Don't You Remember?

Pt 1 - A Rainy Night

"The narrator intones in a deep and staid voice, 'It was a dark and stormy night.'" Kayce nearly snickered out loud as she peered carefully through the gloom ahead. "...And, wow, this storm certainly qualifies!" She could hardly see ahead to the puddles of brightness from her headlights. She continued mumbling to herself, "These two-lane country roads are hell at night. This damned rain certainly isn't helping at all. Kayce, girl, you sure picked a crappy night to try to travel cross-country..."

Talking to herself stood to keep her company ... and awake. It had been a lonely fourteen hours so far. Slowing down even a little more, she continued mumbling, "55 my foot. I'm afraid to do 40..." As she eased off the gas pedal, she spotted a flash of orange and a movement ahead...and then quickly behind...as she passed what was evidently some poor guy on foot. She braked carefully and backed very slowly toward him. As he approached her car, she ran the passenger-side electronic window down, and leaned over as he bent down to look in her window. The guy was holding a piece of cardboard over his head, using it as an umbrella. It wasn't doing much in the way of keeping him dry.

He greeted her softly. "Hi! I didn't expect anyone to stop for me out here." ...She marveled to herself, "What a gorgeous deep voice!"...

"Uh, hi, yourself! ...C'mon. Get in before you get wet." ...She thought, "Even a hatchet murderer shouldn't have to walk in this mess..." She giggled as she flipped the door lock and shoved the door a little way open. Opening the door just enough to get in, he tossed his backpack into the back seat and scrambled gingerly onto the passenger seat. As she ran the window back up, he carefully folded his cardboard, and placed it onto the back seat as well. Noticing her arched brows, he advised with a grin, "No littering..." She cocked her head and nodded. "Besides, I may need it when you throw me out of your car."

Chuckling softly, she advised, "Not likely, if you 're a good boy."

He grinned again. "Thank you. I had resigned myself to a very wet walk or a long night snuggled up to a tree." He ran his hand through his hair and wiped the water onto his shirt.

"Hey...Don't do that..." She reached behind him, snagged a small towel, and handed it to him.

Murmuring, "Thanks," he wiped his face and ruffled his longish golden brown hair.

Carefully perusing the road behind them, she put the car in gear before easing back out onto the highway. "I'm Kayce, as in Edgar. Who are you?"

"Clayne, of the Alabama Crawfords." He beamed her a devastatingly beautiful smile. Catching that gorgeous smile, Kayce mused to herself, "...Damn...He's pretty..." He added, "I'm on my way to San Diego..." Leaning forward and peering ahead at the downpour, he commented, "Evidently the hard way. Supposed to have a job waiting for me..."

"Well, if you don't plan on cutting me up and mailing me home ... and you can stand really sad music ... you've got a ride the whole way." His brows shot up and he chuckled softly. She added, "I'm returning home to San Diego after a holiday visit with the 'rents. This time of year, it's mandatory ... but always painful." She twisted her lips into a moue of retrospection and remarked, "Maybe that's why I sing sad songs."

"You're a singer?"

"I'm a wannabe...I 'perform,' which is a very loose translation," she assured him. "Lately I'm at a little bistro coffee shop in the Green district." Glancing at him, a misty little smile on her face, she continued, "I've been nicknamed 'Cryin' Kayce,' 'cause most of my covers are sad, and my own stuff is really heartbreaking." She grinned at him then.

"I'd like to hear you." He glanced at her hopefully.

"Oh, I couldn't...not in the car... I accompany myself on guitar." She blushed. He was surprised that she seemed to be shy about her singing. "Drop in at the bistro sometime. It's called The French Roasted. I'm there most nights...Don't have a real job..." He smiled that devastating smile, and she blushed.