by Jordan Marie
“Cookies?”
“Yeah, it takes work to keep this extra thirty pounds on,” she says, her face going hard.
Message delivered.
She’s pissed and she has a right. Maybe I should have apologized, but I refuse. She turns to leave and for some reason the child nearly bends in half to hug its body around her.
“Daddy eat wit’ me!” he cries and the shell-shocked look on the woman’s face probably mirrors my own.
“Oh hell. Is this your game?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You train your kid to call men Daddy hoping one of them finds it cute and falls into your web?”
“My web?” she gasps.
“I got news for you, lady. I don’t want kids. Never have. I sure as hell don’t want your spawn from—”
I stop mid-sentence and I’m caught off guard when she delivers a hard slap to the side of my face. The kid for once seems speechless. I bring my hand up to the still-stinging jaw and rub it, while watching her. Her brown eyes are bright, not from tears this time—but, sparks of anger. Her body is almost vibrating with it.
“My child is just that, mine. He is not anything your vile mouth started to say. I may need your money, Mr. Smith, but let’s get this straight.”
“I—”
“I will be cold and buried and see you in Hell before I let you say one thing about my son. Now, since my motel is not open yet, and since I made sure you had fresh towels for the day—”
“I—”
I’m trying to say something but she doesn’t let me get it out. Each time she shuts me down. The look of fury on her face is something new to me. I’ve seen women mad before, hell Gloria cornered the market on it. It was usually because I refused to take her to some new red carpet event, or buy her the latest million-dollar trinket she found. Getting mad was her go to, especially when she found out pouting didn’t work. I’m used to women who are like that. This feels different, but I’m sure she’s working some kind of angle too. Women always do.
“Our business is done for now. I’ll be on duty later, or I’ll have someone covering the front desk,” she growls and she walks away. Her son…Jack, looks over his mother’s shoulders with large brown eyes much like hers. I could almost feel guilty…
Almost.
5
Hope
“My sheets haven’t been changed.”
“I just changed them while you were out.”
“You did?” he asks, clearly not believing me. I swear if I could afford it, I would give this guy his money back and tell him to get the fuck out.
Being broke sucks.
“I did,” I sigh.
“They look dirty.”
“They’re not,” I answer, plastering on a smile.
“Well I want them changed again. I’m going to go enjoy the pool. Please tell me you at least have it ready?”
“Afraid not.”
“What’s wrong with it? I saw water in it!”
I study his face. He could be sexy. He’s got this bedroom eyes kind of thing going on. He’s got dark black hair with just enough gray to make him look distinguished and appealing. He’s got a scruffy beard and the gray showing in it could make a woman heat up in all the right spots. He’s got a well chiseled body and you can see Celtic designs in dark ink showing through his t-shirt. I was always a sucker for a man with ink. Jack’s father had all kinds. Too bad I didn’t pay attention to something besides his ink—like his personality.
Aden’s personality glows like a bare ass in the bright sunshine—which is fitting since he is an asshole.
“Are you even listening?” he huffs.
“The pool is closed until it filters.”
“It filters?”
“It will be ready tomorrow,” I explain, leaving out the part where I haven’t been able to afford the sand or repairs to the filter housing until he paid me. I doubt this idiot has ever hurt for money in his life.
“Unbelievable,” he growls stomping off.
“Daddy,” my son whispers after the door slams.
“That’s definitely not your daddy, Jack. Though to be honest your dad wasn’t any better. The sad fact is, little man, your Mommy has stinky taste in men.”
“Stinky butts!”
I laugh, before answering, “Definitely stinky butts.”
“Mommy p’way?” he asks holding out his favorite butterfly squeak toy and a block. He likes to build a fort around the butterfly to make it a home. He’s grinning at me. Like this he looks so sweet and innocent, you wouldn’t believe he is the same little terror who painted my kitchen with chocolate—like it was finger paint.
Maybe the sad fact is that all men were once cute little bundles that owned their mother’s hearts, but they grow into giant jerk-faces. I need to find out how that evolves and stop it from happening to Jack.
With a sigh I slide down to the floor, on the blanket that Jack’s been playing on and play blocks with him. When we knock down the house on top of the butterfly, I have to admit I’m imagining the butterfly is Aden Smith and I’m not even sorry when the blocks cover him up and squish him. In my head the small wooden blocks are heavy concrete ones.
6
Aden
“I can’t believe you’re fighting with her again. I know you’ve been burned pretty bad by women and life in general Aden, but really you’re turning into a real ass,” Casey grumbles.
“You don’t know her! I swear, she just hates all men. You know the type.”
“No. Why don’t you tell me the type?” Casey says and something in her tone alerts me that I’m treading on land a male shouldn’t travel around a woman.
“Whatever. Did Gavin make sure to pick up my mail and things.”
“He did, though I’m still not sure why you didn’t have your agent handle all your mail and things.”
“Mostly because Reggie is supposed to be busy keeping the press away from me and handling the official details.”
“He’s doing a bang-up job of that. You’re only on the news three times a night now.”
“I wouldn’t know. This damn motel doesn’t even have a television in the room.”
“No TV? God that sounds like heaven.”
“You only say that because you don’t watch it.”
“I wouldn’t, except Gavin is hooked on that damn show where they go through other people’s trash.”
“Trash?”
“Yeah, you know old barns and things and they find all this crap…”
“American Pickers?”
“That’s the one. God, I hate that show and really the main dude on there, his voice is just grating.”
“That’s a great show, Casey and that’s not crap. It’s called antiques and they’re very valuable.”
“Really? Have you ever seen them get what they say they’re going to?”
“Umm...I’m sure they do.”
“I’m just as sure they don’t. Maybe one item out of a million. It’s the other nine-hundred and ninety-nine thousand that they don’t show you.”
“You’re very jaded,” I laugh.
“Aden, the fact that you are calling me that, scares the hell out of me,” she jokes.
“Whatever.”
“What are you doing anyway? Because I know you’re not writing—like you are supposed to be doing.”
“I can’t write. There’s no concentrating in this damn place.”
“So get out and find another place to write. No one said you had to write in a motel. Go out by the pool—”
“The pool is broken.”
“How does a pool break?”
“Apparently it can.”
“Okay fine, how about a diner or something? There will be people coming in and out and you can use them as inspiration.”
“The only diner is closed at the moment.”
“The only diner?”
“Exactly.”
“How are you eating?”
“Today was
a tuna salad sandwich out of a gas station fridge. Tonight I think I’ll go crazy and have the egg salad one.”
“Yikes.”
“I might even splurge for chips too.”
“I’m ignoring you because I think you’re making it sound worse than it really is.”
“You would think that, but trust me when I tell you it’s so much worse than I’m making it sound. I’m thinking of killing White when I get back.”
“Whatever. You’re supposed to be working. So suck it up and get to writing.”
“What happens if I can’t write? Sure, I’ve always wanted to and I have ideas, but that doesn’t always mean it will translate.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t try, now will you?”
“Casey—”
“Never figured the great Aden McIntyre as a quitter.”
“Fine, I’ll go back to the Bates Motel and write.”
“There you go! That’s the spirit! Maybe you can write a murder mystery.”
“I’d be afraid to. In fact, if I turn up missing, investigate the motel owner. I’m sure she will be the one behind it.”
“The motel owner? Don’t you even know her name.”
“Not really,” I yawn. It’s starting to get dark sooner. The sun is already setting above me. I completely lied to Casey. I’m not going back to the motel to write. I’m going back there to sleep.
“It’s Hope.”
“What is?”
“Her name, silly. Don’t you remember White talking about her?”
“Not so much. It wasn’t important.”
“No wonder she’s so enamored with you. I’ve got to go. Gavin is getting ready to jump off a building.”
“Sounds like fun,” I tell her, not meaning it. Nothing sounds like fun these days. Honestly about the only time I find myself having fun is when I’m snoring and dreaming of Gloria and Burton finally getting what they deserve. The only solace I have is that the movie with all three of us bombed so horribly, the studio pulled out of the next movie involving the two of them. As far as karmic retribution goes it’s small—but at least it’s something.
“Check in tomorrow,” Casey says
“I’ll try. I have a busy schedule here. I’m going to try watching paint dry—that’s if I can find a store that sells paint.”
“Just be careful and don’t sniff it. With your sparkling personality the last thing you need is paint fumes getting to your brain cells.”
“Bye, Casey.” I growl, thinking Gavin definitely has his hands full.
“Bye, Aden,” the little witch laughs, hanging up.
I look out at the small park I’ve been sitting in for hours. I guess I might as well go back and try to write. Casey’s right. I’m not a quitter. I can do this…. if not I’ll sleep.
Hopefully that woman at least changed the sheets on my bed.
7
Hope
“Are you sure you’re okay, Hope?” Daria asks for the hundredth time. She’s the only real friend I have in this little town. She’s a couple of years older than me, single and she’s saved my ass several times. She also loves Jack and he seems to love her. She watches him when I need her to and without her I’d be lost—especially on days like today. I got so upset after Aden left, I shouldn’t have—but I did.
He annoys me, but I haven’t been able to shake the hateful words he said about me on the phone the other night. Which is stupid. I don’t know him and his opinion of me matters not one damn bit. Still, I keep hearing the remarks and the hateful tone in his voice and every time I’m forced to interact with him, I get upset. I also decided to try and save a few dollars and do everything on the pool myself. Normally that would have been okay, but the pollen count is crazy today and being an asthmatic…
It all boils down to the fact that I’m in bad shape. So bad that I called Daria to ask if she would keep Jack tonight. I had to take my asthma medication which makes me extremely hyper and alert for all of two hours, and after that wears off… I crash. I don’t just crash a little, I crash a lot. A herd of elephants would probably not wake me up and it’s one reason I resisted taking the medicine as long as I did—which made the attack worse.
“Yeah. I’m just really tired. After all the medicine and the breathing treatments I crash hard. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep it off.”
“If you’re sure. Maybe you should come over and stay at the house tonight…” she says, doubtfully.
“You’re a doll to offer,” I reply, though the last word is more of a yawn than an actual word. “But I have a guest in the motel, I can’t leave.”
“I thought you weren’t opening for like another week or so?” She asks, throwing Jack’s overnight bag onto her backseat and slamming her car door.
“I wasn’t, but this guy offered cash up front and I needed the money, to get everything ready for my real opening.”
“The place is looking great,” she says, offering me a smile.
“Yeah, but I can’t help but wonder if I will get any business. Not many people want to stay in Clancy, Idaho.”
“Well maybe not, but you’re right off the interstate so that might help?”
If I didn’t hear the doubt in her voice, that might make me feel better. Instead, I don’t respond and turn my attention back to my son.
“You be good for Aunt Dar and when you get home tomorrow we’ll go for ice cream,” I bribe him, doing my best to bite back another yawn before it can escape. I hug him and his little fingers tangle in my hair as he gives me a wet, sloppy kiss that instantly soothes my heart as only Jack can.
“Go get in bed, you look like you’re about to fall over on your feet.”
“I think one of the new medicines the doctor gave me is making me sleepier than usual,” I tell her yawning again because I can’t stop it. “I may have to talk to him about changing it back, or to something….” I stop to yawn yet again. “Damn it!” I growl, frustrated.
“Mommy said bad word!” Jack giggles. My baby is so smart. He’s starting to put together whole sentences. I don’t know if that’s normal for other two year olds, but I’m very proud of him. Now if I could just get him to pee in the toilet and not outside.
“Mommy is—”
“A stinky-butt!” Jack fills in before I can finish and I laugh along with Daria.
It takes a few minutes to click him into his seat and make sure Daria has it secured properly in her car. I give her a quick hug and watch as she heads back out of the parking lot. My eyes are getting really heavy and I’m yawning so much that my eyes are watering. I really just want to go crawl in bed and start over tomorrow. I start to do exactly that and I remember my guest from Hell. Who knew a man who looked that good could be that rotten on the inside?
My eyes zero in on room number seven. It’s getting dark and the street lamp seems to glow directly on it. I sigh in frustration. As much as I want to sleep off this damn medicine if I don’t change the asshole’s sheets I’ll never hear the end of it.
Accepting the inevitable, I trudge into the office, go directly to the supply closet and pull out another set of sheets. For a moment I think of just lying and saying I changed them if he asks me again, but lying is not something I do well. I always panic and screw it all up.
With each step I get sleepier and sleepier. My eyes keep trying to close and I have to force them back open. It’s not that I’m not coherent, I am. I just feel like I could sleep for days.
I use my pass key to get inside the room. Instantly, I smell Aden’s aftershave. It’s a good scent. It reminds me of winter days in Indiana, cool, crisp and outdoorsy. I shake off the thought and carry the sheets to the bed. The side effect of this new medicine said it would cause drowsiness, I probably should have paid closer attention to that.
I strip the bed and that’s a job, because I have the strongest urge to crawl on the bed and just nap. I ignore that impulse, then start putting the bottom sheet on. I get the bottom corners tucked and the corner at the top closest to me.
The other corner is against the wall. I try moving the bed out, but I can’t get it to budge. Finally, I stretch out over it, extending my arms out over my head to try and force the corner in. I huff out in frustration and wiggle trying to get enough slack in the sheet. I know I pulled out the queen size, but maybe it shrunk in the wash. Finally, the sheet goes in place and I just lay there in victory. My eyes fall closed and I jerk them open.
Would it be so bad to take a quick break?
I can nap and be gone before Aden gets back…
8
Aden
It’s been years since I’ve been drunk. Fucking years. I’d never admit it to others, but I’m too much of a control freak to enjoy getting drunk these days. I like being alert and clear headed when I face the shit life throws my way. Tonight after hanging up the phone with Casey, I needed a break. I drove around the small town of Clancy and found the one thing they have that I had been missing. A bar. A bottle of Jack later and here I am, crawling out of a damn Uber cab and dragging my ass into the motel. My head is swimming and my vision blurred. I should have quit drinking long before the bottle was drained. I’m lucky I can still stand. Drinking, barely eating today and years without drinking much alcohol at all—have all combined to knock me on my ass.
I stumble into the bathroom, not bothering to turn a light on. There’s a little light from the outside streetlight shining in and I let that guide me. I start pulling my clothes off, frowning because for some reason the room smells like…vanilla. I hadn’t noticed that smell before, maybe the owner used an air freshener or something when she cleaned. I like it. It kind of makes me hungry. I’ll have to tell her to keep using it… not that she listens to much I ask for.
Once I’m naked, I splash water on my face. It does very little to help clear my head, but I’m finding I don’t care. I’m relaxed and feeling warm and for the first time in months and months I’m not worrying about contracts, lawyers or Gloria’s antics. It’s rather freeing. I lean against the wall, letting it hold me up. My hand moves to my cock. It’s semi-hard maybe because I’m relaxed for the first time in forever, or maybe it’s just been a fucking long time since I’ve grabbed a piece of ass. Whatever the reason, whiskey dick is not the problem. I stroke him, squeezing tightly, eyes closing as I let myself feel the heat invading my body. What I wouldn’t give for a hot, slick pussy to plunge inside of, squeezing my cock…