GPS

Excerpt:
At five hundred feet, turn left onto Wilshire Avenue. The device issued a robotic, feminine voice, like HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey shot up on estrogen. She sounded bored and authoritative, not unlike his mother, but Cale didnt mind. Miss GPS hardly turned him on. Ryan shouldnt feel threatened.

Previous excursions to the upscale section of Hill Pointe gave him a vague idea of where to drive, and fifteen minutes into the trek Cale felt secure with the global positioning systems accuracy. He merged onto the interstate, followed the instructions to exit at the proper off-ramp, and crawled through thick, Friday night traffic. He passed multiple strip malls and shopping centers, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shakeys familiar neon cowboy hat logo so he wouldnt have to rely on the device much longer.

At five hundred feet, turn right onto Phipps Boulevard, the voice intoned, and Cale complied at the first opportunity.

Follow for five miles.

A fleeting sense of discomfort washed over Cale. The turn seemed to guide him away from the populated commercial area of Hill Pointe, and deeper into residential neighborhoods. Parking lots and foot-high store signstheir height stunted by city ordinancegave away to gated communities and private tennis courts. Cale consulted the moving map on the small monitor before him and noted the straight line on which the GPS had him driving.

This cant be right, he muttered. After two minutes the darkening sky forced Cal to switch on his headlights and he cursed. The digital clock on his dashboard read 6:55. No matter what he didturned around, stayed the course, called for helphe would be late.

A quick glance at the rearview mirror revealed no cars behind him, so he slowed down and hugged the curb. He grabbed his phone from the passengers seat and dialed for Myra, only to get her voicemail. Myra, call me as soon as you get this, he barked. Im fucking lost. This is going to cost you two drinks and quite possibly a hotel because Ill be too drunk to drive.

Soon as he hung up, though, he realized Myra would gladly comply to that, assuming the date succeeded.

Miss GPS interrupted his anxiety and guided him left onto a residential street. A yellow diamond sign came into focus and Cale sighed heavily on seeing hed hit a cul de sac.

You have reached your destination, the voice sang.

The fuck I have. Cale idled between two carports and turned on the dome light. His cell phone didnt have wireless Web functionality, and Myra had yet to return his call. She hadnt the foresight, either, to give him Ryans number or one for the Hill Pointe Shakeys. This left him with little recourse but to backtrack to the nearest convenience store and hope somebody there could direct him to the restaurant.

Some gift you are, he mumbled, and moved to shift into reverse when a vision filled his side of the windshield.

Lean, bare legs stretched up to a loose pair of jogging shorts, shining in his headlights. A tight, white t-shirt stretched over a broad chest and accentuated chiseled arm muscles. A handsome face, crowned with a thick head of dark hair, studied him with a mixture of confusion and bemusement.

Cale nodded and offered a slight wave. He knew he didnt belong here, and began to ease the truck backward when the man let go of the garbage hed pulled to the curb and approached.

Damn. While Cale normally didnt mind chatting up a cute guy, he figured this one likely didnt take kindly to a rumbling diesel beast polluting his property. Yeah, yeah, he said,

Im going, guy.

The man motioned for Cale to roll down his window, and Cale met a piercing pair of blue eyes to complete the gorgeous picture before him.

Youre obviously lost, he said.

And now Im found. Hallelujah.