Sugar

by Dane, Lauren

  The stuff decorating most hotels tended to be pleasing in a non-offensive and bland way. She thought of it as swap meet art. But what she struggled to take in was nothing even close to a photo of a bridge or a seascape.

  Each painting, no matter the size, was framed in a spray painted gold mass of curlicues and swirls in heavy wood.

  And they were legion. Quite possibly two dozen at the very least.

  “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be comforted or frightened,” Gregori muttered as he peered at a painting of a cowboy clown squirting a laughing horse with a plastic flower on his bright purple lapel. “There are a great many colors used here.”

  He handed her a bottle of water and some pain relievers she took gratefully as she examined the painting over the bed. “Is that a hobbit or a bear?” she asked.

  A stand of perky pine trees surrounded a cabin where round humanoid shaped things covered in a lot of hair or perhaps sparse fur appeared to be farming and drinking booze from brown bottles marked with double X.

  “I wasn’t paying that much attention when you made me watch the movies,” he admitted. “But the ones in the pictures are in shoes. There were no shoes on the hobbits in the movies. I remember the feet.”

  “Bears don’t wear shoes either though.”

  He sighed. “What about Ewoks?”

  That made her laugh as she peered closer. “I don’t think they wore shoes either. These are human I think. Maybe just like little people from far away? The perspective is wrong or the painter was thinking of some sort of magical humanoid creature. You know like frolicking and gardening and stuff.”

  “Bunnies and gnomes seemed frolicsome,” he muttered as he moved to the next one of, well it had another damned clown in it. Also a kid in a romper and a bowl haircut.

  “The kid sticking his finger in a leaking dike seems uh, historical I guess. But he’s crying or maybe laughing so hard tears are running down his face. I’m uncomfortable and fascinated all at once. Is he afraid? Happy? I’m fascinated. I can’t look away.”

  Gregori eased back a step to bracket her body with his—careful not to brush against her sunburn—and put his arms around her waist.

  “Uncomfortable and fascinated are good when it comes to art. Usually,” he said. “Did you see the clown over here on that hill?”

  Indeed there was a clown wearing a big red nose painted on a hillside in the background. His smile was more predatory than fond and it had Wren pushing herself back a little, seeking the protection of Gregori’s arms.

  “Is it stalking the kid or the dike or what? That’s a fucking ominous looking clown.”

  “I think it has sharp teeth. If you hadn’t made me watch that movie with the sewer clown I would not be feeling this way,” he said in her ear.

  She turned to kiss him quickly. “Don’t be such a baby. Best King adaption for a movie ever.”

  “If you say so. Though I can’t complain about the part afterward.” He wasn’t one for scary movies anyway, so she’d ended up bribing him with sex to get him to watch with her.

  An obvious ploy, but one they both enjoyed.

  In addition to the myriad creepy and weird paintings, there was a four-foot-tall plaster matador statue and right above it, the hanging lamp was one of those raindrop lamps from the 70s. Inside the cascading drops of oil was the usual faux gold plastic Venus statue but also a cabin and a few plastic trees.

  Gregori laughed when he saw it. “My mother had one of these back in Russia. She was so proud of it and still brings up that she had to leave it behind.” He pulled out his phone to take some pictures of it. “I’m going to text this to her. She can show it to my father so he can find her a replacement.”

  “That’s evil, Grisha,” Wren told him, laughing.

  “He needs to be kept in line and she’s the only one who can manage it.”

  “That, and you two love to torture one another in passive-aggressive ways.” Gregori and his dad were close in their own way but they did love to mess with one another for amusement.

  He shrugged one shoulder before complaining that he was hungry. “As there’s no room service here, I will run and get take out to bring back. I’ll also get some beer and more water at the convenience store. You can take a shower and relax until then.”

  Wren thought about being alone in the room and a shiver went up her spine. “How about no. I like being with you and for certain I need a drink. We can stop in the office to see if they have any suggestions for which of the nearest places are good.”

  “You don’t want to be here alone with all the clowns. That’s it, right?” Amusement brought a wrinkle to the corners of his eyes.

  She wished she could have pretended he was wrong but she couldn’t. Despite her love of scary movies, this room was creepy in a way their haunted room the night before hadn’t been. “Dude, it’s just weird.”

  “Just use your phone to find a good spot to eat. I don’t want to go back into the office until we’re checking out.”

  Wren was the one who shrugged this time. “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gregori hated the angry slash of red on Wren’s shoulder and back but was glad she’d taken something and had allowed him to slather her with aloe one more time before they left the room in search of dinner. It wasn’t hard to slather his woman with any substance at any time.

  She caught him looking and frowned. “I’m fine. I promise. I just want to run into that little shop we passed while we wait for our order.”

  He told the server they’d be in the shop across the street and left his cell in case the food was ready while they were gone.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” she said as he took her hand while waiting for a break in traffic to cross.

  “What if there’s something in the store I need but I don’t see it?” And of course he wanted to be with her. It wasn’t like she needed protecting or handling, but he wanted to do it just the same.

  The shop smelled like lavender and cedar and vaguely floral candles and had displays of jewelry, small statues and other decorative housewares.

  He caught up with her at a wooden rack displaying blankets and quilts. She pointed with a tip of her chin. “Don’t you think this one would look good at the foot of our bed?” she asked.

  It was a quilt done in deep earthy tones with the occasional pop of teal and yes it would look fantastic in their loft.

  “The pattern is called prairie star.” A tall, lanky man ambled over to where they stood. “My daughter makes them with my wife. They’re handmade but still sturdy. Machine washable. Proceeds go to my grandson’s braces.” He chuckled.

  “It’s beautiful.” Wren examined it closely, smiling.

  It was. Handmade art of the type passed down from generation to generation. Gregori could see Wren beneath it on cold nights or when they watched movies. Loved the pleasure in her expression as she took in the spokes of the pattern. One day their child or children would inherit it from them, which pleased him immensely.

  Art was meant to be used and enjoyed. Art like a quilt had a particular sort of magic. Stitches and placement of each piece of fabric all bound up in something utterly unique.

  “We’ll take it. It’ll be my wedding present to you.” He said the last bit quietly and she beamed up at him.

  “Thank you. It’ll always remind us of this trip. I like that.”

  Sam, the aforementioned lanky man who’d sold them the quilt, packaged it up and added a bottle of wine because “Why not? Who doesn’t like wine?” And also because it wasn’t a small bill.

  On their way out, Sam asked them where they were staying.

  Wren gave him a short version of their situation that landed them over at the Pine View.

  Sam’s expression told Gregori he wasn’t alone in his low opinion of the clerk back at the motel.


  “Just remember not every Montanan is like Lorie. That’s the guy who owns the place. I imagine he was working the counter?” Sam asked. “He likes to keep an eye on things and I’m sure he didn’t miss your accent.” Sam’s tone said all sorts of things, chiefly that he didn’t approve of Lorie.

  “Sounds like the guy who checked us in,” Wren said. “He made sure we understood that it wasn’t okay to trash the room. Too bad, that was our plan and now I guess we’ll have to pass.”

  Wren had a way of taking a thing and shrinking it down with humor. Gregori knew how much she resented anyone who gave him an attitude about his accent or his status as a naturalized citizen.

  But she managed to make it clear she wasn’t going to take any bullshit about it while not punching people in the balls. Well, most of the time. She had claws when she needed them. Especially to defend those she cared about.

  “He’s the only man who works the office, so if it was a guy, it was him. It’s a shame because I went to school with his mom and she was the polar opposite. Open and curious about people. Interested. Kind.” Sam shrugged. “Boy takes after his grandpa. A man who never met a hateful ideology he didn’t take to right off.”

  “Ew.” Wren wrinkled her nose.

  That made Sam laugh. “Short and sweet and very accurate. Enjoy the wine and the quilt and thank you for the business and for listening to an old guy prattle on.”

  “We can spread the blanket out on the bed back in the room and sleep on that. Maybe even picnic on it,” Wren told Gregori as they picked up their dinner.

  “If you’re truly uncomfortable with the motel let’s just keep heading west. We can find another place. I’ll drive, you sleep. We can eat and then head out.”

  “Aw, you’re a big old softie. I won’t tell anyone else, but you just know I know.”

  He rolled his eyes and pretended to be gruff.

  “The room is fine. Really. It’s not noisy even though the highway isn’t too far. Aside from the clerk being a dick, it’s really not a thing. We’ll be up and out tomorrow morning anyway. And with a cool story to tell.”

  He harrumphed as he followed her up the stairs to their room.

  “You don’t have to tolerate being uncomfortable to keep the peace,” he told her as he unloaded their dinner at the little table.

  “Do you think that’s a problem I have? Like I’m timid enough to tolerate some bullshit just to keep from making trouble?”

  “I think you love me. And I’ve come to understand over the six years we’ve been together that you do, in fact put your own needs aside for others. Not that you’re weak or timid.” He sent her a look that said she should know better. As if he’d risk his balls in saying such a thing?

  Wren wasn’t timid. She simply loved very hard and very completely.

  “Okay. Well. That’s nice to say. For the record, I’m not staying here for the sake of your feelings. I’m tired and hungry and I want to take a shower and go to sleep and then get out of here bright and early.”

  “Okay then. Sit. Let’s eat.”

  He made sure she drank a lot of water and ate well before she headed off to shower and after she got out, he made her drink more water, even though she complained she’d have to get up to pee three times in the night.

  “Settle in and I’ll be right back out after my shower. Since we can’t watch hotel porn for forty dollars a pop, I think we might be able to read or find a movie to occupy ourselves awhile.”

  “You better mean sex,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I can. Is the shower creepy?”

  “There’d have to be some sort of truly monstrous thing in that bathroom to keep you from having sex. Or are you tired of me now that we’re married?”

  “Quiet, you. Rest and I’ll be out shortly.” He bent to kiss the top of her head before leaving the room.

  * * *

  Wren grabbed her phone and called Kelsey, spilling the whole story about the hotel switch. “So, what I need is your magic right now. I don’t trust the hotel reservation I have for tomorrow and I’d like something beautiful. Quiet. With a nice view. A house maybe. Can you check into that? See what might be available between here and the Columbia River?”

  “I have an idea. Let me call you back.” Her cousin hung up without saying goodbye.

  About ten minutes later, Kelsey called. “I have a college friend. His parents own a house right on the river. About fifteen minutes from the Gorge. We stayed there a few times when we went to music festivals. Also, the dad loves Gregori’s work and has two of his paintings so when I just texted him to ask if you and Gregori could stay at the house, the dad apparently lost his mind and couldn’t say yes fast enough. In fact, they’re having the house prepped for you both now with groceries and the like. They said to tell you both you’re welcome to stay three or four days as they’re not getting back out there for another week or two.”

  “You’re the best. Thank you so much.”

  “Natch. How’s the trip otherwise?” Kelsey asked.

  “It’s been really fun. We’ve had all this time where it’s just been the two of us and we needed that. The scenery has been gorgeous. I ate a buffalo burger that was super tasty and I’m currently laying on my new quilt in a room full of creepy paintings.”

  “You two have fun and just give me a heads-up when you’re at the house. I’ll send you the address and directions. The door has a code so I’ll send that too.”

  “You need to give Kelsey a raise,” Wren told Gregori when he came out of the bathroom not too long after she disconnected her call.

  “Why? What did she do?”

  “Solved our dilemma about where to spend tomorrow night and perhaps the night after if we so desire.” Wren filled him in on the situation as he settled beside her in bed.

  It was as he moved to find a comfortable position that they discovered the bed made quite a creak when two people were on it.

  Once she started laughing she couldn’t stop until she got the hiccups. Each jolt made the bed creak a little louder, which only made her laugh harder.

  All the while Gregori laughed and alternately groused in Russian about the room.

  She snuggled up to him, fitting in that spot at his side, her shoulder up under his arm, head pillowed on his biceps. “Let’s leave the bathroom light on. Just in case we have to get up in the middle of the night.”

  That made him snort. “You want to sleep with the light on?”

  “Don’t judge me,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to even imagine what the shadows would look like on some of these paintings. Especially not when I want to sleep without nightmare fuel.”

  “I’d suggest we move this to the floor, but to be totally honest with you, I don’t even want to walk on it without socks much less put any genitalia near it. It’s a boner killer, as Maybe would say.”

  They could stand up but that would mean naked parts of her against that velvet wallpaper and if it got damaged in any way they’d never hear the end of it. The shower was far too small without some great degree of urgency.

  Knowing that when they got to the house the following day they could fuck to their hearts’ content was a delicious sort of waiting.

  “Are you thinking about alternatives?” he asked, amused.

  “I’m always thinking about alternatives,” she said, sleepy from their dinner and the wine.

  “I love you,” he told her, the bed creaking under them as he shifted to spoon her instead, one of his hands up under her shirt to cup one of her breasts.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning they packed up quick. “We’ll get breakfast on the road.”

  Gregori took their luggage down to the car while she finished getting ready. He came back up to get her a few minutes later.

  “I’m hungry,” was pretty much all he said. It was still early, before eight,
and he very clearly wanted to be gone.

  “I’m coming.” She held up two lip-glosses. “Which one do you like best?”

  He sighed. “I like the red lipstick best.”

  “I left my tube back at the inn. I have another one at home, but for now it’s gloss.”

  “Lip gloss is sticky.” He frowned. “You should have said you forgot your lipstick. We could have stopped for a new one.”

  All this because the man didn’t like being impeded when he wanted a kiss. Her usual brand stayed in place all day long, even through Gregori’s romantic attentions.

  She dashed on a pretty berry shade and shooed him out. “I’ll tell you about it when we’re done here. Let’s check out and go. Deal with the car and I’ll deal with the jerk in the office.”

  Gregori simply stared at her until she rolled her eyes. “Seriously. Just go. If he’s over the line I’ll call for you. I promise.” There was absolutely no use in her husband getting treated like shit by some dickbag.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Gregori locked the door behind them. At the parking lot he pointed to the car. “I’m putting this last bag in and I’m joining you inside.”

  As it was pretty much impossible to get him to move when he had that look on his face, Wren gave in and waved a hand at him to do whatever he liked.

  The same guy—Lorie apparently—stood behind the counter in the front office as they entered. He smirked as if that would make her pause. Hello. If she could handle Gregori—the frowniest, smirkiest man on Earth—she could handle this dick.

  She put the key on the counter. “Checking out.”

  “I trust you had a good stay,” Smirky said. “We had a complaint about the noise last night so I’ll be tacking on a surcharge.”

  Not. Going. To. Happen. “We were asleep in that creaky bed before ten. No one came to our door or called on the phone in the room to complain. So certainly you must be mistaken about which room it was.”