She doesn't go to his car, walking out to the dark road instead, once again following the white line. This time there is no moon to light her path, dark clouds gathering in the sky overhead. He drives along at a snail's pace beside her with the hazard lights on until she screams in frustration and stops.
"Get in the car." Exasperation runs through his words. He doesn't know what else to do, and the thought of driving along at a snail's pace for the next couple hours makes his blood boil.
Thankfully, she owes him money, so she obliges, curling up in the passenger seat like a child. It takes her a full twenty minutes to calm down enough to explain why she angrily stomped out of the diner, leaving him standing with two styrofoam boxes and a very confused Delores. "I'm not a charity case, Danny."
"I didn't say you were. I'm sorry, ok, Jesus. Forgive me for being practical." He doesn't understand why he's apologizing, or why she's seething with anger in the seat next to him. He's not actually sorry, and he knows the tone of his voice conveys his displeasure. In fact, he's rather ticked about the entire situation. "Eight ninety-five is not a big deal to me, and it clearly is to you. I just wanted… I don't see what the problem is."
She's biting her bottom lip like she's trying not to cry, and Danny has no idea what to say. He turns away from her to pay attention to the road, waiting for her response.
"Right, right. Of course. We've already established I'm not your peer. You can't let me forget." She's not looking at him anymore, fishing once again in her mess of a bag. She finds what she's looking for and drops a handful of crumpled bills into his lap. "There, even steven. Now stop the car."
He doesn't slow, pressing his foot down on the accelerator as if to make a point. He's not dumping her in the middle of the desert. It's cold and every few minutes thunder rumbles angrily overhead. Her reaction to his largesse is disproportionate, and he doesn't understand why she's starting to cry over eight dollars.
"What is your problem?"
"People like you, just tossing money around like it's not a big deal, and then expecting something in return later."
"What? I didn't-"
She interrupts him, the volume of her voice increasing as she becomes more agitated. "What does eight dollars buy you, Danny? A quick peck on the lips? An over the jeans handy? Is it an ego thing? Do I need to kiss the feet of my savior? What?"
He's shocked at the direction her thoughts are going, and she's starting to actually cry. Words pile up in the back of his throat until they spill out in an ill conceived attempt to placate her. "You're not even my type, so relax, ok?"
She starts laughing through her tears, but it isn't mirthful. The sound borders on hysteria and Danny's stomach clenches as it crescendos. "STOP… THE… CAR." She's hiccupping between words, and the vulnerability coloring her voice pulls at him. The car begins to decelerate and he's not even at a full stop before she's opening the door and disappearing into the night.
Danny sits stunned for a few minutes, and it isn't until the first fat drops of rain splash against the windshield that he's cursing himself and running into the desert after her.
The desert isn't a pleasant place to be during a rainstorm. Each time lightning races across the bruised purple sky everything in front of Danny is illuminated. He can see the muddy rivulets of water starting to form between the squat bushes and menacing cacti. His eyes search the expanse in front of him for her form, but it's hard to see anything in the split second of light.
He calls out for her, the wind catching his voice and carrying it far away. It's useless, and he's so mad he can barely see straight anyway. Wet and miserable, he continues to move toward the only possible destination she could have had in mind.
There's a boulder, Danny guesses it's probably as big as a house, just sitting out in the middle of his field of vision. If she has any sense (a doubtful scenario) she'll seek shelter under the slight overhang on its left.
He marches on, soaked to the skin, his loafers squishing in the mud with each step. He's going blindly, kicking out his feet every couple steps to make sure he's not about to run into anything. A rather large joshua tree meets the tip of his shoe and he curses in pain while moving around it, but there's yet another obstacle in his path.