Suki is looking down at her like she’s sizing her up. “Yeah,” she says, “yeah, I think I do, actually.” She takes the mic from Cass’s hand and Cass doesn’t fight her. She could hear it in her voice: a kind of self-reflection, a coming to terms with things. Something Cass said had gotten to her, and that was enough for Cass to consider the stage taken.
Suki tosses the mic up to one of her bandmates and they start to play again as if some kind of unspoken instruction has passed between them. “Think you and your idiot friends can come talk to me for a second?” she says over the music.
That sounds, to Cass, like a chance to educate someone. More importantly, it sounds like a way to take her bandmates away from the concert, out of the fun zone and back on track. She nods and signals to the girls to come over.
Suki leads them to a van that has been spray-painted with the words YELLOW FEVER BREAK and a picture of an anime nurse girl hoisting up some guy’s decapitated head. Suki opens the back and takes out a bottle of water, gulping down at least half of it before offering any to the bandmates.
Annoying them did not go the way Cass planned, as both Rev and Shawna are ecstatic to be talking to a woman who has command of a crowd that big and enthusiastic.
“What did you bring us here for, anyway?” Cass asks.
“I wanted to apologize to you somewhere I didn’t have to shout over the music,” Suki says. “You called me out for pitying you. I shouldn’t have done that. You got some guts.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove that I have guts for you not to pity me,” Cass says.
“Touché,” Suki says, nodding. “I’m sorry.” She leans forward a little. “The thing is, I’ve done stuff like this before, and no one’s ever complained until now.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone’s got guts and not everyone’s got a problem with it. We’re not a monolith, you know,” Cass says. “But every time you do it, you’re telling disabled people that they’re only worth the recognition their disability can get them, and you’re telling everyone else that it’s okay to pity them and use them as props to make themselves feel better.”
Suki is nodding. She seems to be taking everything that Cass says to heart.
“I appreciate this,” she says, “I really do. I’m a feminist, you know. At least, I try to be, and feminism ain’t nothing without intersectionality. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t know.”
Cass nods, hating her less and less. “Yeah,” she says.
Cass glances back at her bandmates. She’s about to say something sappy and vulnerable, and she’s hoping that the girls are distracted by something. Alas, they both have their full attention on Suki and Cass.
Cass sighs and braces herself. “Thanks,” she says, refusing to make eye contact with Suki, “for listening. Not a lot of people listen.”
She catches Shawna’s soft smile and Rev’s amused one out of the corner of her eye and turns away from them with an annoyed expression.
“I know how you feel,” Suki says, “but let’s move away from the sappy stuff.” She smirks and Cass almost lets out a chuckle. She clamps down on it before it can happen, though. She has an image to keep up.
“What brings you kids here?” Suki asks.
“Well, we’re supposed,” Cass throws a glare at her bandmates, “to be headed to a gig right now.”
Suki breaks into an enthusiastic smile halfway through a sip of her water. “You guys are a band?” she says.
“Beauty School Dropouts,” Shawna says, her smile bigger than Suki’s and full of pride.
“Oh, my God! I love it!” Suki says. “Where are you headed?”
“Indiana,” Rev says.
“Wow,” Suki says, “that’s a whole state away . . . ”
“Still,” Cass says. “We’ve been driving for almost a day, and we’re already behind schedule.”
“Well, what the heck are you still doin’ here then?” Suki says.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say! But Dumb and Dumber here won’t listen to me! Not to mention this one,” she says as she pinches Rev’s hand, “forgot her guitar at home!”
Rev rubs her hand, glaring at Cass, then smacks her shoulder.
Shawna gets between them. “It was an honest mistake,” she says.
Cass is about to retort when Suki chimes in. “Well, if you need a guitar, I’ve got a spare.”
The three bandmates turn to stare at her with wide eyes.
“Are you kidding?” Cass asks.
“It’s right in the van, here,” Suki says. “I can get it out now.” She clambers into the back. After a few bumps and thumps, she returns with a guitar. An electric guitar, red with black flames licking at the sides and as shiny as if it were new. She hands it to Rev; Cass and Shawna’s eyes remain fixed on it.
“I . . . ” Rev begins, but is not sure where to go. She holds it as if someone has just handed her their child, no idea what to do and afraid she might break it. “I . . . we can’t accept this.”
“Um, yes we can,” Cass says.
“Weren’t you just talking about not wanting people to give you things out of pity?” Rev says.
“There’s a difference between pity and generosity,” Cass says. She has become very attuned to that difference over the years.
“Yeah,” Suki says, “we all gotta look out for each other, right? If we don’t, no one will.”
Shawna bounces forward to shake Suki’s hand. “Thank you!” she says. “Thank you, so much! You have no idea how much this means to us!”
“It’s not a problem, really,” Suki says. “This your first gig?”
All three of the bandmates nod.
“Yeah, I remember back when I was in your boat. Excited but nervous as hell.” Suki chuckles. “You three go out there and you knock ’em dead! Me ’n’ the Yellow Fever Breaks are rooting for you over here!” She holds up her hand and high fives all three of them, then shoos them away. “You got a gig to get to! Go on! Get!”
THE BANDMATES CONTINUE TO DRIVE FOR A FEW more hours, Rev getting a feel for her new guitar between sleeping in shifts.
As Shawna takes the wheel for her turn to drive, she finds that she can’t fully focus on the road. “Um, guys? I’m starting to think that we may need some actual sleep,” she says.
“What are you, a baby?” Cass asks, though the effect is ruined by a yawn in the middle of her sentence.
“If we keep trying to drive like this, one of us is going to fall asleep at the wheel or something and we’re going to crash and die,” Shawna says.
“I vote for not crashing and dying,” Rev says, fully awake now, not that Shawna believes she’ll stay that way long enough to drive.
“Fine,” Cass says, trying to clamp down on another yawn. “We’ll find some cheap roach motel and catch a few hours.”
Within the next twenty minutes, they find one just off the side of the highway. It’s a name they don’t recognize, partially because most of the letters are unlit or busted. Shawna pulls into what she assumes is a parking space, gravel crunching under the tires, and hops out to crunch the gravel under her feet and talk to the front desk.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t keep driving? Find another one?” Rev says, looking around. “This place seems really sketchy.”
“Baby,” Cass says.
“You already used that insult,” Rev says without her usual enthusiasm. She hasn’t stopped looking around.
“Screw you, I’m tired,” Cass says, resting her head against the window.
“It’ll be fine,” Shawna says to both of them, cutting into whatever argument they’re about to have.
Rev hugs herself and whimpers.
“Really. It’ll only be for a few hours. Just some sleep, and then we’re gone.” If Shawna’s being honest, she’s a little nervous about this place herself. “Roach motel” was right. This place is a dump! The parking spots aren’t marked and almost all the paint is peeling.
She walks up to the desk, where a girl about her
age with bushy brown hair that comes down to her chin and light brown skin is leaning against the counter, reading a book and looking bored.
“Excuse me,” Shawna says.
The girl looks up. Her eyes widen a bit. She places a bookmark in her book, closes it, and shoves it away without breaking eye contact with Shawna. “Need a room?” she asks with a smile.
“Yeah, just for the night.”
“Aw. Not staying longer?”
“No, actually. We have to get back on the road in a couple of hours.”
“We?”
“Yeah, me and my two friends.”
“Well, we might have something.” The girl lugs out a large, ancient-looking registry book and spends a few minutes scanning the pages.
Shawna glances back at the parking lot. The van is the only car there. She turns to look at the wall of keys hanging behind the door. Every single nail has a key on it. There is obviously no one else in this motel, so what’s the delay?
“Your, uh, parents or employers make you look through that big book every time?” Shawna asks in an attempt to lighten her unease.
The girl looks back up at her, her finger halfway through scanning a line. “What are you talking about?” she asks.
“I mean, like, you know . . . no one else is here?” Shawna says.
“Well, obviously,” the girl says. She goes back to scanning the book.
Shawna taps the desk with her fingers a few times. “So, then, your employers make you do it,” she says.
“I don’t have any employers,” the girl says. She pauses. “Well, I suppose you could say that I’m self-employed, in which case, yes. My employers make me do it.” She goes back to scanning.
There is no way she is self-employed. That would mean that she owns the building, and she can’t own the building. She’s Shawna’s age.
Isn’t she?
“How old are you?” Shawna asks.
“Fifteen,” the girl says.
She’s younger than Shawna’s age! There is no way that this is legal. Maybe she’s lying. Maybe Rev was right and this place is too sketchy to stay in.
“Room Ten,” the girl says, breaking into Shawna’s thought process. She turns the book around and hands a pen to her. Shawna hesitates, but takes it and signs the register. After all, what she and her bandmates are doing isn’t exactly the most parentally supervised thing. Who is she to judge this girl?
She hands Shawna a room key. “Enjoy your stay!” she says. “If you need anything, my name is Cici and I’ll be here all night.” She wiggles her fingers at Shawna as she heads back to the van.
“You get us a room?” Cass asks when she returns.
“Yeah, it’s . . . ” She looks around at the doors, and finds that they just happen to be parked in front of the room numbered ten. Or, it would be ten, except the zero has rusted off, leaving nothing but an imprint of what was once there. “ . . . it’s this one.”
“Oh, cool, less wheeling through flippin’ gravel,” Cass says.
“How much did it cost?” Rev asks, not leaving the van.
Shawna pauses. “She . . . didn’t say,” she says. Rev stops halfway through closing the door. She and Shawna stare at one another for a moment.
“Maybe she’ll tell us when we check out?” Shawna says.
“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Cass says. “Now, could you help me out? I can’t reach my chair from here.”
Shawna gets it from the back and unfolds it, helping Cass down from the passenger’s seat. Rev hasn’t made a move.
“Come on,” Cass says, “I’m tired.”
Rev shakes her head, hugging herself.
Shawna reaches in and takes her arm, trying to pull her out. “It’s going to be okay,” she says.
Rev shakes her head more furiously this time, fighting Shawna’s pull, trembling.
“Rev, you’re being ridiculous,” Shawna says, pulling harder.
“Just let her sleep in the van,” Cass says with a yawn.
“No. We’re going into the room. We need beds. We need decent sleep. It’s fine.” Shawna finally pulls Rev out of the van, both of them stumbling. Rev is looking around like a cornered animal, now holding Shawna’s arm in a death grip. Shawna wraps her other arm around her and walks her forward. Cass grunts and forces her wheels through the gravel.
When they enter their room, Shawna tells herself that it could have been much worse. The two beds have sheets, at least, though she’s not willing to smell them to make sure that they’re clean. There are no visible cockroaches hanging around the room, which is a plus, but a sour scent hangs in the air, smelling almost as sickly green as the walls. The TV’s screen is shattered, but they weren’t planning on watching whatever four channels this motel gets, anyway.
“You see?” Shawna says. “Fine.” She tries to flick the lights on. They don’t work.
Rev whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut.
“We just . . . ” Shawna says, “ . . . need to get to bed. It’ll be better in the morning.”
“Works for me,” Cass says, wheeling forward. She lifts herself onto one of the beds.
“How are they?” Shawna asks.
“Uncomfortable,” Cass says and falls asleep.
Shawna leads Rev to the other bed and climbs into it, not daring to pull the covers back, and cuddles up next to her. The sheets smell just as sour as she’d feared, and Shawna has the worst feeling that they haven’t been washed in years.
She supposes that this is what happens when a fifteen-year-old is left to run an entire motel by herself, but she stops herself from judging the girl again. It’s a bed to lie in. A non-moving, non-bumpy bed.
“I really don’t like it here,” Rev finally mutters, tightening her grip on Shawna.
“Shh. It’s only for a few hours,” Shawna says. “Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll be back on the road before you know it.”
Rev whimpers a little more and curls into Shawna, but she’s soon asleep, too.
Shawna is left awake. Something—be it the smell or the lack of electricity or the general creepiness of the place—will not let her sleep. When she’s sure that Rev is asleep, she stands up and starts pacing, trying to figure out what isn’t letting her relax. It takes almost an hour, but she finally narrows it down.
It’s the girl at the desk, the supposed owner of this place, Cici. There’s something that just isn’t right about her. Something about the way she looked at Shawna, something about the way she said and did things refuses to sit right with her.
She glances down at her bandmates, sleeping in the darkness, making sure that they’re alright before stepping into the cool summer night. She heads towards the front desk. The lights in the room are off, so she hesitates before trying the door. It’s open. Cici had said that she would be there all night. She sees the book that Cici was reading earlier and can’t make out the title in the darkness. It looks old, though. Not as old as the register, but still old. The small amount of light from the windows catches on a little bell, just off to the side. Shawna hovers her hand over it, then rings it.
Cici pops up from behind the desk. “Wha? Huh? Whossat?” she says, looking around wildly. Her hair is a bushy mess and her eyes are only half open. Shawna leans back to avoid the possibility of getting hit.
“Um, I was here earlier? You said to come talk to you if I needed anything?” she says.
Cici squints in the darkness and clicks on the desk lamp. “Oh! It’s you,” she says, her expression morphing into a smile. “Shawna, right?”
“Yeah, how did you—?”
“You signed the register.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Shawna raises her head a little to glance behind the desk and catches a glimpse of a pillow and blanket. “Were you sleeping back there?” she asks, pointing at them.
“What can I do for you?” Cici asks, talking over the end of Shawna’s sentence.
“Oh, um, the electricity in our room isn’t working,” she says, electing to ignore
the makeshift bed behind the desk.
“Sucks,” Cici says with a chuckle.
Shawna pauses, unsure what to do with that. “So . . . can you fix it? Or something?” she asks.
Cici rests her elbow on the desk and her head on her hand and smiles up at Shawna. “Girl, there hasn’t been electricity in this building since I started living here,” she says.
Living here? That seems an odd way to put it.
“What about that?” Shawna points at the little lamp.
“Batteries,” Cici says. She clicks it on and off a few times as Shawna watches.
On and off.
There’s really something not right about all this.
On and off.
Shouldn’t she be more worried about the fact that there’s no electricity? Especially since she claims that she owns the place.
On and off.
Well, she never really did claim that, did she?
On.
“You don’t own this motel, do you? You don’t even work here.”
“Well, obviously,” Cici says. She smiles as if she’s proud that Shawna’s finally figured it out.
Shawna feels a mixture of fear and embarrassment swirl around in the pit of her stomach. How could she not have realized? It was obvious from the moment they pulled onto the gravel. She takes a step back from the desk.
“Then why did you . . . ? What was with all the . . . ?” She gestures to the desk with both hands, implying the whole show she’d put on earlier.
Cici shrugs. “I think you’re cute. Wanted to help you out,” she says.
Shawna pauses, her brow furrowing. “Huh?”
“It’s a pretty good place to crash. Wanted to share that with you. Plus, if you pulled up to the motel with a clearly broken sign and decided to ignore the fact that there’s a fifteen-year-old ‘owner,’ I figured you and your friends must be desperate.”
Shawna wasn’t sure if “desperate” was the word she’d use. This was simply the first motel they came across and they were all very tired. Shawna was still tired, but Rev was right. This place is sketchy beyond sketchy. Shawna considers just rousing her friends and getting the hell out of here, but thinks twice about it. Rev was nervous all day. She needs some decent rest, and she was never going to be able to wake Cass until Cass wanted to be woken.
Rocky Road Page 5