There was very little conversation. Neither of them wanting to talk about last night, and neither wanting to 'fess up about the necessity of running away from past "loves." (...Which they both had derived was the case for the other...) Finally, one of Kayce's song choices started a heated discussion, mostly about the definition of "sad."

"That's not a sad love song," Clayne admonished.

"What makes you think that? It's almost too morbid for me even. The guy is reminiscing about the time he spent with his girl. There's no indication that they're not still together. The melody is so sadly nostalgic that you can almost hear the tears in his eyes." She snorted. "This is love lost that he hasn't gotten over."

Clayne wrinkled his nose and started his rebuttal. "Typical female reaction! Sukiyaki is not even a love song. It's a protest song against American soldiers, released in '61. The English translation is 'I Look Up as I Walk.' Kyu Sakamoto and a friend, something-or-other Ei, were walking home from a student demonstration, protesting continued U.S. Army presence in Japan. They were both desolate that the demonstration was so ineffective. His friend wrote the lyrics, and he, with his great voice and musical background, put it to music." He paused for emphasis and turning a smug look her way, continued, "The love song version was an American writer putting words to the music."

"How'd you know that?"

"Picked up the language over there..."

"You speak Japanese?"

"I exchange studied there for almost a year. Learned a lot of the language and some of the history. This song was a big part of the political background, so I kind of absorbed it as part of my studies. If you wanted to be a "good" American, you had to see their side of it."

"Don't the Japanese kind of like all things American now?"

"Yeah. The political climate is nothing like a few years ago. I found myself in a tense situation once or twice." He gazed at her profile momentarily and inquired, "Have you spent any time overseas?"

"Nah." She checked her mirrors, preparing to change lanes. "I stumbled into Canada once." She grinned at him as she eased into the slow lane. "Would you believe I was lost?"

He grinned with her.

"Wel-ll ... The thing still sounds 'sad' to me."

He mumbled mostly to himself, "Sad maybe ... Not a love song..." Glancing at Kayce, he noted her lips compressed into a thin line, her eyes squinted. He cocked his head to better see her face, his lips in a sort of moue. He added softly, "Sorry 'bout that 'female' crack." Leaning back against the headrest, he beamed a goofy grin at her. "Truce?"

She glanced at him, and quickly back at the highway ahead, trying to keep her eyes on the road ... and not on him. "Truce." Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she was still amazed at her own warm response to his "pretty" face. "... He really is beautiful...and, as the Beatles would sing... 'Here, there, and ev--ry---where'..." She realized she was smiling "out loud."

Clayne, watching the various emotions flash across her face, lowered his brows, and in a conciliatory tone, queried tentatively, "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"What do you feel like?"

"Please ... not a burger."

"'Kay. Can you eat chicken and drive?"

"Not really ...."

"I'm guessing that eliminates fish also." Brows raised, she nodded several quick little nods. "How about a taco?"

"That's sounds doable." In a diffident manner, she mumbled, "You'd think we were married."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I'll look for a place." He leaned forward and started reading billboards and local signage. "We're in luck. Second off ramp and left." He added, glancing at her face, "I'm glad you decided to wait on the Interstate until today instead of the two-lanes like last night. I guess I would still be out there if you'd decided on a different route yesterday."

They pulled off the road and into a fast food taco joint. They ordered and pulled into a parking space to dole out their choices before heading back out onto the road. As he handed over her drink, he reached over and touched her arm gently. She jumped and glanced sharply at his wrist. He jerked it back quickly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm sorry. I just had a déjà vu." She looked sad for a moment. "I wasn't going to go on about my ex. He just kind of jumped into my head ... the 'bastard.'"

"Do you want to tell me about 'im?" Clayne's voice reflected only mild interest. She detected no condescension or snarkiness. He continued, "I'd really like to know more about your life. You show me yours, and I'll show you mine." He smiled and shrugged. She mulled the idea over a moment and decided on a starting point.

"Okay." She waited a minute while she maneuvered the little car back into the flow of traffic, before she continued.

"I was a groupie, sort of." Clayne's eyes got wider. "I fell in love with a drummer and followed him to L.A." Clayne's brows nearly hit his hairline. "The group discovered that I could sing and asked me to perform with them. That lasted for three months ... until the next girl came along. We were in San Diego when they decided that I didn't 'fit in' with their musical style. My (... air quotes with her left hand ...) boyfriend didn't even protest my ejection from the tour. Actually, I think he was relieved. I cramped his style."

Clayne shook his head slowly side to side. "He's an idiot," Clayne observed softly. He glanced at her somber face. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah. I guess so. I don't think about it much. Well, not all the time anyway... Um, I stumbled onto an open mic night downtown and worked it into a permanent gig. Been there a few months, and I'm doin' all right." She didn't want to admit it, but she added to herself, "... Until I met you, that is. I think I'm going to be a long time forgetting about you, you pretty thing..." She beamed a soft smile his way. "Uh, your turn..."

"Yeah." He released a deep sigh and, after a short pause, spoke slowly and softly. "I was in a committed relationship for two years." She nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue. "I thought I was in love, planned to marry her even. Her name is Celeste, by the way."

He clasped his hands in his lap like a little boy trying to behave and stared off out the passenger side window for a moment. Kayce pretended not to notice how upset he seemed to be and mused to herself, ..."If he doesn't say something soon, I'll let him off the hook..."

He started again. "We were actually living together, had been for a while. I had no inkling that she didn't feel the same way I did. I don't to this day know if it was another guy ... or just me." He sighed again. "We were on our way to a three-day weekend vacation at the beach. I woke up in an empty bed at a motel on the way to A.C."

He splayed his hands in front of himself. "All her luggage was gone. She didn't even leave a note. Haven't heard from her since. I had to call one of her friends to find out what had happened. Her friend told me that she didn't want to see me anymore and not to try to find her." He looked sideways at Kayce with his fingers splayed over his mouth, his chin in his hand, propped on her armrest.

"That's why I decided to start over out here. Since my friend had moved out here, I told him about moving out here, and he got me a job interview." He paused a couple moments again. Trying to sound unconcerned, he finished with, "Isn't that about the saddest thing you've ever heard?" He plastered what he hoped was a nonchalant smile on his face. She patted his arm and beamed him what she hoped looked like a genuine smile.

She didn't want to sound flip and perhaps hurt his feelings. What could she say? She reached over the armrest and grasped his hand, wriggling her fingers to entwine in his. "Clayne?"

"Mmm?" He looked her way.

"I'm glad you're going to be a San Diego-an." He grinned and squeezed her fingers.

"Me, too." Both Kayce and Clayne realized that it might have gotten a little too "real" and wanted to introduce a little levity into the conversation, but didn't know how. The trip grew quiet again as they became lost in their thoughts and, unfortunately, their memories.

Scenery, signs, and small towns became the topics of a disjointed conversation for the duration of the journey. On the outskirts of San Diego, Kayce spoke up to find out where she needed to drop Clayne. "I know most of the city pretty well. Where do you want to go?"

"I'm supposed to stay with my buddy, Stephan Hamer, until I can get my own place. His address is in Lockley Place on the North side. Are you familiar with it? He's not really expecting me this soon, since he figured I was hitching the whole way. I guess I could call him and let him know I'm here."

"Sure. We should be there in about 45 minutes."

"'Kay." Clayne dug an old flip phone out of his backpack and dialed up his friend. Explaining that he had gotten a ride straight through and that he would be on his door step in just a few minutes, he was pleased to hear the genuine enthusiasm that Stephan expressed. Hanging up, he advised Kayce, "All set!"

Kayce started babbling again. "I have Stephan's address. Did you send me his number? You have my number, right? And my current address?" she inquired a tad too cheerfully. He determinedly didn't notice. She noticed him not noticing. Peering out the windshield, concentrating on orienting herself in this part of the city, she smiled sheepishly at Clayne, hoping he didn't notice her nervousness.

She had to admit to herself that her own address was kind of fluid. It changed frequently and was not locality-specific. She might live in the Green District this week, but downtown the next week. Roommates and finances played a large part in her residential choices. The only time her phone number changed was when she got a little behind on the bill, and some snotty customer service type disconnected her.

She gave him an obviously fake smile, as he nodded in acknowledgement.