"You pay him what he wants, have him give you the key, and come back." Cole pauses to take a deep breath. "And tell him we have a dog. If he objects, you ask how much it costs to pretend there is no dog."
I wish I didn’t have to do any of that, but I can tell by the look on Cole’s face that he can’t do it. His face is twisted in pain as fine beads of sweat form at his temples, and his breathing becomes even shallower. He looks awful, but I’m pretty sure he won’t let me take him to a hospital or a doctor. Not to mention that I don’t even know where we are.
I take a deep breath and get out of the pickup.
"Please hurry, darling," Cole says softly, the sound of his voice nearly tearing my heart out.
I close the driver’s door, lift my chin, and walk around the hood of the pickup to head toward the glass-walled, brightly lit room at the end of the long building. When I reach the door, my eyes land on an old, overweight man with barely any hair left. He’s sitting in a chair, smoking and staring at a small TV mounted on the wall to his right.
A discordant ringing sounds above me as I enter, and the man turns his head in my direction.
"Evening," he grumbles, giving me a displeased look.
Lifting my chin higher, I approach the table that stands between us. "Good evening. I… I need a room."
The man scrutinizes me as he takes a drag on his cigarette before he carelessly flicks the ash onto the floor. "You won’t get anything else here, girl." Then he leans forward and looks past me. "Are you with him?"
"Yes," I reply, hoping he doesn’t notice the shaking in my voice.
He narrows his eyes as he continues to look in Cole’s direction before sliding his gaze over me once more, leaning back in his old chair. "One night?"
I nod, my fingers tightening around the bills.
"That’ll be 100 dollars," he grunts, taking another drag of his cigarette.
I quickly glance at the faded sign on the table between us that lists a different price, but decide not to point it out to him. "We have a dog," I say instead.
Shaking his head, he points at another sign with one of his thick, smoke-stained yellow fingers. "No animals."
Straightening my shoulders, I place my hand with the bills on the table so that he sees them. "What does it cost to pretend the dog doesn’t exist?"
His eyes wander to the money. He doesn’t seem surprised, but rather pleased. Almost as if he had been waiting for this. Then he grunts again and turns to the wall behind him, where nearly two dozen keys with oddly shaped tags hang.
"Two hundred. Room 12."
I count the money and put it on the table. He takes it and tosses me the key while he pockets the bills and turns his attention back to the TV.
Relief washes over me as I thank him and turn away to return to Cole. He looks at me with exhausted eyes and pulls one corner of his mouth up slightly as I open the passenger door and handhim the key. Without a word, he slowly turns to get out, the half smile immediately dying again.
"Take the bag from the back seat," he instructs me before walking toward the door with the number12.
Quickly, I slam the passenger door and move to the back. Buster jumps out as soon as I open the door, but stays close to me as if he understands the gravity of the situation. After hoisting the bag of groceries out of the pickup, I shut the door and follow Cole.
When I enter the room, stale, dusty air hits me.
"I’m sorry," Cole mutters. "It’s no Four Seasons, but at least the paths are short."
My throat tightens. Although I don’t know what a Four Seasons is, I can hear in his voice that he’s trying to make a joke. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like laughing right now, so I prop the bag on my hip, close the door behind me, and turn on the light. When the room is bathed in a yellowish, not particularly bright glow, I look around.
It’s only a few feet from the doorway to the bed. Across from the bed is a small table with two chairs, and looking straight ahead, I see a door with the paint peeling off. The curtains on the window behind me are frayed, the floor is dirty and covered with burn holes, and the furniture is so old it has nicks all over it. The room is miserable. Even I can tell though I’ve never seen a motel room before.
"Little darling?" Cole’s voice immediately draws my attention to him, and I hurry to the bed.
He’s lying on his back, still holding his arm, his face distorted in pain.
"What do you need?" I choke out as I’m thrown back to the night he came home covered in bruises and blood. Only now he looks worse.Muchworse.
"Bring me the Jack."
