The waitress returned as soon as I had mentally made my decision and filled both of the mugs on the table without asking if I wanted any.

“On the house after midnight,” the waitress jingled.

Much to my surprise, she then plopped down in the chair that Kyle had been sitting in and started playing with her bun.

“I bet you’re glad to see another woman in this place. I sure am,” the waitress started in.

I let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess,” I agreed and started furiously spinning the menu in circles on the table.

The waitress started talking again, but I was mostly blocking her out. I was more concerned with why Kyle was taking so long to come back from the bathroom. The fact that he never washed his hands and had a deep fear of shitting in public restrooms usually kept his bathroom breaks as fast as a NASCAR pit stop.

My eyes drifted over to the men’s room door that he had disappeared into. No signs of life.

“What is bringing you through this way?”

I jumped when I turned to see the waitress staring right at me with eyes that were the same color as the table.

“Oh, oh, I, uh, got a job in New York. We are moving there this weekend, from San Francisco,” I said, a little flush in the face from the embarrassment of being startled.

“Ooh la la, what are you doing in New York?”

“Uh, I work for a public relations agency, they transferred me to the main office there.”

The waitress clucked her tongue.