by Dan Dillard
Chapter 5
The coffee was strong, but the combination of warmth and the drone of tires on pavement made him sleepy. Before long, he was dreaming again of the scene by the stream. Another morning, noon and evening of watching the woman care for the baby, watching through eyes that felt as natural as his own. Then the scream of the giant vehicle's air brakes interrupted the serene setting and drug him back to reality-to the Midwest.
Blinking eyes and yawns stared out the bus windows. Some smiled at a return home, others at another leg of a long trip down, and others still looked on in confusion at a new destination. Jason's face held no specific look. He stood, stretched and then grabbed his bag before exiting, stopping briefly to say goodbye to the sickly woman who was kind to him.
"Are you getting off here?" she said.
"Yep. My stop."
"You take care, then."
He smiled and patted her gently on the shoulder, catching another whiff of her rot. It turned his stomach, but he held his smile for her benefit. "You too. I hope you get home safe and soon."
The door shut behind him and he handed his ticket to the gruff driver who opened a luggage compartment and grabbed his bag.
"You know a good place to eat around here?" Jason asked.
The slightly round, balding man shoved the bag into Jason's chest and wiped his brow with his forearm. Then he squinted his eyes and pointed.
"Down that way about a block. There's a lotta restaurants, it's a college town. A couple hotels too, if you need a place to stay."
"Thanks," Jason said.
The bus pulled away before he could get his bag situated to carry. He paid it no mind. He sniffed the air and followed the scent of food. The air smelled quite different than it had in Texas. Cleaner, somehow. He was glad to be there and walked with a lift in his step. Small town folks walked from shop to shop. Cars stuttered at the littering of lights and stop signs.
"Well, Jason," he said to himself, "let's put this crap down first, then find a place to eat."
Scents and sounds distracted him as he walked, but it wasn't long before he stood in front of a Hilton Garden Inn. A sign out front welcomed guests to a business seminar on one side, members of an alumni reunion on the other. He pushed through the glass door to find the lobby empty.
"Hey! Can I help you with something?" a young woman said. She looked all of nineteen and wore an Indiana University sweatshirt. She was attractive, but not showy, with no makeup on her youthful face. A clip on name tag read BECCA. She pulled off some trendy glasses and adjusted her long blonde ponytail. As he approached the desk, she folded a text book closed and set it atop a stack of notes. Then she stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time.
"I need a room. But I also need an apartment. Better yet, a cheap rental house. Know any?" he said.
"Maybe. What are you into?"
The question caught him by surprise.
"Huh?"
"What do you do? Work? Fun?" she said.
Her fingers clacked across the keyboard with fluid grace.
"I just got here. I need a job, and some fun too I guess," he said.
The printer spit out a couple of forms and she shoved one across the counter with a ball point pen as she frowned, "You'll fit right in. There's plenty of apartments here, just stay away from the campus, too expensive. Got a credit card?" Becca said.
"Good tip, thanks. Cash."
"I still need a credit card for incidentals and a damage deposit. You know, in case you rack up a long distance phone bill or empty the minibar. Don't worry, we just take an imprint. I won't charge anything to it, unless I find something I like on Amazon."
Jason chuckled and dug out his wallet. Becca didn't even smirk. He pulled out a plastic card and handed it to her.
"What about a job?" he said.
"Well, I don't think the hotel is hiring if that's what you mean."
"No. Well maybe. I guess I'd take about anything to keep me busy," he said while signing the room contract.
She twisted her mouth as she thought. "I'm not exactly Craig's List. What did you do where you came from-where did you come from?"
"Texas."
"Really." It wasn't a question. She just said really.
"I worked in retail," he said.
"Yuck. I'd have left too," she said.
"How about you-where you from?"
"Indiana. About an hour north of here. That's the problem with Indiana."
Jason squinted. "Problem?"
"Yeah. Everybody in Indiana's from freaking Indiana. Nice to meet someone who wasn't born in a cornfield. I don't even know what a Hoosier is."
He laughed out loud. "I'll take that as a compliment, I guess."
He liked her, she reminded him of him. A little sister he might have had, perhaps.
Becca leaned to look over the counter and to her left. A wooden rack filled with colorful cards stood on the red paisley carpet. There with magazines and newspapers on it as well.
"Might be some recent classifieds there, or an apartment finder. You can check the internet in the business center."
Jason followed her pointing finger as it darted around. While he looked through the rack full of brochures and local interests, Becca tossed his key on the counter.
"Room 312. Call down if you need anything,"
He found a local newspaper and another classified ad magazine and stashed them under his arm. Then he picked up the keycard in its little sleeve. "Thanks," he said.
She opened her text book to get back to her studies but watched him leave. He didn't have to turn back to know she was watching. All women did. It was something about the inner animal that intrigued them, but the attraction never lasted. He was strong but not bulging and he was not classically handsome, but average. Brown hair, blue eyes, just under six feet tall-spectacular camouflage for the creature he carried within.
The elevator carried him to his room where he scanned the paper for jobs and apartments. Several construction crews were looking for general laborers. It would do for starters. He circled one and laid the paper by the phone.
"First thing in the morning," he said.
Inside the desk drawer, he found a "Welcome" guide provided by the hotel. There was a map of the town on the first page.
"Campus is practically the whole town," he said tapping his fingers on the paper. "How do you avoid that?"
Jason glanced through the phone book for apartments and real estate agents who listed rentals and scribbled a few on the courtesy stationery. With several places on his list, he decided he was more tired than hungry and turned the light out to lie down.
First, he saw White. She stood proud, her light coat glistening from a splash in the rivulet as it flowed through the woods. She followed Gray as he made his way along the stream to the place where the humans were. At the edge of the wood, Gray turned to face her and snarled, warning her to stop.
She snorted at him and bared her own teeth. It was merely a show for his benefit, to let him know he couldn't push her about, but she turned back anyway, obedient, if not perturbed.
A piercing scream from the human woman startled him awake. And he sat up in the hotel bed sweating. Her dreamlike shriek matched the alarm clock. Jason groaned and rolled over. It was 6:00 AM and time to pound some pavement. To his surprise, he was actually excited about it.
He showered and dressed in a matter of minutes, then grabbed his notes and his newspaper and stuffed the keycard in his back pocket. Skipping the elevator, he bounced down the steps with the enthusiasm and energy of a new puppy. In the lobby, there were doughnuts and coffee. He passed on the first but poured a cup of the last and headed for the front exit.
"Good morning," he said. Becca was still there, finishing her night shift.
"Yep. One class and then it's off to bed," she said. Her sarcastic wit was gone, replaced by yawning.
"Just one?" he said.
"I'm a perpetual senior. I only have two classes this semester."
"Ah, well be
tter get some coffee."
She held up a travel mug, steaming with a fresh refill, and pretended to cheers his cup.
"Good luck to you, too. Will you be back here tonight?"
"Unless I find an apartment today."
He pushed open the glass door to leave, but was interrupted, "Sir?"
He turned to Becca as she was stuffing her things into a backpack. She stood in front of the counter now.
He smiled. "You can call me Jason. Actually, please, call me Jason." He walked to her and stuck his hand out so she could shake it.
"I'm Rebecca. Becca to the lucky ones."
She shook his hand. Her hair looked somewhat frizzy and her brilliant eyes drooped a bit from the night shift, but she was still adorable.
"It's good to meet you, Becca. If I might be so lucky."
"For now," she said in her deadpan manner. "Well, if you're back tonight, maybe I can help you find a place and a job. On again at seven. Joy."
With that, she hurried past him and out the door to a Honda Accord that was parallel parked. The back was loaded with bumper stickers that taught of love and music and equality. One said "Bitch at the Wheel" which made him smile.
After Becca drove away, Jason looked in each direction and crossed the two-lane street. The map in the room showed a row of shops and restaurants just a few blocks away. He needed breakfast.
He turned on Kirkwood Avenue and walked past three other shops. The fourth place drew him in. It was something about the odor coming out of the door, the smell of bacon and coffee. Jason sat down in a booth. The smell inside was home-cooked and wonderful, but there was an underlying scent which he couldn't pinpoint. A counter lined with barstools framed the kitchen and a row of booths lay under the windows. Above the kitchen pass through, there was a menu board with entries handwritten in chalk. JACK'S was painted on the top of it. It was a diner like many others, almost clich? in its appearance.
He motioned to a young man behind the counter who simply nodded in reply, and then walked back through a swinging door into the kitchen. Moments later, a dark haired young woman walked out. She was short and fit, wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Her smile lit up a pair of blazing green eyes when she saw him. She approached the booth and placed a menu in front of him.
"What can I get ya?" she said.
Her smell washed over him like an ocean wave. The mix of soap and lotion masked something from the rest of the customers, but he couldn't be fooled. She was like him.