floor of the parking garage beneath the Waterside Marriott—a building standing twenty-four stories, one of the tallest towers in the city—and park in a distant dark corner.
I take the elevator to the lobby and approach the desk. The lobby is paneled and mirrored and well lit, a double-tiered staircase cascading down from several stories up, too nice a place, really, to provide a hoodlum a few hours of rest before a kidnapping.
Behind the desk, one man and one woman stand at attention, both in their forties, look like they could be siblings or a married couple truly on their way to becoming one, and both stiffly smile as I approach. They wear tags displaying their names—Chad and Melissa—and labeling them both as managers.
Exhaustion is upon me, has me delivering my needs in single words.
“Room,” I say under my breath, like I just walked into a quick pillow.
“Reservation, sir?” Chad says.
“No.”
“Any preference for room type?”
“Eh.”
“We have many rooms available. Would you prefer a higher or lower floor?”
“Whatever.”
“North- or south-facing?”
“You’re killing me, Chad. I just want a bed.”
We go through the usual back-and-forth of their request for a credit card, which I never provide, which they explain is required in case additional charges are incurred, which means I usually fork over a wad of cash to cover it, which embarrasses them and eventually has them give way; this is why the rest of my family crashes in dumps when on an assignment.
“We’d be happy to take your bags up for you,” Melissa says. I look behind me like there might actually be something there. “Right,” she mumbles, handing over the room card. “Enjoy your stay. Elevators are just past the desk on the right.”
I rub my eyes as I walk, press the call button for the elevator, and wait in front of a closed store, a guest facility that carries higher-end clothes for men and women. I stare through the dark window at a headless mannequin wearing a sundress quite similar in style to the one Melody wore in Kentucky the day Willie and his friends pursued her. With a flash, I see Melody in it, and I remember how it fit her adult body, how she could’ve sold the style to the world by doing nothing more than wearing the dress in public.
The elevator bell dings, and as the doors slowly open it occurs to me that Melody has no more baggage with her than I do. I watched her walk into that motel room with a small plastic bag and nothing else—couldn’t have contained much more than a single change of clothes—and some of what she did have were now cold and wet. I recall my memory of her room; I don’t remember seeing clothing sitting out on the bed, the dresser, the floor. Nothing.
The elevator doors close.
I walk back to the desk. “What time does the store open?”
Melissa glances over at Chad and he scrunches his nose and nods at the same time. “Just ring it all up here,” he says to her.
I go back and stand at the store window, stare at the sundress while Melissa walks over with the key to open the place. I wait while she slides over the glass door, disables the alarm.
“No time to pack?” she asks.
I walk in and start surveying. “Not for me, for my… girlfriend.”
“Okay, what can I ring up for you?”
I point to the window. “That sundress.”
“What’s her size?”
I bite my lip a little. “Not entirely sure. I don’t know her that well.” Melissa stares at me like I’m wasting her time. “I mean, I don’t know those particular details yet.”
She takes a deep breath, prepared to play twenty questions. “Is she tall or short?”
I stare at the dress, recall the tags of garments she’d shopped for—the sixes, the eights, the occasional ten—drop to the low end assuming a likely loss in her desire to eat.
“Size six,” I guess.
Melissa opens her eyes wider. “Okay,” she says as she reaches for one off the rack. “I’ll ring this up for—”
“Wait a minute.” I walk deeper into the racks. “And a sweater, she’s gonna need a sweater.”
She sighs through her nose, turns to the nearest stack of pullovers, holds up some brown thing with a knit pattern that looks like an eighteen-wheeler left its tire prints down the center. “This is very popular right now.”
I wave her off. “She’d never wear that.” I look around for a second