by C. L. Stone
A grumbling old voice, muffled through the bathroom door, broke my thoughts. “Where is she?”
I made a face, and then drew a frowning face into the fogged up mirror that I thought mimicked my own. I didn’t really want to deal with Jack now. I hung my towel properly to let it dry and yanked open the door.
Jack was leaning against the wall, his arm up ready to knock. His scruffy face was in dire need of a wash, with grime darkening the crevices. His teeth had yellowed. He had thread veins and a drinker’s nose. “What are you doing in there?” he asked, his question full of suggestive intent.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to duck around him, and holding my breath as I did. I wasn’t sure how he managed to lure women to the hotel room. Probably on a promise of a twenty dollar bill he’d nipped from me. His heady armpit smell surely wasn’t what they were after.
Jack coughed thickly, as if he had a fur ball. “Your brother told me you haven’t made rent.”
“It’ll be here tomorrow,” I said. I bit my tongue to the fact that if he didn't require me to be here when he was awake, I could probably get a better job and make enough for a better place.
“It better be. How am I supposed to teach you responsibility at your age?"
"By setting a good example and getting a job, yourself?"
"Don't you start that snippy attitude with me." He shoved the bathroom door open. "Now go clean up the room before I get out."
I moved slowly until he grunted and shoved me aside. When he was behind the bathroom door, I made a face to mock him. Not that there was a point, but at least it made me feel better. A little.
I got to work changing the bed sheets and getting fresh ones from the dresser.
Wil got up from his reading. He picked up one of the pillows and changed the cover.
“You should study,” I said.
“I have time to help you change the sheets.”
Since we lived in a hotel, technically we could have had a maid come in. Jack had already irritated the maids enough that I’d promised them I’d clean the room and change the sheets regularly if they’d leave what we needed outside the door. They were more than happy to leave it to us, since they knew they’d never get a tip anyway. I ran a powerless sweeper over the thin carpet and Wil replaced the bed’s blanket. The worst part was the mess Jack made: collections of bottles, crumpled Kleenex tissues and occasionally a pair of ladies’ underwear of unknown origin.
Jack slept for most of the day. I was convinced he only woke up and worked just hard enough to be presentable so they’d let him into the bar. I checked my stash of money, counting to make sure he didn’t take any. I don’t know where he got money if he didn’t get it from me, but I thought he might have made a few friends at the bar who occasionally gave him the fifty-cent shot specials.
The phone rang on the nightstand between the two beds. Wil and I both stared at it, silently urging the other to answer and deal with it.
“I’ve got homework,” he said, crawling back onto the bed and snagging his textbook.
I sighed, and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
A woman’s voice replied. I recognized her as being the front desk attendant though I forgot her name. “This is Kayli Winchester, right? Do you have a minute to come down to the front desk, please?”
“I’ll be there in a second.” I slid an evil eye at Wil, who wriggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. I was stuck facing off the questions of if we would be staying another week.
I was hoping they’d believe my lie. I wasn’t sure if we’d make it.
♠♠♠♠♠
I walked barefoot down the steps and toward the hotel lobby. The maroon walls and the brown and black striped carpet irritated my eyes, not to mention made the hotel lobby look like it catered to hookers. The front desk was empty. I didn’t want to wait and knew what this was about anyway, so I found the short hallway on the other side that lead to the manager’s office.
Colby was inside. Colby was a black lump with legs and a shiny bald head and wrinkled neck. If he wanted to, he could look mean, and often needed to because of people the hotel usually catered to. The rest of the time, though, he was just a lump.
His feet were up on the shaky oak desk. He stared at the large screen TV hanging on the opposite wall that had the football game playing. When whatever play was finished, his dull eyes broke from the screen and focused on me. “Oh, hi Kayli.”
“Did you need something?” I asked. “I was called ...”
“Margaret wasn’t at her desk?”
“Nope.”
He frowned. “I just wanted to see if you’ll be staying another week.”
“I’ve told you ...”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. We have to ask. The higher ups have us do this thing, you know?”
“And it’s due tomorrow,” I said. “I know that.”
“It’s not just that. We’ve had complaints.”
Not again. “What kind of complaints?” I asked, trying to make my voice light, like I had no idea.
“The neighbors hear the shouting and the banging late at night. They say it sounds like people beating each other up. They were wanting to call the police.”
I stared off at him, not wanting to confirm or deny anything, just wanting to listen. This was one of the reasons we got kicked out of the last apartment we lived in.
He sighed, shoving his fingers through his thinning hair. “Well, just try to keep it down, okay?”
“Okay.”
He pursed his lips, as if my answer wasn’t enough for him. What did he want me to say?
“By the way,” he said. “The weekly rates have gone up this week.”
My mouth dropped open. “How much?”
“A hundred dollars.”
“A hundred?” I cried out. “Don’t we get the same rate because we’ve been here for a while.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he said. “This isn’t an apartment. It’s a hotel. The rates go up whenever the big guys tell us.”
“Isn’t there something you could do? You’re the manager.”
“I don’t control the rate. I’m giving you a head’s up. I’m sorry, but maybe you should be looking to live somewhere else.”
I glared at the wall just so I didn’t have to look at him anymore. “Thanks,” I said, unable to prevent the slip of anger in my voice. I wanted to hit something, but was afraid he’d kick us out sooner, so I settled for stomping out and slamming the door behind me.
THE PRICE OF A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP
I woke up right around three in the morning and stared at the ceiling, waiting. Wil was in the bed next to me, curled up on his side and staring off at the opposite wall. There wasn’t much point to sleeping now. The bars had closed an hour ago. Jack would stumble in at any moment.
I hadn’t told Wil about the rent increase. I could barely sleep as it was, and only went to bed because if I didn’t, Wil would ask questions. I’d have been up all night conspiring with him and it wouldn’t have done any good. He’d insist on not going to school, and I knew there were a few big tests he was preparing for. There was no need for both of us to have a sleepless night. Neither of us ever slept well as it was.
Rattling echoed from the doorway. My teeth ground together. The door opened, and I held my breath, preparing.
Jack left the door open, and lumbered inside. He swayed on his feet, the floor below creaking as he rocked. I didn’t need to watch. He did the same dance every night when he didn’t score a woman.
He stumbled forward, hitting his shin on the corner of the low dresser. The television set rattled on top.
“Go to bed, Jack,” I said, hoping my tone was strong enough to convince him to avoid a fight. Oddly enough, I felt I was mimicking pretzel boy’s tone from earlier.
“Shut up, Kay,” he said. He felt for the side of the dresser, using it to steady himself as he slid his foot along the carpet. He made it to the corner of his bed, sitting up on it and staring off at the wa
ll. “Wil, come help an old man out.”
“No,” Wil said.
“What’s this?” Jack’s voice boomed. “Listen, Son. When your father speaks to you, you ask how high.”
“Keep it down,” I said.
“And you, Miss Snooty. I’ll have you know, you’re not too old for me to take you over my knee ...”
This was a critical point. I tried to keep calm. When he was drunk, he walked the line of about to pass out and ready for a fight. “Keep it down,” I said. “The neighbors are complaining.”
“Fuck the neighbors!” he roared.
There was a sliding of leather against pants, and I knew what was happening. I shot up, moving faster than Wil, practically rolling on top of him.
The first whack of the belt against my back was padded by the blanket. The second hit caught me on the edge of my chin, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from crying out.
Wil shoved me, launching me off of the bed and onto the floor. This time, I was too tangled in the blanket to pop up quickly.
As I yanked myself out of the blanket, Wil tackled Jack. Jack managed to get a good couple of slaps of the belt against Wil’s shoulder before he fell onto the bed.
Wil landed on his chest, holding down Jack’s hands, trying to catch the one with the belt. “Kayli,” Wil called.
I snapped up, finding a pillow and tossing it over Jack’s face. I planted my knees on Jack’s hands, forcing them down, and shoved down on his chest as he bucked and writhed underneath our combined weight. He tried kicking, too, but was uncoordinated, and never managed to hit Wil.
There was wild mumbling and cursing under the pillow.
I held my breath again, waiting. He must have hit the whiskey harder tonight. After a moment, there his legs slid off the edge of the bed with a thunk. Wil and I jumped up off of him. Jack continued to slide, and landed on the floor. I picked my head up, leaning over the edge to check.
Jack was sprawled out on his back. His shirt had rolled up his stomach, his pants hung down around his knees, revealing the splotchy boxers underneath. His gut hung over the waistband. His jaw was slack, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth.
The fight was over early tonight. He was out cold.
I jumped from Jack’s bed to ours, and crashed onto my back. I touched at the spot where the belt had got me. Now that the fight was over, the pain felt fresh and throbbed. I was too tired to go grab some ice.
Wil sighed heavily, crossing over Jack and gathering our blankets. He fixed them, fluffing them over before sliding into bed beside me. “I hate this place.”
I squinted my eyes closed, swallowing back the emotion in my throat. He didn’t know he might soon be free of it.
HARD BARGAIN
Jack was still on the floor at five a.m. when Wil had to leave to get to school. He took a series of busses via the TriCounty Link system that headed into Goose Creek. Spending two hours on a bus route must have sucked, but it was better than the trouble of transferring to a closer school, which would have been nearly impossible without Jack getting involved. Not to mention the closest school was scary dangerous, as far as schools went for the area.
I woke up early to snag breakfast from the hotel lobby while Wil showered up in the room. I was surprised to find a couple of boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, that were probably yesterday’s batch, out along with the usual packets of oatmeal, fruit and coffee. I grabbed four of the plain glazed doughnuts, along with extra packets of oatmeal, just in case we later were evicted. At least we’d have something to eat while we looked for cardboard boxes.
I wasn’t sure why I bothered. If I didn’t have a hundred and fifty dollars by noon, Colby would be at the door, or send in some security bully to kick us out. I could just imagine waiting for Wil to come back and having to tell him we were moving again. I racked my brain for the millionth time to figure out where we could go, but if I had a plan B, I would have used it by now.
I just needed money for one more week. Maybe then I’d find a better job. Or the Chinese restaurant would let me work more than enough hours. Or the apocalypse would happen and then it wouldn’t matter anymore. It would save me a lot of trouble.
At the thought of the restaurant, though, I dropped my shoulders. Even if I went in when they opened at eleven, he still wasn’t going to pay me over a hundred dollars for an hour’s worth of work. I couldn’t even beg him for an advance.
As I entered the hotel room again, Wil was collecting his text books and shoving them into his book bag. “Anything good?” he asked.
“Doughnuts,” I said. I planted the tray on the counter.
“Finally,” he said. He walked over, grabbing a glazed, and shoving the entire doughnut into his mouth in one bite.
“Eat a banana,” I said.
“I’m tired of bananas.” He took another doughnut, shoving half in his mouth before he reached for one of the coffees to wash it down. His gaze finally settled on my face as he drank coffee and he paused. He lifted a hand touching at my chin. “You’ve got a mark.”
I brushed my fingers across my face, feeling the tender spot. “I’ll cover it. I’ve got some of those makeup samples leftover.”
The corner of his mouth dipped, but he caught it. “Yeah, just don’t go looking like a cake face. There’s a bunch of girls at school that do that. Well there’s one that doesn’t—” He cut himself off.
When I looked at his face, he was blushing.
“You never talk about girls at school,” I said. “What’s up with this one?”
“Nothing,” he said, but too quickly.
“Liar,” I said, grinning, glad to have finally caught him in something. “You’ve got a girlfriend.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Geeks don’t get girlfriends. We die old and alone.”
I rolled my eyes and popped him on the arm. At the same time, my heart lifted. I hoped this girl had some common sense. I’d never heard my brother talk about girls at all before. For a while, I thought maybe he was gay or didn’t know what he liked. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about too much, but was glad he was showing interest in something other than schoolwork. “Stop talking like that. Go to school.”
He hiked up his book bag and headed for the door. “Don’t forget,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving. “I’ll get the money to him.”
Wil stood in the doorway a moment, staring in at me. He nudged at the edge of his glasses, where the left side frame was bent and didn’t fit well on his face.
I stared back. “What?”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.
His comment made me flinch. “Will you shut up and go to school?”
“I’m serious,” he said. He shut the door behind himself.
I rolled my eyes, shaking off the fact that my younger brother was telling me to stay out of trouble. Wasn’t I supposed to be telling him that? Except he didn’t get into trouble. He was the smart one. I shoved a doughnut into my mouth and downed the coffee, leaving the last doughnut for Wil for when he got back from school. It was a hard decision to leave food behind when we rarely got such treats, but I felt like being nice since after that, I would have to tell him about the eviction.
I stared at Jack for a moment, disgusted that he was still on the floor. I yanked the blanket off the bed to cover him, mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at him and it kept the smell down to a minimum. I made up my bed, and cleaned up the bathroom a little.
I picked up my two book bags, one with my supply of clothes, and the other with everything else that belonged to me. There wasn’t much to the second bag: a couple of old paperbacks Wil found left around at school, a collection of freebie makeup and other samples I picked up while at the mall. Near the bottom was an old photo album, one of the few things I still carried from our past life, the life before mom died. I hadn’t opened it in years, but still kept it with me.
I tugged out a pair of shorts. It had been a bit warm for October and I had a ways to
go if I was going to find a new place to target. I didn’t like wearing shorts while doing this sort of thing, but I didn’t have much choice this time. I only had one pair of jeans because they were too thick to carry in a bag containing everything I owned; shorts took up less space. I stretched the hem of my shorts down on my thighs, but they were still pretty short.
I found the same bra I wore yesterday, and a dark gray tank top. I pulled on my boots, wishing I had sneakers.
I smothered my face with foundation to try to cover the blotch of purple on my chin. Just so I didn’t look like a colorless monster, I swiped on some mascara and some lip gloss. When I wasn’t picking pockets at the mall, picking up free samples were the next best thing. Makeup came in handy if I needed to go talk to a manager about a job.
Today, I just needed to look human enough to blend in.
♠♠♠♠
A half hour later, I was on a bus, heading for downtown Charleston. It was a long shot, because tourist season didn’t last through early October. Since the mall was no longer an option, and Tasty’s wouldn’t help me earn enough money, the only place I had left was Market Street.
Market Street was the home of an old slave trade building, a brick structure with wide open archways welcoming the weather in. I couldn’t imagine what it looked like in the old days, but it was filled with vendor stalls now. The building split up the middle of a street, and nearby on either side of the brick market were two story shops, the old kind with apartments on the second floor.
When I was in grade school, there was a field trip downtown and we had to write essays to try to explain how historical and romantic this downtown Charleston area was. To me, it was just an outside market, filled with expensive knickknacks people stuff on shelves and never look at again. People who didn’t realize how much money they were wasting. The price of a sweet grass basket, a painting of the old district homes, and a few useless key chains could have fed our family for a month or two.
As the city bus stopped in front of one of the hotels along the street, I climbed off, scanning the neighborhood. Only a handful of stalls bothered to open during the week when tourists were less likely in early fall.
