Page 63 of Born to be Wilder

“Maybe we should just have breakfast in Bertha. I can whip up some French toast.” Doris moved slowly behind them.

“I’m with Doris,” Alice said. “Pulling captain’s rank and not even letting me shower before going out in public is crap.”

“Quit yer gripin’!” I called back, glancing over my shoulder and waving a hand over her. “You literally wake up looking like you’re ready for the big screen. You’re fine. I’m hungry and I want to try some grits. Let’s go.”

They all groaned, then followed me as I pushed the glass door open into Gilly’s Grits. The sweet, savory smells slapped me right in my face, and my stomach roared in approval.

We slid into a booth, and a little blonde smacking gum dropped off our menus. “Name’s Carla. Special is steak ’n’ eggs. Be back to take your order.”

She hurried off without so much as a smile, but based on how packed the place was, I doubted she had the time or the desire.

“Oh, this actually looks good.” Sylvie flipped through the plastic menu, then yawned. “I need coffee. If I don’t even get a shower to wake up, I need a double.”

“Carla looks busy.” Doris craned her neck to look around, and I swallowed a chuckle when I noticed the big dent in the back of her hair. She’d skin me alive for letting her walk around without fixing it, but I was too hungry to care about her vanity.

Carla returned soon with coffee and her little green order pad, filled our cups, and took our order. It arrived faster than I’d expected, and I dug in like I was digging for gold at the bottom of those grits.

“Oh, man! These are amazing!” I shoveled another bite into my mouth.

Alice slid her fork through her eggs. “These are cooked perfectly. These little roadside diners you keep finding sure do know how to cook.”

I pointed my spoon at her, grits overflowing. “Authentic. That’s the key.” Then I popped them into my mouth.

Two tables over, three guys with headsets around their necks were leaning over a stack of clipboards, talking in that fast, stressed-out clip of people who’d already had too much caffeine even at seven in the morning.

The one with the thinning hair and glasses took a huge swig of coffee. “We have got to get this shot today. Screw the perfect light. Someone has to get Randall under control and get this thing back on schedule.”

The younger-looking one with dark tousled hair pointed at his clipboard. “And the budget. Clarice is gonna rip me a new one if I call and ask for an extension one more time.”

“This movie is going to be huge. It has to be right,” the third, a heavyset bald man, said. “Let’s just finish up breakfast and get back to sort this out with Jed.”

My ears didn’t just perk up; they practically twitched.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered, leaning over our pile of blueberry pancakes. “That’s a movie crew. Sounds like they’re shooting nearby.”

The three widows looked around, their eyes all landing on the trio of stressed-out men.

“I’ve always wanted to be an extra in a movie! I’m gonna go ask if we can be in it!” I slapped the table.

Their eyes all mirrored each other’s as they widened.

“Marge! Don’t you dare go over and ask if we can be in a movie!” Sylvie tossed her napkin next to her plate.

“Who are we talking about? Those guys?” Doris pointed obviously, and Alice pushed down her hand.

“Dear God. Please don’t embarrass us with a film crew, Marge.” Alice shook her head.

“Think about it! The Wilder Widows on the silver screen! We’ll be immortal! Literally! That’s almost as good as the vampire thing!”

“Marge, wait—” Sylvie reached for my sleeve, but I was already gone.

I marched over to the crew, ignoring the whispered pleas of the widows behind me.

“Morning.” I pulled up a chair from the empty table beside them and sat down without being asked. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You folks are on a film crew?”

The three of them looked at me, then each other.

“We are,” the bald one said carefully. “Can we help you?”