Micah Duma is an unemployed actor spending his days waiting in line at talent agencies, looking for jobs at any restaurant or retail establishment in Los Angeles that will hire him until he gets his big break.
Don Gibbs is one of the city’s most popular and successful restaurant owners, too busy to look for love. He’s a man who guards his feelings and hides his secrets well, until the day Micah walks into his place looking for a job.
Don hesitates to hire him, but gives him a chance and soon finds his ice-cold feelings are beginning to thaw, especially after Micah steps in at the last minute to help him when the café is left shorthanded.
The two begin courting, spending stolen moments together, but there are people in their lives who would do anything to keep them apart. The during a black-tie event, secrets come out in the open and even Mother Nature threatens to destroy the love between them.
In a ruined city, will the two manage to find each other ... and a lasting relationship?
“It can’t be snowing indoors in California, can it?” Micah asked Don, and then he became aware of a sound that grew louder with each passing second. It was a low rumble, like several trains far away but coming closer and closer. The floor began to shudder violently under their feet. The lights blinked, and the crowd that had been so intent on watching the fight and whispering to one another suddenly became silent. One of the mirrors behind the bar cracked down the center and then shattered. The shaking sent chunks of plaster raining down from the ceiling. Someone in the crowd screamed.
“Earthquake!”
There was a panicked mass exodus for the exits as the room began to collapse around them. Micah found himself pinned by the crowd against a wall. His reaction was to crouch down under a table, but a couple of people were already under there. He thought he saw Don, but there was too much confusion to be sure. He felt pressure on his hand, and he looked to find Trace pulling him along to an unmarked exit.
“This way, Micah.”
“I have to find Don,” Micah said, looking over his shoulder and trying to pull out of Trace’s grip. He saw Don waving at him, and he was sure that he was calling his name, but the sound was lost in the uproar.
Don saw Micah and Trace across the room; he called his name several times and tried to reach him, but they were separated by falling debris, sparking light fixtures crashing down among mobs of people trying to flee the building. A crack appeared in the floor, and he leaped over it, heading toward the place where he had seen Micah and Trace. He just reached the place when someone cried out and pointed above his head. Don looked up to see a section of the ceiling and the wall parting and beginning to sag, and then it fell.
He saw a long table and dove under it just seconds before it was buried under wood, metal, stone and glass. The lights flashed again and then went out.
* * * *
Water dripping from a broken sprinkler pipe and trickling onto his face was what woke Don up. He felt a painful throbbing on his forehead, and he could feel that it was bleeding; otherwise, he had no broken bones, which was a relief. Don crawled from under the table and used a fallen beam to steady himself. The room was smoky, and small fires lit up the darkness. There were voices calling out in panic or for help, but he couldn’t locate them.
“Micah, are you here?” Don shouted, but there was no answer. He called again and received no response. In the light of a fire, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Micah’s number.
All circuits are busy; please try your call again. He tried once more and got a busy signal, and then silence. He put it back in his pocket. He tried to find the exit where he last saw Micah and Trace, which had been only a few feet away. He moved aside some debris, and a bright light blinded him. The emergency light operating on battery power and hanging slightly askew on the wall pointed the way to an open door. He moved toward it and went through. He knew the way since it also led to the outside and he sometimes he let his staff use it as a shortcut from the kitchen to the street after hours.
The dark, smoke-filled passage was punctuated at the other end by two spots from another set of lights. Don held out a hand, using the wall to guide him, and twice he stumbled over unidentified objects and picked himself up. He shouted again.
“Micah, are you there? Can anyone hear me?” Silence, though once he thought he heard a response. When he got close to where he thought it was, it turned out to be a cell phone someone had dropped, and a recording on the other end of the line was playing over and over.
The number you have reached is not in service ... try your call again later. Don stared, amazed that the phone was still operating. He heard footsteps crunching behind him; he turned around slowly and saw a couple making their way toward him.
“Micah?” Don called out hopefully. The pair got closer, and it turned out to be a man and woman.
“The fire is spreading back there.”
Don looked back in the direction they were coming from, and a tongue of flame shot beyond the doorframe. He followed the couple onto the street. He paused, leaning against the building to take several deep breaths of fresh air. He couldn’t see Micah’s face among the dim faces swirling around him. He must still be inside the restaurant. Don stepped over some fallen potted plants to return inside.
A policeman stopped him, blocking his path.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t go in, sir.”
“I have to find my partner.”
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