by Dan Dillard
Chapter 7
Something strange lurked in the air in that small town. The city was divided into distinct areas of charming college hope and old-time, small-town gossip. To an outsider it looked like the water at river delta, a distinct line between fertile, brown river-bottom sediment meeting the salty blue of the ocean, swirling but never quite mixing. It would make it easy for Jason to disappear, not quite fitting in on any side. He was too old for the college crowd and too young for the opinionated, set-in-their-ways folk. His routine was his focus and a necessity to keep all of the above safe.
Several hours and six apartment complexes later, frustration surfaced. Each was worse than the last. Too expensive, too close to the college or too many neighbors. He needed seclusion if he was to stay in the shadows. The last thing Jason wanted was to rampage the mall. Maybe one more night at the hotel was a good idea.
The meeting with Rocky stuck in the front of his mind like it was stapled there, a nagging distraction.
He phoned two of the construction companies about jobs and found voicemail with each call. He was used to the small-town mentality. Saying they'd get to it Tuesday could mean next Tuesday, or any other Tuesday in the future. There was enough cash saved to play that game through the next cycle. He placed the phone back in the cradle and left the business center of the hotel. A familiar face was checking in at the front desk.
"Becca," he said.
She turned and smiled at him. "Jason, Hi. Back for more? I figured the hospitality around here would've just about crushed you by now."
"Nah. I still need to find an apartment. And a job for that matter."
She nodded at the off-going clerk and punched some keys on the keyboard.
"So you didn't do anything today?"
Jason chuckled. "I wouldn't say that. I met an interesting girl."
"Ahh. Well, maybe you should find a place to live before you try to take her home. 'Come to my hotel' usually raises red flags."
He laughed again. He liked her.
"Right. You know her? Her name's Rocky."
"Oh, yeah. She works around the corner, a little bubbly for me, but nice enough. I get grub there all the time."
Another guest approached the counter and Jason stepped aside while Becca saw to their needs. He took the opportunity to glance at the day's paper. There was no change from the want ads in the previous day's paper, but there was a flyer stuck to the bulletin board he hadn't seen before. Five words were written on it: House for rent. No students.
Beneath that was a phone number.
"Nice," he said.
He pulled the page from the wall and walked to the glass door of the business center. A young girl clicked away at the internet. She didn't pay him any mind. Jason dialed the seven digits on the courtesy phone and waited through four rings.
"Hello?" a woman's voice answered. It warbled, sounding like an elderly person, then she cleared her throat and tried again.
"Hello?" Much stronger that time.
"Hi, ma'am. My name is Jason."
"You interested in the house?" she said.
"Yes ma'am."
"You a student?"
"No ma'am."
"Good. And cut the ma'am shit. My name's Anne."
"Anne then."
The pause that followed was uncomfortable.
"You come by tomorrow morning, I'll show you around," Anne said.
"I'll be there. Nine o'clock ok?" Jason asked.
"I s'pose."
"Ok then. I'll see you at nine, Anne."
As he reached to hang up the phone, he heard, "Hold on there, fella."
"Yes?" he said.
"Why you want to rent the middle of nowhere?"
"I dunno. I need some peace I guess."
"Ha! Best of luck with that," she said. "Nine o'clock. Don't be late. Late pisses me off."
She hung up on him. Jason placed the phone down and shook his head. Then he left the other girl to surf in solitude. Since no one was at the front desk with Becca, he moved back to the counter.
"Have you notice anything weird about her? Rocky, I mean."
"Wow. You jump right on the love bus don't you?" Becca said.
Jason shook his head. "It's not love. It just seems like I know her from somewhere."
Becca rolled her eyes. "You do. She served you coffee just like a thousand others before her."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
He glanced at his cell phone. Twelve days to go before the next set of fireworks. He could feel the urge building in his belly, his muscles and joints aching as they loosened for the coming migration. There was a voicemail icon in the corner. It had the number "1" in the center of it. It was odd for him to have a message. The girl behind the counter faded from background to foreground and he looked back at her.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was zoned," he said.
"I said, why do you keep using that crappy wall phone if you have a cell?"
"My battery's almost dead and I need to buy a new charger."
He didn't want to tell her that he didn't give out his phone number, and he didn't call anyone so they couldn't call him back. It was a benefit from his last job and he probably should've given it back. The fewer people who knew how to contact him, the better.
"See ya 'round, Becca."
She smiled but didn't look up from the textbook she was staring at. "Whatever."
He smiled at her stone personality.
"Hey," she said. "You need a wakeup call?"
"Sure. Eight?"
"Done."
In the elevator, Jason pulled the green sheet of paper from his pocket. Three o'clock seemed like forever away and there was no way to prepare for the meeting. He lay down in the hotel bed and closed his eyes, but didn't sleep for hours. When he did finally doze, his mind was blank.