Randall Riches (2002)
“She’d gotten the number from the man at the registration desk.
She didn’t hear any sound from inside. She pounded louder. “Rich? Are you all right?” Then she pounded again.
She decided to get the manager to open the door. As she was leaving, however, she heard a faint voice.
“Yeah?”
“Rich? Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you awake? It’s seven-thirty. I’m going to the café for breakfast. Are you coming?”
“Uh, yeah. I gotta get dressed.”
He must’ve taken the pill she’d given him last night. He sounded a little fuzzy this morning. “If you know what you want for breakfast, I can go ahead and order for you.”
“Okay, coffee, a short stack, scrambled eggs, bacon.”
And there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, she marveled. Not that she’d noticed, she assured herself. “Okay. Come as soon as you can so it won’t get cold.” Then she headed for the café.
The same waitress was on duty. “You worked last night and this morning, too?” Sam asked her as she sat down.
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