“And what am I supposed to do in San Francisco for one, or two, or however many days this might take?”

“You can hang out with some of my friends,” Sam offered with a mischievous smile.

“It ain’t Halloween, she don’t want to hang out with none of your friends. Montana, I have a friend from my Raiderette days that works at one of the hotels downtown. She’ll give you the hook up. You can hang with her and stay at the hotel. Not in some haunted house with Sam’s freaky friends.”

Once in the city, fancy cable cars we hopped while city fashion windows we shopped, until finally back in the hotel lobby on an old leather sofa we flopped. We were exhausted from the long day.

“Oh, girl, we got to get back to the airport. We’re about to miss our plane,” Gail shouted, realizing the three hours had almost completely passed. “Get off me!” she yelled at Sam, who was almost dead asleep in her lap.

“Is Montana staying?” Sam asked in half yawn.

“Yes. I’m going to stay. Because nothing beats a failure but a try, right?” I said, finding new fervor.

“And the darkest hour comes just before the break of dawn,” Gail gleefully added.

“And only seekers of love…” Sam announced, standing on the edge of the couch with arms open wide, warming the lobby with the fire from his eyes, “…ever become finders of love!”

“Must you always be so damned dramatic?” Gail shot while rolling her eyes.

They had to rush to make their connection. We hugged, Sam flagged a cab, and I watched from the lobby as they fussed and fought, nearly knocking each other down as they climbed into the cab.

Once again I found myself in yet another hotel room, my fate in the hands of chance. I fell into the bed exhausted and the night came and went with no call from Gail. The next day, more cable cars, and I even spotted a few Forty-Niner football stars, but no call from Gail. The third day there were even more cable cars and this time it was Oakland Raider stars, who just at the mention of Gail’s name grew weak in the knees. But the night came and nothing from Gail. I was bored. So bored that I decided to call the only one on the east coast willing to talk at this hour. My eternal standby passenger: good ole William.

Dialing. Dialing. Dialing. No answer. No answer? Why wouldn’t he pick up the phone? He’s home. He’s always home. Maybe he’s in the bathroom or something. So again, I tried.