Pimples looks leery.
“The one nice thing my ex did was buy me a car, but I don’t want it. My friend’s going to pick me up in the morning, but I have no cash right now at all, and this guy left his wallet when he bolted to help me. Could I give you the car I don’t want to pay for the hotel room, and then you can pay for our room out of your pocket? I can write it all on a paper and mail you the title later, but I’ll give you the keys right now.”
“You want to trade that Honda.” He points. “That silver one.”
I nod.
“For one night in this crappy motel?” He tilts his head and arches one eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
I nod.
“What if you don’t send me the title?”
“It’s a risk, even though, I swear I will.” I force what I hope is a sweet smile again. “You’d still have the car, though. Drive it around without the title, or sell it to a chop shop. I don’t care. It’s still worth more than one night here, but I hate that car, and we have no money, so.”
“And if I say no?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll sleep in the car.”
“You can’t stay in the hotel parking lot.” The kid looks nervous.
“That’s fine, we won’t. We can park on the side of the road.”
“So you’re not worried the car’s going to be flagged in a crime or anything?” He frowns.
I almost laugh. He’s halfway smart for a kid, but if I was worried about that, would I tell him? I actually almost feel bad, but he’s either getting a murdered guy’s car, or he’s getting murdered himself. The car’s still the better option, and tomorrow we can head out on horseback again.
“Fine.” The kid looks nervous, but his greed has overcome his fear.
I toss him the keys.
He gives me a keycard and says, “Room 301.”
I proudly exit the tiny lobby and march around the corner, Xolotl following behind me like an emo bodyguard or something, his footsteps loud and heavy. As I open the door to our room, something obvious hits me.
I made no stipulations about the state of the room, and there’s only one bed.
I groan.
“What?” Xolotl pushes past me, his enormous frame barely fitting through the door into the not-very-clean room. His lip curls. “This place is disgusting.”
“That’s the least of our problems. You don’t need to sleep, right?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not mortal. I don’t sleep.”
“Phew.” A wave of exhaustion rolls over me as if on cue. “If you can just spare me a few hours, then we can get back on the road to Reno.”
He nods slowly.
“Since there’s only one bed.” I point. “I’ll sleep on. . .” I spin around, noting that the only other things in the room are a small end table that serves as a nightstand, which barely holds the lamp resting on it, and a small, very uncomfortable-looking bucket chair. I screw up my face, and spit out the words. “I’ll sleep on the floor. But can I have the blanket, or do you get cold?”
His laughter’s surprisingly warm. “I don’t get cold, and since I don’t sleep, why would you sleep on the floor?”
I try to hide my obvious relief. The floor does not look clean at all. “What will you do while I sleep, then?”
“I’m not sure.” He sighs. “This is a first for me, making a deal with my own champion. Usually I’d be planning out the first steps in the orchestration of a war. Or I’d be out killing people to draw the attention of one powerful group or another in order to begin the first parts of a war.” He smirks. “Instead, I’ll be sitting here, watching you sleep, I suppose.”
A shiver runs down my spine, though I’m absolutely sure he didn’t mean it that way, and I don’t want him to mean it like that, either. “Or,” I say.
