Page 49 of The Law of Attraction
Adam shrugged as he started for the car. “No idea.” He unlocked it and held her door open for her.
He drove them back down the two-lane road until it met up with the highway again, and turned toward their motel. It was a fifteen minute drive from the plant, past a couple farming towns too small for even a post office, much less a hotel or restaurant, and over a river that wound back and forth across the highway a few times.
They were staying at the Quality Inn, which was positively luxurious compared to their accommodations the night before. It had been recently renovated, and the lobby featured shiny new tile, a pair of faux-leather couches, and a cluster of high-top cafe tables alongside a granite bar where a continental breakfast was served each morning, according to the motel manager who checked them in.
Their rooms were at opposite ends of one wing of the long, low motel. Olivia’s was closest to the lobby, and before Adam left her at her door they made a plan to meet back up in five minutes and walk over to the diner across the parking lot for dinner.
It was just enough time to drag her bag into her room, wash up a little, and reform her frizzy hair into a fresh bun.
The rain had ramped up into a proper downpour by then, so she grabbed her umbrella on the way out the door. Adam didn’t have one, so they huddled under hers together as they splashed across the parking lot.
The diner reminded Olivia of what IHOPs were like when she was little, before the corporate facelift: sticky and a little grungy, but homey in an old-fashioned, Formica-covered sort of way. The menu was of the unpretentious, stick-to-your ribs variety that was becoming harder to find in Los Angeles. Sure, she could practically feel her cholesterol rising just sitting in the vinyl booth, but it was reassuring to know there were still restaurants in America that didn’t serve quinoa or kale.
They both ordered coffee to fuel them through the second half of their late night at the plant. She was feeling more hopeful now that they’d actually gotten started. The situation wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared—in fact, it felt pretty manageable. They had two full days before their deadline, and barring any unforeseen catastrophes, they might actually be able to make it.
Olivia ordered chicken-fried steak from a middle-aged waitress who called her “honey,” and Adam followed through on his earlier pledge by getting the same thing.
There was a TV on the wall behind Olivia, and he frowned as he stared past her. “That looks pretty bad.”
She swung around to look at the screen. It was tuned to a local Austin station which had interrupted programming for a weather report. The radar image showed all of central Texas blotted with stripes of red, yellow, and green.
“That must be the storm that kept us from landing in Houston,” she said. “Looks like it’s headed our way.”
“More like right on top of us,” Adam said, gazing out the window. The downpour had turned into a full-scale deluge, and the parking lot was filling up with water.
“We might have to wait it out,” she said. “At least until this band passes.”
The waitress brought their food, and they dug in with the enthusiasm of people who’d been eating out of a vending machine all day. The chicken-fried steak was as big as a hubcap, and Olivia only made it a third of the way through before throwing in the towel.
She watched Adam thoughtfully as he piled a mound of mashed potatoes on his fork. He was three-quarters of the way through his chicken-fried steak and still going strong. How did he eat like that and still have a flat stomach? He must spend every second of his free time in the gym.
“Where did you grow up?” It occurred to her that she knew next to nothing about him, aside from last night’s revelation about his ex-girlfriend—and even that had been light on the details.
He’d mentioned having to change jobs, but he hadn’t said where he’d worked before. For all Olivia knew he’d fled from another city entirely. Not that she could blame him. The whole situation sounded like an absolute nightmare. It was no wonder he’d wound up so prickly and closed off—and so obsessed with truthfulness.
“Riverside.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and poured another cup from the carafe. By Olivia’s count it was his eighth cup of the day. On top of all the Cokes he’d gotten from the vending machine, his blood had to be at least fifty percent caffeine at this point. “What about you? You said you’re from around here somewhere?”
“Houston.”
“So you’re a city mouse, not a country mouse.”
Her lips pursed in irritation. “I’m not signing off on your mouse metaphor.”
“I’ve noticed you seem sensitive about your size.”
“Remember yesterday, when you told me I should point out when you’re being rude?”
He blinked at her over a forkful of steak. “I’m being rude again?”
“If you suspect I’m sensitive about something, maybe just don’t bring it up.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “What brought you to Los Angeles?”
“College. I transferred to Cal State LA after my freshman year at UT.”
“Why’d you transfer?”
She leaned back in the booth, cradling her coffee mug in both hands. There were a lot of reasons—culture, weather, generalized boredom—but one had motivated her above all others. “Mostly, I wanted to be farther away from my family.”
