Chapter 3
Frank
A sharp knocking broke the silence of the motel courtyard. It was late, well past the hour when normal people went to bed and even the crazies called it a night. For Frank, the night was still young and rife with possibility. He'd left Harley in their room to sit and stew in her attitude so he could tend to a little more business before dawn.
Frank leaned against the door frame and rubbed the back of his head as Paulie continued his relentless knocking.
"John Boy, get your ass out here," Paulie growled before looking to him. "Asshole's probably asleep."
"Nah," Frank said with a chuckle, "he's probably in there yankin' his dick."
He balled up his fist and slammed it against the door. The knocks echoed around them, bringing eyes to a few of the surrounding windows. Frank scanned all those windows and all of the eyes staring at the two of them. He was used to it. Hotels were full of people sticking their noses where they didn't belong, and his group was never one to be quiet and inconspicuous.
As he went to sweep his eyes over a break in the building, where the parking lot let out onto the road and the woods beyond that, he caught a sudden flash in the deep shadows. He might have thought they were headlights in the far distance, except they were too close together and way too small; plus, they came from inside the bushes just across the road. A quick flash of silvery-blue and they were gone before Frank could really get a bead on them. He stared at the spot they’d been seconds before until another assault on John Boy's door turned him back around.
"Open up, Jackass!" he bellowed before the door whipped open.
A sliver of white skin and red fleece peeked from the cracked door, topped with dark eyes and yellow curls. It was one of the girls from Joy Anne's room. She was new, newer even than Harley. Paulie straightened himself up, backing up a step, but Frank just sighed.
"Tell John Boy to get his ass out here already."
"He's asleep," the girl said.
"And? Get him up," Frank countered, the patience leaving his voice.
A hushed voice came from inside.
"He's not feeling well," the girl said, her voice shaking slightly. "Took some sleep meds. Can't wake him up."
Paulie rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but Frank was done playing around. He slammed his hand hard enough against the door that it popped open and bounced against the wall inside. The girl balked and nearly lost the grip on the small blanket she was holding around herself, but she quickly stepped out of the way in time to let Frank pass.
After a bit of a struggle, Frank emerged from the room dragging a pale, stark-naked, man by the foot. John Boy clawed at the sidewalk and patch of grass Frank dragged him over. The gravel bit into the exposed flesh as he slid over it, leaving shallow cuts like tiny lipstick kisses all over his skin. His protesting fell on deaf ears.
"Fucking Christ, Frank," John Boy shouted as he lay prone on the ground.
Frank walked over to his bike and unlocked one of the saddlebags. "Maybe next time you'll be man enough to answer the door yourself. Instead of sending your girl like a little bitch." He grabbed a white cotton t-shirt and pair of jeans from the compartment and threw them on top of John Boy. "Now put that baby dick of yours away. We gotta talk."
Deny the Moon Page 5