bus going to Vegas. There are always buses going there and they’re usually cheap since the real aim is to have people spending all their money when they arrive, not to get there. At least I hope that’s true. And once I get there, Stormi will help me hide. At least I hope she will. The way we left it, I’m not sure I can count on her at all.
But I’ll make it right with her. I will. I have to. She’s my best friend in the whole world. My only friend. I should’ve treated her better. I think only resolution kind of thoughts as I stuff all my clothes back in the two large shopping bags and get dressed for the road.
The motel feels eerily deserted as I walk out of the room. There are cars parked sporadically along the long, single-story rectangular building lined with identical beige doors, and there are even lights in some of the windows, but it’s quiet as a grave and the velvet darkness of night hangs over it all like a shroud.
The reception area is well lit, but there’s no one behind the counter. I can hear the sound of some shooting video game on full blast coming from the back, and the little bell on the counter is broken. And if it wasn’t beyond repair before, it is now, after I slammed my palm on it for five minutes.
“Hey!” I finally yell. “Does anyone work here?”
“Just a sec,” a nasal voice reaches me from the back.
What he actually means is just a couple more minutes, because it takes at least five before he finally comes to the front. He’s barely out of his teens, if that, and so skinny his white t-shirt and washed out, baggy jeans are hanging off him worse than they would off a scarecrow. His face is covered with pimples, and I’m, almost offended at the lewd look in his eyes as he checks me out from head to toe, paying special attention to my boobs. Guys liking how I look is not usually something that offends me.
“Oh, it’s you,” he says, in an oozing way that suggests he’s been thinking about me. Another thing that doesn’t sit quite right coming from this guy. “I didn’t think you’d be back after you left this morning.”
“I’m leaving now,” I tell him. “Is there a bus to Vegas leaving tonight anywhere close to here?”
He reaches over to a clear plastic display stand next to the cash register and fumbles through the many fliers it holds, until he finally pulls out a plain white one, with red letters on it.
“This is the bus schedule for the area,” he says and hands it to me. “But I don’t think that guy who brought you here will be too happy if you just disappear to Vegas. He was very disappointed when I told him you weren’t here earlier.”
“He was here? When?” I say, my heart pounding so hard I’m getting dizzy.
“Nah, he called,” the kid says. “He left his number for you. I have it here somewhere. Wait…”
He starts rummaging around his desk and on the shelf underneath it.
“Here,” he finally says, handing me a green post-it note with a mobile phone number on it. “He didn’t give me his name, so it’s just a number.”
“That’s fine, I know his name,” I explain breathlessly, smiling, feeling like a crazy person for having this reaction in front of this pimply kid.
The velvet night covering the world outside as I power walk back to the room is no longer quiet, forbidding, or eerie. It’s alive with all the sounds and smells of rest and sleep, from street lights buzzing, cicadas chirping, owls hooting and cars driving by on their way home. The darkness caresses my skin like the warm waters of a sun-warmed pool on a summer evening.
But Colt’s phone just rings and rings and not even his voicemail comes on, so I could at least know that that pimply nerd receptionist got the number right.
I call five times before I realize that means he’s gonna have five missed calls from me and think I’m crazy. I probably will be soon, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.
The last bus to Vegas leaves at five past midnight, and there’s no way I’ll catch it since it’s ten to midnight now.
He’ll call back. And if he doesn’t, I’ll at least get another good night’s rest in the safety of this anonymous motel room. It’s been