Heading north

Jack put his sunglasses on and squinted up Highway 1 to the north.   He looked back down at the slip of paper he had picked up in the restaurant.

  “PLEASE – Help me get away from them – please!”

His unfortunate trip to the restroom kept him from seeing them leave.  There was something about her.  He had planned to venture south but was becoming more determined to head north.  He had to see her again.  The last thing he wanted was trouble but those eyes haunted him.  A black SUV.  Simple enough.  He turned north onto Highway 1.

Which Way?

A dog outside the back of the sunset grill picked up his ears. Someone inside the can in back of the Sunset Grill was mightily battling something of extreme agony.

Jack paid his bill with cash. Miss Marvel took it without inquery as to any customer satisfaction. She made a face and glanced towards the restrooms. He laughed heartily.

Jack emerged from the tired art deco front door, cleared his throat and spat into the dry azalia bush. He squinted north towards the direction the dark sedan had headed. Shit. He was going to San Luis Obispo. He guessed he could meander north to Frisco.

Concrete pancakes

The pancakes in his gut were setting up like concrete on a hot desert day. Staying a while was the last thing on jack’s mind when the loud slamming of the diner’s front door brought everything back into reality.

“Those motherfuckers ran out without paying” the waitress was screaming as the cook was heading for the front door pumping a shotgun, his face flushed and full of bad intent.

Jack ran outside.

By then the cook had turned around and was on his way back in. The party in Booth 5 had gotten away, including Jack’s dame in distress.

Sunset Grille

The Sunset Grill on California Cabrillo Highway 1 had very few occupants for a weekday.  Not much to observe over his short stack, bacon and egg over easy except a couple at the counter,  a waitress right out of Marvel Comics and two guys and a gal in the corner booth and.  She was fifty feet away but he could see she was a looker.  And she was looking at him.  A lot.  His gunfighter’s booth was next to the restrooms.  She dropped a paper scrap on the floor as she went by. 
“PLEASE- help me get away from them!  PLEASE!!

the pancakes are good

"The pancakes are good. Maybe I'll stay for a while."

We all would like to change our lives at some point, run away and never look back.

This is what Jack Ebert was doing. He just walked out the door and started driving with no plan or destination in mind. On the road for three days he has stopped for breakfast in this small California coastal village.

He is oblivious to the others in the diner watching him, not hearing the whispers, "there's a new guy in town."

There's a new guy in town

his name is Jack.