by Tessa Thorne
“Room three-thirteen,” he says.
Probably could have gotten the number with just a twenty. But I would have gotten violent with him if he'd pushed it. All it took was a fucking measly hundred to get her room number, and she thinks she’s safe here with her kid. The fuck is she thinking?
I go up the stairs, avoiding the suspicious liquid spilled on the first landing. This place’s best days are long behind it. Half the lights are busted. The flooring is more stains than carpet. The walls are covered in gashes and cracked paint.
On the third floor, I pass a room with what sounds like a hooker overselling her orgasm inside. The people in the one past it are pounding on their walls, yelling at the couple to shut the fuck up.
I find myself staring at room 313. I hesitate for a moment before knocking on the door. I don’t even know what I’m here to say. I can’t kill her husband. Even if she had the money, I haven't been granted permission. Did I come here just to deliver the bad news in person?
It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, so might as well go through with it.
I rap my knuckles on the door and wait. I hear the voice of a kid inside, then nothing but silence. I knock again, louder and longer this time.
“One second,” I hear from inside the door.
Just hearing her voice sends my pulse racing. I see an image of her in my head; Caitlyn bent over my desk, my thick cock working her tight pussy.
Shit.
I can’t be thinking about that right now. That’s not what I came here for. The stirring in my cock claims otherwise. I wait, trying to keep the image of me fucking her out of my head. So instead I think of how her lips tasted, both sets.
Fuck.
I need to get my head out of the gutter. Her kid is here.
I hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. I can tell she’s studying me through the peephole. Probably wondering whether she should be running. I hear the deadbolt clicking open and she slides the door open slightly, the door chain holding it from opening the whole way.
Her head appears through the crack in the door and she casts a suspicious eye on me. Her hair is wet like she just got out of the shower. The way her skin glows, she looks like an angel that got caught out in the rain.
“Why are you here?” she asks, with worry clear in her voice.
I hate to admit it to myself, but it sucks to be greeted like that.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“Why?” she asks, not moving back to let me in.
I look to either side of the hallway. There’s an old guy struggling with the ice machine down one side of the hall, and the sex sounds are getting louder by the second.
“Can’t talk out here,” I say.
“Well, I don’t plan to let you in.” She frowns.
“I didn’t come all the way to this shithole to have you send me away,” I say.
“Who do you think you are? And what the hell do you think you’re doing showing up here unannounced?” she demands, and tries to close the door in my face.
“Look, sweetheart,” I say, holding the door open with my foot. “I found you here in what? One day? No trouble finding your room number either. You got a cop who’s after you, and you think he’s gonna have trouble finding you? What, you think this chain is gonna keep him from busting in here? Get real. I’m trying to help you, but I ain’t talking out here.”
Her eyes go wide with fear as I go on. I don’t like to scare her, but she needs to be real about the shit she’s in. Fuck, if she lives here long enough, she’ll eventually get robbed or raped. She needs to get the fuck out of here.
“How do I know you aren’t here to hurt me?” she asks, her green eyes locked onto mine.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, trying to soften my voice. I’m not good at comforting people. It’s not part of my job description. But I feel bad for her. She’s going through some shit no one should have to go through. The last thing I need to do is tell her I could have smashed my way in through this locked door if I wanted to hurt her.
“My son’s inside,” she says, glancing back inside. “Watch your language and don’t say anything that’ll scare him.”
She steps back from the gap, and I let her close the door to undo the chain. I wait for half a minute in silence until I hear her unhook the chain, and she opens the door to let me in.
She’s dressed in a plush white bathrobe and slippers. A reminder of a better life before she was reduced to this. She gestures to the couch, and I see a little boy’s head covered in light brown hair poking out from around a door as I take a seat.
I wink at the kid and he ducks his head back behind the door as I sit down and sink into the sagging cushions. Something about him reminds me of Pinky when he was a little kid. It’s not his look. They look nothing alike. It’s his expression. That innocent curiosity of a kid who hasn’t learned better.
Caitlyn pulls up a wooden chair from behind a small round table and sits down on it, pressing her knees together beneath her bathrobe.
“I don’t have the money you need,” she says flatly.
I nod, putting my hands on my thighs. “That explains the gun permit.”
“How did you know about that?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.
“It’s not hard to find out if you know the right people.” I shrug. “Your ex knows the right people.”
Her eyes dart to the door, then back to me. “What are you here for?”
“To tell you it’d be a very stupid move for you to try to draw down on him the next time he finds you,” I say. “Brave, but stupid.”
She clenches her jaw in anger. Fuck. She even looks beautiful when she’s mad.
“That’s very helpful.” She laughs bitterly. “I really appreciate you coming by to call me stupid.”
“I came here to make you an offer,” I say.
“What’s that?” she says. “You won’t be getting between my legs again if that’s what you’re after.”
That stings, but that’s not why I'm here. I mean, I’d love to dip my cock in that sweet pussy of hers again and even more, but I’m not going to demand that as a price for my help.
“I’m offering you a way out of this shithole,” I say.
“What did I say about language?” she says before standing up from her chair and yelling toward the door behind the couch. “I told you to stay on the bed, Ethan, until our guest leaves!”
Behind me there’s the sounds of little footsteps and then the bed squeaks under a small weight.
I grin at the scene. It reminds me of when mom would scream at me and Pinky, trying vainly to get us to behave. The two of us were too much for her. But good memories just open the door to a flood of bad memories, and I push them away. No time for that right now.
“Why do you think I need your help getting out of here?” she asks in a low voice as she sits back down.
“Because you’ve been running from hotel to hotel, and Harry finds you every time,” I say. “And it won’t be long before he finds you here. Stalkers rarely break their habit.”
“And how’re you going to help me?” she demands.
Am I really going to do this? This is maybe the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but it’s the only thing I can think of that might work. The only other option is to just leave her to her own fate, and I’m not willing to do that.
“You and your son can stay at my place until you get situated,” I say with a grin.
Her eyes open wide at my suggestion and she works her jaw like she’s chewing over what curse she wants to toss at me.
“And then what?” She leans forward, speaking in an angry whisper. “I’d be your kept whore? For my protection?”
“I don’t pay for sex, in cash or favors,” I say with a wide grin. “Though, if you wanted another ride, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Her blush travels from her chest onto her face until she’s glowing red. I watch her shift on her chair, carefully crossing her legs. She must have b
een thinking nonstop about that fucking I gave her since last night. I know I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and I know she enjoyed it as I much as I did.
“You really are something, you know?” she spits out. “I want you to leave now.”
“You’re being emotional,” I say flatly. “Think about what’s best for Ethan.”
She jumps up from her chair and points her finger at my chest. “Don’t you dare say his name!”
She turns back toward the door suddenly and screams out, “Get back in the bedroom, Ethan!”
“Look, sweetheart,” I say as I stand up. “I know you’re in a bad place now, and it’s hard to think straight. But think over my offer. I’ll take that fifty you have, and offer you my protection from your ex-husband. That comes with no obligation.”
“I told you to get out,” Caitlyn seethes through gritted teeth as she points to the door.
“Here’s my number,” I say, tossing a matchbook from Franky’s on the coffee table. “Ask for Rocco when you change your mind.”
I take one last look at her as I head out. She turns her head and crosses her arms defiantly over her chest.
I close the door behind me and head toward the stairs. She’s not the one who can’t think straight. I’m the one who’s making dumb decisions. What the fuck am I doing offering her a place to stay? And with her kid, too? I can’t have a kid around me. What the fuck am I thinking?
A guy comes stumbling out of one of the motel rooms, and nearly trips into me. I grab him by the collar and slam him back against the wall with my fist drawn back ready to pound his drunken face in.
“Be cool, man! Be cool!” he begs, the smell of cheap whiskey strong on his breath.
I pull my lips back in a grim smile and nearly put my fist through his face. What the fuck am I doing? I don’t need this right now.
I pull him out of my way by the collar and toss him to the floor. “Watch where you’re going, you fucking wino.”
I need to get out of here and blow off some steam. Nobody better have fucked with my ride.
Chapter Six
Caitlyn
I sit in the stands sipping on my ice brew coffee as Ethan’s practice finishes. I signed him up for a competitive baseball league to give him a chance to make some new friends. Plus, it gets him out of that stinking motel. Between this and day camp, I can keep him occupied while I’m at work until school starts up again. And the field is near my office so I can pick him up easily when I’m done.
The coach blows the final whistle, and the kids all head toward the stands like a herd of bulls. I stand up and wave to Ethan, and he runs up and jumps into my arms, wrapping his mitted hand around me.
“Hey baby!” I kiss him on his soft cheek. “Did you miss me?”
He turns his face away from me, looking around at the other kids. “No,” he says with a devilish grin on his face.
“I think you’re just saying that so you can look cool in front of your new friends,” I tease, and kiss him on his other cheek as he tries to wriggle away again.
“Alright,” I say, standing up and taking his equipment bag in one hand, his hand in my other. “Time to go home, Ethan.”
He tugs back on my hand, holding his feet firmly in place. “I don’t want to go home,” he says, his eyes staring at me rebelliously.
“Why not, baby?” I ask, my heart sinking. I already know the answer.
“I want to go back to our real home,” he says, dropping his eyes to the ground.
I drop to my knees in the grass, holding him by the shoulders, trying to meet his eyes. “Baby, I know you miss our old home, but we can’t live there right now.”
He shakes his head defiantly and refuses to look at me. “I don’t like our new home. It’s scary.”
My heart sinks hearing his voice crack as he tries to hold back his tears. “Oh, baby,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it all better soon.”
“I miss my home and I miss my friends,” he says, sniffling as tears roll down his cheeks. “I hate this.”
“I promise you, baby,” I say, my own voice cracking with emotion. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll make this all better.”
I try to believe my own words, but I just can’t. How can I convince my baby it’s all going to be better if I can’t convince myself? I have to do everything I can to fix this.
“Did you like your Indian food, baby?” I ask Ethan as I collect the half-empty takeout containers and stack them in the mini-fridge.
He stays silent, wiping a bit of sauce stuck to his cheek with his sleeve. I cringe, knowing how hard it's going to be to get that stain out later.
I frown down at him. “Are you giving your mommy the silent treatment?”
“No,” he says as he puts the plastic utensils into the half-finished container of chicken curry.
“Then why don’t you answer me?” I ask, picking up his leftovers.
“You said, ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all’,” he says with a cheeky grin.
“You little wise-butt.” I can’t help but laugh. I ruffle his hair as he tries to squirm out from under my hand. “You can tell me if you don’t like it, and I just won’t order from there again.”
“It’s okay,” he says as he straightens his hair. “I just like the Indian place next to our old house better.”
I purse my lips together, and breathe in deep through my nose. I try to keep a happy expression on my face and not show Ethan my frustration. He has every right to be upset at being here, and I have no right getting mad at him for voicing his thoughts.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I say, tossing the dish into the takeout bag and tying it off. No sense keeping this if he doesn’t like it. “I’ll pick up something from near work tomorrow. How does Chinese food sound?”
He looks up at me with his sky-blue eyes. “Can you cook something? I like your food best.”
My heart clenches in my chest, and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. My sweet little Ethan.
“Oh, baby.” I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight against me. “You’re such a sweet little boy.”
He puts his chin on my shoulder and presses his face against mine. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, baby.” I squeeze him again.
A heavy rapping at the door startles us both, and I look toward the door.
“Hold on a second, baby,” I say, standing up. “Let me check the door.”
Another loud set of knocks sends a shudder through my body. The door feels so hollow. Like it could come crashing open with another heavy knock. I wish the waiting period for my gun was over. It’s been four days, but I won’t be able to pick up the gun until tomorrow.
I walk over to the door, careful not to make a sound as I do, and look through the peephole. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach at what I see.
It’s Harry.
He looks so disheveled. Probably stinking drunk. I look around me for something I can use to defend myself, but I don’t have anything. Not even a kitchen knife.
I practically jump out of my skin as he knocks so hard on the door that the walls shake. Ethan’s cowering on the couch, covering his face with his arms. I rush over to him and pick him up in my arms and carry him into the bedroom. I put him on the bed and hold his hands.
“Listen to me carefully, baby,” I say as I hand him my phone. “I want you to crawl under the bed and not make any noise, okay?”
“I’m scared, Mommy.” He whimpers as Harry pounds even louder on the door.
I can easily make out his slurred shouts through the door.
“I know you’re in there, you fucking cunt!” he screams.
“I’m going to talk to your dad and get him to leave,” I say, rubbing Ethan’s arms, trying to calm him down. “I’m going to tell him you’re not here, okay? So, I need you to stay quiet. Do you understand me?”
He nods his head as tears po
ur down his face.
“I won’t let him hurt you, okay? I promise, baby,” I say, as I kiss him on his wet cheek. “If you hear anything other than me and your dad yelling, call nine-one-one, okay?”
He nods vigorously, clutching the phone to his chest. I help him down from the bed and under it. I can barely stand to pull my hand from Ethan’s as he clings tightly to my fingers.
I’m so sorry, baby.
I stuff a couple of bags after him to hide him better while Harry pounds even harder on the door.
“You better open the door, or I’m going to break it down!” he screams. “Don’t think I won’t, you fucking bitch!”
“I’m coming!” I yell over the racket. “I was in the bathroom!”
I unlock the deadbolt without loosening the chain and open the door so I can look through.
“What do you want?” I ask in a low voice, hoping Harry lowers his.
My eyes go wide as he kicks in the door. The chain tears loose from the wall and the door crashes open, smashing into my shoulder and knocking me to the floor. I want to scream at him, but the door knocks the breath out of me.
I clutch at my shoulder, twisting in pain as he looms on top of me, his blue eyes shot through with red. He laughs at me as I struggle to get out from under his shadow. I scream silently as I try to move my sore arm, to crawl back and away from him. It must be dislocated.
“You think you can hide from your husband, you fucking cunt?” he spits out as he grabs me by the hair and yanks me up.
I cry out as my hair pulls from my scalp, and struggle to get on my knees before he tears it all out.
“I should fucking kill you here and now,” he says as he flings me into the couch.
I cry out as my bad shoulder hits the back of the couch and his open palm slaps into my face, making my ear ring.
“Please stop!” I plead with him, trying to block my face with my good arm.
He pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and tosses it at my face. It bounces off my cheek and falls onto the couch.