Chapter
15
The rain turnstorrential almost immediately. The downpour is so heavy, even driving is hazardous. Luckily, our waitress informs us there’s a motel just down the road.
I’m tempted to ask George if he knows what a motel even is, but I decide not to pick at the guy who is my flight home, even if that flight has to happen tomorrow morning. And I really hope it doesn’t get pushed further back than that because I can’t miss my shift at Cornfield’s.
George drives us, five miles under the speed limit with the wipers going at the highest speed. Hopefully we’re not in a flood zone.
The neon-bright sign of the motel appears suddenly through the deluge, and George expertly maneuvers around a few eighteen-wheelers into the surprisingly full lot for such an unappealing-looking place.
At least dingy means it’ll be cheap, I remind myself.
A strip mall across the street has an auto parts shop and a liquorstore. I may need a stiff drink to get through a night in a place like this.
We climb out of the car and sprint for the front office, although I feel like George pauses at the hood to let me maneuver in front of him. Maybe he thinks I’ll get swept away by the rain and he’ll have to explain to Shawn how he lost his sister. But I make it, and as we stand dripping on the yellow tiles in front of the check-in desk, a guy with a lip full of dip tells us we’re lucky.
“One room left for ya.”
No. No, thank you.
Please, no.
“Rest are full. Or the roof’s leaking. Gonna get it fixed next week.” He grins wide, showing off tobacco-stained teeth.
I wonder how many weeks he’s said that.
“You sure there aren’t two?” I ask, my voice shaking from the cold seeping into my soaked clothes. “No one is checking out?”
He lifts a cup to his lips, spits some brown goo into it, then gives me another wide smile. “Got the one room and that couch right there.” He tilts his head toward a plaid monstrosity beside the desk that I’m sure has seen too much of life. “You could keep me company, little lady.”
“We’ll both sleep in the room.” George sets his credit card on the counter and stares the man down.
“If you change your mind,” the motel worker keeps up his pitch while he swipes George’s card through an ancient-looking machine, “I’m here all night.”
George signs a receipt with an aggressive flick of his wrist. “She won’t.” He collects his card and our room key before pressing a hand against my lower back to guide me outside.
There’s no overhang to protect us from the rain, so in the shortstretch it takes us to jog to the room and unlock the door, my shoulders get another dousing.
Once inside I let out a sigh of relief. The place isn’t as bad as it could be.
But it’s also not great.
Worn carpet. Bedspreads on the two doubles that look like they were made before my mom was born. A TV with an antenna. And a general air ofjust go to sleep so you can forget where you are and leave as soon as you wake up.
“I don’t even know what to do,” I murmur, absorbing the physical representation of giving up.
How did my day go from flying with a puppy to this?
“Dry off.” George nods to the bathroom. “Any interest in a beer? I can grab a six-pack from that liquor store across the way if they’re open.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you get is fine.” If he’s paying, then I won’t be picky.
George reaches for the doorknob only to pause and turn hard eyes on me. “Deadbolt the door after I leave.”
“But then you can’t get back in until I let you,” I argue. “You’ll be stuck in the rain.”
George stares at me, waiting.
