Third Times the Charm

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

He stared out of the bug splattered windshield of his Shelby GT350 at the whitecaps as they formed on the Pacific Ocean just over the edge of the cliff. As much as he wanted to blame his assistant, he knew it was his own damn fault. If he didn’t want to end up stranded on a desolate highway perched on the sheer edge of the continent, then he shouldn’t have been driving a 56-year-old car. He looked down at his cell phone one last time, yup, still no bars, and with a sigh he extracted himself from the car and started walking down the shoulder of the road towards the little cluster of buildings he had passed five miles back.

It started the moment he walked in the door; he could feel all eyes upon him. He knew what they were thinking, he knew, despite his sunglasses and his hat, that they recognized him. He knew it was only a matter of time, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was quiet in the store, despite the seven or so people that had stopped their shopping to stare at him. He ignored them and turned his attention to the slack jawed clerk standing behind the counter.

“Excuse me, it seems my car has broken down a few miles up the road and I cannot get a signal on my cell, do you have a phone I may borrow?”

He braced himself for the words he was sure he was about to hear, but instead the clerk grunted and pulled a phone out from under the counter. He took the phone from the clerk’s hands and frowned down at the keypad. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “what was the number?”

The first one he dialed ended in a message “the number you dialed is incorrect, or is no longer in service.” He hung up and tried again. The second number he dialed ended at an answering machine for a woman who’s name he didn’t recognize. “Shit,” He whispered as he punched in the numbers again. This time a familiar voice was on the other end.

“Dave, finally!” he exclaimed.

“Hey,” a voice hollered from the back of the store. He turned and made eye contact with the person who was so rudely interrupting his phone call, before he realized the mistake he had made. The yokel smiled, “sounds like third time’s the charm” he exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh,” came the voice of the clerk behind him, “you’re that guy!”

“What guy?” one of the other customers asked.

“The ‘third times the charm’ guy,” her shopping companion replied.

“Come on’” pipped up the yokel, “say it! Say ‘Third times the charm”!”

“Where are you?” came Dave’s voice through the headset.

“I don’t know, some tiny town in the middle of nowhere on Highway 1.”

“Wow, how about that, even in the middle of nowhere they’ve heard of your tv show.”

“It would seem so,” he sighed.