by Winters, KB
According to the next road sign, the upcoming town had a motel, so I put my head down and plowed through, trying to ignore the sharp bits of rain hitting my cheeks, cursing myself for not thinking to wear my other helmet that had a full visor. When I finally reached the turn off, I let out a relieved cry and followed the sign markers to the small motel that was supposedly just a mile off the highway. As I cruised the main street, it became apparent that the motel was one of only a few places in town. I passed a gas station, small diner, and a post office, before arriving at the Blue Lagoon Motel. I hopped off my bike and laughed as I considered the sign.
“Blue Lagoon?” It was dark, but there was no doubt that I was smack dab in the middle of the dessert. There was nothing blue or lagoon about it. The motel itself looked sketchy beyond belief and as I started for the front entrance, I was struck by a strong sense that I should get back on Cherry Bomb and keep going. Surely there was something more…suitable…up the highway. I’d eventually hit a main city that would have more options.
I stopped short of the doors, ready to turn back, but a boom of thunder ripped through the sky overhead and sent me scurrying inside. The lobby was smaller than the bathroom in my apartment. I could barely take two full strides without running right into the desk. The lights were low, and a sweeping glance at the ceiling revealed that several of the fluorescent tubes had burnt out. There was no one behind the desk and the entire room was eerily quiet.
“Just my luck, I’m checking into the place from Psycho,” I mumbled to myself as I continued to survey the dismal surrounding. Everything was shabby and out of date. Two chairs were shoved off to the side, they were upholstered with some God-awful green colored velvet, and each heavily stained with…well…I didn’t really want to know what.
I should have listened to Cooper. I admitted, only to myself.
After a minute or two of waiting, I peeked over the edge of the desk and saw a dingy looking service bell. I hovered over it for a moment, before bashing down on the knob and sending a sharp chime echoing through the space. I winced as the sound faded and busied myself by pulling off my slick gloves and tucking them into my back pocket. I rubbed my hands together, willing some warmth into my fingertips, as I bounced on my heels and looked around for any sign of life.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
I rang the bell again and pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was black and when I tried to power on, the battery sign flashed at me. “Shit,” I groaned. Cooper was going to kill me. Not to mention, that with my phone out, I had no way for my family to call and update me. I gave one last glance at the clock above the desk showed it was a little after midnight. If I couldn’t check in, I needed to get back on Cherry Bomb and keep going to the next small town.
I cursed again under my breath and stalked back the few steps to fling open the front door. The hours were posted on neon colored paper. Although the lights were on, and the door unlocked, according to the sign, the front desk was closed between ten and eight.
I slammed the door closed and stepped back into the icy rain. I went back to Cherry Bomb and strapped my helmet back on and was in the middle of pulling my gloves back on, when I looked around and caught the neon lights of the flashing Open sign that was hanging in the window of the quaint diner I’d passed on my way into town. It was better than nothing, and if I was lucky, they’d have an open outlet and I could get some juice back into my phone. I grabbed my backpack from the weatherproof side compartment of Cherry Bomb and ran the block and a half to the diner.
“Sit anywhere you’d like,” a voice called from behind the counter. I took a quick look around and spotted an outlet near one of the places alongside the long counter that overlooked the kitchen. I sat down and went to work untangling my charging cable from inside my bag. I was leaning over to plug in my phone when an older woman popped up from the other side and offered a warm smile. “Hello dear, what can I get for you?” Her hands were encased in yellow rubber gloves and I realized she must have been cleaning the floor on the other side.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were open,” I sputtered, moving to hop from the stool. From my experience working in a coffee shop, I respected there was nothing worse than customers coming in at the last minute and throwing off your closing routine.
The woman blinked a few times, as though she didn’t understand, but then glanced down at her hands and gave a sheepish grin. “No, no. We’re open. Sorry about these,” she said, stripping the gloves from her hands. “We had a situation involving a blob of whip cream on the floor, someone slipped, while holding a banana pie…it was a whole thing…”
“No worries.” I smiled at her animated explanation and sank back onto the stool. “Do you mind?” I asked, flicking my eyes to my phone that was plugged into the outlet under the counter.
“Not at all. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
I looked down at the laminated menu that was lying on the counter in front of me. “I guess I should. Might have a long ride ahead of me. Hey, do you know how far up the next town is? I’m looking for a place to stay tonight and wait out this weather.”
“Did you check over at the Blue Lagoon?” The waitress asked, turning back for a second to grab a clean mug from a stack near the row of coffee pots.
“Closed,” I said. “I went over but there wasn’t anyone there.”
She poured me a cup of coffee. “Oh, honey, that’s the owner over there,” she pointed her elbow and chin and I craned around to see a man in the corner booth, hunched over a steaming cup of coffee of his own. “He comes over here around this time. Not a lot of business over at the motel…” she let her words trail off and something about it made me even more reluctant to check into the motel, but I was exhausted and needed someplace to wait out the shitty weather.
“Thank you,” I said to the waitress as she set down a mug full of coffee in front of me.
“Tell you what, I’ll go see if he has a room, you warm up with that coffee,” she said, throwing me a wink before bustling across the room to approach the man.
I turned my attention to the menu, wondering if there was anything I could eat. Sometimes, being a vegan was a real pain in the ass. In LA it was easy, there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of like minded people and restaurants were always willing to accommodate. Cooper gave me shit about it constantly, rabbit food, as he called it, but then he always surprised me by finding new vegan-friendly spots for our weekend dinners.
I smiled as I sipped the hot coffee and reminded myself how lucky I was to have found someone like Cooper. As if I conjured it up, my phone flashed to life and I smiled as the first message that popped up was a picture from Cooper showing him and Sam camped out on the couch together. I knew he’d be sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb him, even though I knew I’d face a lecture for not calling right away. I looked back at the picture and then shut off the power and let it finish charging.
“Good news, Paul has a nice room available for you,” the waitress said, rounding the counter.
I set down my coffee and flashed the waitress a huge smile. “Really? That’s great!”
I turned on my stool to wave my thanks to the man in the corner booth. He looked up and I was momentarily caught off guard by his piercing blue eyes. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, but he had a certain edge to him that intrigued me. I studied his face for a moment, and decided that fifteen years and twenty pounds ago, he had probably been quite a hottie. He gave a slow nod and got up from his seat to come over to join us. “Name’s Paul. Come see me when you’ve settled up here and I’ll fix ya up with a room.”
“Thank you so much!”
He dropped a twenty on the counter, ducked his chin in a nod to the waitress—who blushed at his gesture—and then left the diner, letting a gust of cold air in as the door swung shut behind him.
“He’s such a fox,” she breathed and I had to stifle a giggle.
“Thanks for doing that. I really appreciate
it,” I said to her.
She waved me off. “No problem sweetheart. Now, let’s get you something to eat before you go. What’ll it be?”
After some interrogation of the fry cook, I settled for a veggie burger with a side of roasted veggies. Once I was full and feeling more or less thawed out, I gave the waitress a fifty. “Keep it,” I said when she went to get my change. She nodded and as I was leaving, I was almost a little embarrassed to see tears in her eyes.
Chapter Seven — Allie
I tucked my collar up and pressed it in close around my neck before giving one last glance back through the window towards the friendly waitress, and then ran like hell back to the Blue Lagoon Motel. I burst through the front door and sheer exhaustion forced me to overlook all the glaring flaws I’d noted on my first visit. The warmth seeped into my jacket and with a full meal in my stomach—I was ready to get to bed.
“There you are,” Paul called to me as I shook out my arms, spraying rain drops in my wake. “I was beginning to wonder if Karen decided to adopt you.”
I gave him a faint smile, too tired to come up with a smart-ass reply.
He gave me another look up and down as I stepped to the counter. My legs were screaming in protest at having to move, and I dreaded what they’d feel like in the morning after such a long ride. Cooper’s offer to put me on a plane came back to me for the dozenth time and I cursed my stubbornness. Not that I would ever admit as much to Cooper. As far as he needed to know, I was warm, dry, comfortable, and not at all worn out.
“Where are you from?” Paul asked.
I sagged against the counter. “Originally? Kansas. That’s where I’m headed now actually.”
He gave a small nod and then turned his attention to the notebook in front of him. “Looks like room 201 is vacant.”
I nearly snorted at his comment. From what I’d seen out in the parking lot, it appeared that most, if not all, of the rooms were vacant. There had been two, maybe three, other vehicles parked out front and I couldn’t remember seeing any rooms with lights on. I pushed aside my skepticism and laid my hand across the table as Paul handed me a pen. He spun the notebook around on the counter so the page was facing me.
“The room is $64 for the night, check out is at ten, no smoking, no pets. Sign here,” his tone was gruff, but his expression neutral.
I handed over my credit card—the one Cooper had given me—and signed the spot indicated, agreeing to the terms, and then laid the pen on top of the book. I glanced over the counter and didn’t see a computer anywhere. “Does this place have WiFi?”
Paul shook his head. “No, and on a night like this, the satellite is probably down too.”
I shrugged. As it was, I was likely to pass out as soon as I got to the room. “All right.”
“Here is your key,” Paul said, passing over a small, metal key. No internet, no TV, and metal keys? I wrinkled my nose, wondering if I was really less than a day away from the huge, technology steeped Los Angeles. “We’re low tech, but the room are clean and a decent price.”
I nodded, doing my best to wipe the mystified look off my face. “That’s great, I’m really, really grateful you opened a room for me tonight.”
Paul gave me a small smile and another polite nod. I noted a small dimple when he smiled, and the way his eyes creased warmed up his face. I couldn’t help but smile back, remembering what the waitress—Karen—had said about him. “Not a problem. I live on site, so if you need anything, just holler. I’ll be here most of the night. I’m kind of a night owl.”
I nodded and picked up the key. “Thanks.”
Even though the room was easy to find, and not far from the main office, I was drenched through by the time I got inside. I flicked on as many light switches as I could easily find, and went about inspecting the room. It was small, and felt smaller than it was, thanks to the dark wood paneling covering three of the four walls. Other than the bed, there was a small dresser which had an old school looking TV on top and a wire table with matching chairs that looked like they had originally been meant for a patio table.
I shrugged out of my coat and draped it over the back of one of the chairs and then dragged it to sit closer to the radiator, which I bumped up to the highest setting. Although the room looked tidy, it was freezing cold and damp. The rest of my clothes were so wet they were clinging to my body, and I wanted nothing more than to strip out of everything and take the hottest shower of my life, but first I needed to make sure the bed was clean, because once I got out of the shower that was the only place to go.
I was in the middle of inspecting the sheets for any sign of bed bugs, when my phone started chirping. A flash of fear gripped my stomach as I jumped across the room to answer and saw my brother Ben’s name and number on the screen. “Ben?” I answered, the fear digging in deeper as I held my breath, awaiting his reply.
“Hey Allie. Where are you?”
“I’m in Arizona, near the border, I think. I had to stop because of the rain storm. I’m at the Blue Lagoon Motel. How’s daddy?” I sat down on the foot of the bed.
“Stable. He pulled through the heart surgery and the doctors said everything went as planned. They had to stitch him up and set a couple broken bones too, from the accident.” It had been a while since I’d last seen my brother—well, anyone in my family—but I recognized the overtone of exhaustion in his voice and could picture his sleep deprived face.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I said, wishing I could offer something more substantial. The overwhelming sense of helplessness cut into me and my nose stung as tears pricked at my eyes. “He’s gonna be okay.”
I realized I was saying it more for my own benefit than Ben’s.
“Yeah, he’s gonna be okay, Allie. Get some sleep, and give me or mom a call tomorrow when you’re getting close.”
I pressed my eyes closed and two tears fell down my cheeks. “I will. Thanks.”
As soon as I ended the call, I forgot that I hadn’t yet finished my bed bug hunt, and let myself fall back. I lay there for a long time, studying the shadows on the ceiling, and letting every unshed tear fall until I felt empty enough to sleep.
* * * *
Sunshine peeking through the tattered blinds woke me the next morning, and as I struggled to sit up, I realized I was still wearing all my wet clothes from the night before. I’d fallen asleep before changing, showering, or calling Cooper…
Shit.
I stumbled from the bed and tore out of all my—now just damp—clothes and took a scalding shower, hoping the temperature of the water would kill off any fungus or bacteria lurking in the corners of the old shower stall. I scrubbed frantically at my tangled hair, unknotting it as I worked the conditioner through each section. My hair was unruly on the best of days, but after being plastered in a helmet for several hours and then slept on soaking wet and windblown, it was in rare form. When I finally got free from hair hell, I lathered up the rest, rubbing my tired legs with extra attention, knowing it was only going to get worse. I needed to put in another ten plus hours and I didn’t want to have to stop and spend another night in a motel.
It was going to be the longest day of my life.
When I got out of the shower, my phone was chirping at me and I swallowed a lump in my throat, knowing—without even looking— Cooper was on the other end of the line. And he wasn’t going to be in a good mood. I grabbed the phone on the last ring and reluctantly pressed it to my ear. “Hi.”
Without preamble, the voice on the other line snapped, “Where the hell are you?”
I pressed my eyes closed, hating the sound of panic in his voice, knowing I was the one responsible for putting it there. “Cooper, I’m sorry I couldn’t call last night. My phone died and I got stranded at this motel to wait out the shitty weather.”
My explanation was met with cold silence. I sat down on the bed and absentmindedly continued massaging my legs. “Cooper?”
“I’m here,” he growled.
The man cou
ld brood better than anyone I’d ever met before, a trait I somehow found alluring and infuriating—usually at the same time. I sighed. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I said I’m sorry, and I am. I’m safe, just a little waterlogged.” I went to the window and looked out over the parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Cherry Bomb. “I’m leaving as soon as I get some breakfast and coffee.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to book you a flight?” Cooper asked, his voice releasing the sharp edge.
I smiled. “I’m sure. I talked to my brother last night and my dad is still in recovery, but it sounds like the surgery went well. I should be able to get to the hospital late tonight if I ride all day, and before you interrupt me—” I said, giving just enough force to my voice to make him listen, “—I’ll stop when I need to rest and I won’t do anything stupid. I know my limits, okay?”
“I know you do,” he finally admitted. After everything Cooper and I had gone through, there were two things I knew he knew about me. Number one being I’m a survivor who will always find a way to make it work. And two, I’m too stubborn to back down once I’ve started down a path. “I miss you.”
Even with all the chaos between getting the call and the long, stressful ride, Cooper had never been far from my mind. Hearing him tell me I was missed, made me miss him even more and my heart twisted at his sweet confession. “I miss you too.”
I clicked off the call and hurried to get dressed before wading up my wet clothes and stuffing them to the bottom of my backpack. Luckily, I’d managed to get my jacket dry since I’d set it by the radiator before passing out, and as I shrugged into the warm, soft leather I instantly felt prepared to go out and continue the ride.
“Leaving so soon?” Paul asked as I strode through the door of the lobby. He was leaning against the desk, shoveling generous bites of pie into his mouth. A smile quirked my lips, knowing it was likely a gift from a certain female admirer at the diner. “Check out isn’t until ten, ya know.”
