas. He was just starting to get fat, you know, but boy, that man still packed a wallop! I was just a kid then, but I would've dropped everything if he'd given me the word. But, honey, that man of yours? Hoo-wee! Now that's what I call a hunk. Puts Brad Pitt to shame if you ask me. I'd hang on to that one if I was you. How long you two been together?” She turns around, but Kate is no longer there.
Kate looks around the restaurant. The booth where she and F.M. sat is now empty, the busboy clearing the remains of his half-eaten breakfast off the table. She looks out the window and sees him standing by the pickup truck. She marches out the front door and right past him to a phone booth.