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I’ll be sure to speak with the kitchen staff to make sure it never happens again,” he says.
    “ You just said they all wear hairnets. What you should do is get yourself one,” I say, leaning over to examine my new salad.
    “ And as an apology for this unfortunate incident, your meal will be on the house tonight,” the manager continues.
    Matt coughs loudly. “We’re, um, all very upset by this. I’m starting to worry about what might have been on my steak. Or in my potato, buried under all that artery-clogging cheese and bacon you people drown it in…”
    Tiffany catches on and jumps in. “What if my salad had a hair in it and I ate it? What am I supposed to do, drink a bottle of Nair?”
    “ No, no-“ the manager starts, but she cuts him off by standing up, jumping onto her chair, and banging a spoon against her water glass.
    Now where does she get off stealing my spotlight, the underhanded bitch?
    “ Everyone, I’d like you to know that there was a hair in my friend’s salad, and there may be one in yours, so you should all go home and drink some Nair!” she announces.
    All of a sudden everyone in the room, even the half-hungover, half-drunk frat boys, has fallen totally silent.
    I realize, with horror, that once again, someone else has upstaged me. Tiffany, in her obvious ploy to get a free meal in more or less the same way I did, stumbled upon the viral video moment without even trying. Why is it so fucking easy for some people and not for me?
    As the manager assures Tiffany that all of our meals will be on the house, one of the frat boys drunkenly lurches to his feet and asks, “I just drank half a keg. Nair has alcohol in it, right?”
    As I’m trying, desperately, to think of a way to steal back the spotlight, Richard leans over and whispers to me, “Wasn’t it lucky you found a hair in your salad?”
    “ Lucky?” Normally I’d have to feign unhappiness, but right now I really don’t have to fake it. “How is this lucky for me, Richard? Because I got a free meal?”
    “ You and all your rich friends got a free meal – all because the balding manager wandered away from the desk he obviously sits at all day, into the kitchen where the food is prepared, and lost another hair right there in your salad.” Richard folds his arms and leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing at me. And are those eyes blue! If he wasn’t such a fucking pain in the ass, I might actually be attracted to him.
    “ If you’re implying that I did something to help that hair get into my salad, you’re completely wrong,” I snap. “And do I look happy? Tiffany is having a viral moment if I ever saw one, and no one who sees this video is even going to remember I was here. Now would you please shut up so I can figure out how to get the focus back on me?”
    Richard picks up his phone and flicks his thumb across the front, causing the red light to blink out. “The show’s over. You might as well stop recording too.”
    I realize he’s right. Tiffany, Morgan and the others are following the manager to the front of the building, where he is still profusely apologizing. The other diners are following suit, except that they’re stopping to pay for their meals. Suckers. With a sigh, I thumb off my phone, grab my bag and shove my chair back.
    “ Can I ask you something? Now that we’re off the record?” Richard asks.
    I’m not dumb enough to fall for this one. “Yes, I really did find that hair in my salad.”
    Chapter Five
    It's been a shitty day and all I want to do is go back to my shitty, cheap motel room in the Motel One (so named, I'm sure, because they don't have repeat customers), take a shower and dig into the Oreo stash in my suitcase. Hey, I refrained from ordering the Oreo Bomb desert at the restaurant (mostly because it had about as many calories as five billion salads, but also  because it was almost as expensive as the salad). And yes, the $2.50 plus tax I paid for the Oreos came out of my