CURMUDGEON (2018 Watty Wildcard Winner)

Chapter Eleven - Richard

After more than twelve hours of sleep interrupted only by the occasional bathroom break, Richard woke to sunlight peeking in around the edges of the heavy hotel drapes. He stood in the powerful spray of the shower, letting the hot water work magic on the kinks in his muscles, and dressed in a fresh change of WalMart clothes.

Stanley arranged for a cab to take them to a place called "Al's Breakfast."

"Don't understand why we gotta go traipsing all over town. They got coffee and muffins right here in the hotel," Richard said.

"Coffee and muffins are for businessmen dashing off to their next meeting. After a certain age, it becomes important for a man to properly nourish himself."

The elevator dinged open and they entered the lobby. A powerful smell of roses filled the air and Richard paused to inhale deeply. Each of his senses seemed more acute than they had been in a long time, as though the adrenaline of the Strigoi attack had blown the cobwebs out of his pipes.

We should hurry," Stan said, glancing around the lobby.

"If you're in a hurry, we can get coffee and muffins right back there."

"No, no. I just..." he trailed off, seeming distracted. "I don't want them to run out of food, you know. They're quite popular."

"You make about as much sense as boobs on a man."

Stanley roared with laughter. "Come on, my friend. You'll love Al's. I promise."

He was right. Richard nearly moaned in pleasure over the thick Belgian waffle smothered in cream cheese and strawberries. He hadn't had a breakfast like this since the accident that led to him being hospitalized for hip surgery and then sent to Everest. It was even more delicious than he remembered! How could he have ever taken cheese for granted? Cheese was a gift from God.

Stanley smiled at him over his fancy omelet. "Al's never disappoints."

Richard couldn't quite bring himself to admit out loud that Stan had been right. Coffee and muffins didn't hold a candle to this. This kind of food did more than nourish the body. It gave a man a reason to stay alive until his next meal. He settled with, "I still think we need to get a move on."

The other man's eyes were scanning the restaurant.

"You lookin' for somethin'?"

Stanley met his gaze. "No, of course not. Just admiring the industry of this diverse group."

Richard frowned. He had the feeling there was more going on than he knew, and being made to feel foolish always put him in a surly mood. Still, it was hard for a man to stay angry when sweet starbursts of joy were exploding out of ripe strawberries and into his mouth. He sipped at the dark coffee, letting the flavor of the slightly bitter brew mix with the sweetness of his food.

The noise level in the restaurant shifted, drawing Richard's eyes to the door. A stunning young woman stood just inside. It seemed every eye in the place was on her, and it was no mystery why. She must have been nearly six feet tall with a glossy blonde braid that hung over one shoulder and almost to her waist. Her black pants could have been painted onto her long, shapely legs. A sliver of tanned skin shown between her belt and the bottom of the t-shirt that stretched across her ample bosom.

"Dagom! That girl's a tall drink o' water on a hot summer day," Richard mumbled, not really meaning to say the words out loud. An inexplicable tingle ran down his spine. It was the sensation his mother would have described by saying a ghost walked over her grave.