Homemade Sin

by V. Mark Covington

  Dee Dee folded her arms over her chest and made a face as if she had smelled something horrible. She beheld the sagging roof and the two floors of faded magenta doors and knew they led to tacky rooms containing gold-veined mirrors on the ceilings and oceans of baby-blue shag carpeting.

  “Does it look better in the daylight?” she said.

  ”Uh … no, actually, it’s not as pretty in the daylight, but it’s not as bad inside as outside,” Roland tried to give Dee Dee some hope. “Besides we’re going to fix it up, right?”

  “I had pictured a cotton-candy-palace, a pink poodle of a hotel, set amid mint green palms overlooking turquoise water the color of salt water taffy, bathed in butterscotch sunshine.” Dee Dee was now pacing up and down in the parking lot. “A hotel like the Paradise Hotel with a real, live alligator swimming in a fountain in the lobby, Bell Captains in stuffy uniforms, snooty concierges and a dining room with tables set with crystal and linen. This shabby, concrete cockroach trap is beyond hope.”

  “Would you like to take the grand tour?”

  Dee sniffed. “I seriously doubt there will be anything ‘grand’ about it, but lead on Mister Slumlord.”

  While Roland gave her the less-than-grand tour, he sensed Dee Dee reevaluating her life. Skirting the pool on the way to the front desk, he could almost hear her deciding the first thing she would have to do was cool down this relationship thing. The last thing she needed was a poor guy with a flea-bag hotel. As Roland led her through one of the rooms, he saw her shake her head at the predictable gold-veined mirrors and baby-blue shag carpeting. It was very obvious she hadn’t counted on the orange plastic chairs arranged on the three foot square balconies overlooking the beach.

  “Look at the beach,” said Roland. He stepped out onto the balcony and pointed to the long strip of white sand and the moon shimmering like diamonds on the dark water of the Gulf. “Isn’t the beach beautiful?”

  Dee Dee leaned on the rail of the balcony and took in the view of the beach. “Yes, the beach is nice,” she conceded, “but looking at the beach from one of these rooms is like looking at the French Riviera through a hole in your live-in, cardboard refrigerator box.”

  The last stop of the tour was the Blue Flamingo Lounge. Roland crossed to behind the bar and poured himself a beer. He knew the hotel was a dump, but he couldn’t listen to any more of Dee Dee’s snipes while sober. “Drink?”

  Dee Dee managed to choke out “Tequila,” as she wandered around the lounge, tsk-tsking everything she saw. She made a motion like sticking her finger down her throat as she gazed at the fishnets with big cork floats strung on the walls, the ship in a bottle in the window overlooking the beach, and the assorted shells lining the shelves behind the bar. “You have to be kidding,” she said as she stood back to take in the full measure of a huge stuffed swordfish hanging over the door. The fish had oversized sunglasses perched on its nose and multi-colored, plastic leis hung around its neck.

  “So?” Roland said. “Is it beyond hope?”

  “It’s awful.” Dee Dee tossed back her shot of tequila. “But we’ll do what we can with it. Get a sheet of paper and a pen and we’ll start drawing out a plan.”

  From his perch atop the green dumpster Stinky spied an air duct extending from a hole in the cinderblock wall above the dumpster. He bounded toward it from the top of the dumpster, eased into the hole and followed the small, square, galvanized tunnel through a series of twists and turns that led him farther and farther toward the center of the motel. The tunnel dead-ended at a loose grate above the bar giving him a bird’s-eye view of the entire lounge area. He settled in and looked down on the two people below huddled over large pad of paper, making sketches of the renovations they would make.

  He purred with satisfaction as Dee Dee and Roland planned the conversion of the Blue Flamingo into the Fugu Lounge.

  Chapter Six

  And Moreover The Dog

  Cutter Andrews was standing at the rail, smoking a cigar, watching a pack of racing greyhounds chase an electric rabbit around a dirt track. “What the hell is that dog doing?” Cutter stared in disbelief, as Moreover, the greyhound on which he had bet two dollars, leapt from the track onto the wooden rail that separated the track from the infield.

  The dog stood up on his hind legs and began prancing up and down the rail. He pirouetted, flipped on to his front paws and performed a perfect front-paw-stand. Flipping back on his hind legs the dog placed his front paws on his hips and began dancing the Can-Can. In his head, the dog was Tiny Dancer, King of the Circus. In his mind, he saw himself as a teacup Chihuahua in a pink tutu with little pink ballet shoes on his hind paws. A sequined conical hat perched jauntily on his head and he held a petite umbrella in his mouth. When he saw the electric rabbit running along the rail toward him he leapt into the air, doing a back-flip as the rabbit passed under him and landed on the dirt track. Catching a burning baton in his teeth in mid-flip he landed on his hind paws to the cheers of the adoring crowd.

  His head cleared. Moreover realized he was a greyhound again and the crowd was booing and cursing him. His mouth felt like it was on fire and he yelped in pain.

  Cutter, who had tossed the lit cigar at the dog’s mouth, was laughing. When the cigar burned his tongue, Moreover let out a small, mournful yip, lowered his head and his tail and sulked back toward the kennel through a barrage of half-eaten hot dogs and beer cups.

  “Crazy ass dog. That’s two bucks I’ll never see again. Thanks you mangy mutt!” Cutter tore his ticket in half, tossed it over his shoulder and stormed off toward the exit. As he looked toward the kennels he saw the dog being locked into his cage. He waited for the dog’s trainer to leave and approached. “Stupid dog!” Cutter grunted at the dog and kicked his cage. The dog cowered into a corner of the cage and stared at stared at Cutter, running his burned tongue around his mouth and fixing Cutter’s image in his mind.

  Cutter cursed as he checked his watch. “Oh shit, I’m late. Hussey is going to have my ass.”

  When Cutter pulled up in front of the admissions office at the University of South Florida, College of Medicine, Hussey was standing by the entrance, arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot. Cutter looked at his watch again. “Oh, shit, I’m almost an hour late.”

  “How did it go?” Cutter smiled broadly, trying to sidestep her wrath.

  “You’re late!” Hussey climbed into the van. “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been looking for an apartment for us,” Cutter said, giving her his best sheepish look.

  “Did you find an apartment near campus?”

  “Not yet. I didn’t see anything you’d like, so I’ll look again tomorrow. How do you think you’ll like the school?” Cutter said, eager to change the subject, as he pulled into traffic.

  “It’s going to be pretty cool.” Hussey was still icy but starting to melt. “I got a tour of the campus, filled out all the forms, got my list of books. I have to be back tomorrow with the tuition check. Did you go to the bank and deposit the check my dad gave me?”

  “Yep, I opened a joint account and deposited the whole thirty thousand. I also put all my savings in there too. We can write checks on that.”

  “Your entire savings was what … fifty dollars?”

  “Almost two hundred!” Cutter said.

  “Fine, I’ll take the checkbook.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Sure I trust you, but like my father always said, ‘trust everybody, but cut the cards.’”

  Cutter handed over the checkbook. As Hussey checked the deposit receipt Cutter patted the ATM card in his pocket and smiled to himself.

  Satisfied the deposit money was actually in the account, Hussey said, “Did you at least find us a hotel at the beach until classes start?”

  “Not yet, I had some other things to do,” said Cutter.

  Hussey turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I went to St. Pete Beach and drove around.” Cutter knew what her raised
eyebrow method all too well. “But I stopped into this little beach bar and the next thing I knew it was time to pick you up.”

  “God, you truly are a screw up” said Hussey. “See why I don’t trust you? Now we don’t have a place to stay tonight.”

  “Let’s drive up the beach,” said Cutter, easing toward the exit to St. Pete Beach, “see what we can find. I saw a place that looks like it was recently renovated; they were hanging the sign up when I drove by. It’s called the Santeria Hotel. Isn’t ‘santeria’ another word for voodoo?”

  It was early evening when Roland announced, “That’s all of it,” as he straightened the picture of Marie Laveau on the wall by the door between the bar and the hotel lobby. He stepped back and scanned the room.

  Dee Dee had just finished cleaning fresh fish for tomorrow’s opening day, on the new sushi bar she had picked up from a cheap restaurant supply house in Sarasota. They had worked straight through the night since pulling into the parking lot towing the U-Haul with all the voodoo paraphernalia from Key West. Behind the bar Roland had removed the shells and rearranged some of the liquor bottles to leave the top shelf open for the assortment of bottles and vials containing voodoo powders and elixirs. Statues of voodoo gods and goddesses were arranged around the room; voodoo dolls hung from the ceiling in prominent locations from fishing line.

  The room had acquired an eerie feel.

  Roland stepped behind the bar, “Want a celebratory drink?” He poured himself a beer from one of the taps.

  “Fucking tequila,” said Dee Dee. She wiped her hands on her apron and bellied up to the bar. What sounded like an air-horn blasted from the pier a few hundred yards down the beach from the hotel. Through the window she saw a large white paddle wheeler docking.

  “Must be around six,” said Roland, pouring tequila. “That’s what time the casino boat docks and blows the horn. It’ll dock there for about an hour while it takes on new passengers and then it heads out toward Tampa. All suckers if you ask me. Take a look at that beautifully renovated paddleboat. Gorgeous, right? The bar is teak; oil paintings on the walls. Do you think they bought all that stuff with their losings? People think they can win big, but the house always wins. Some people are dumber than dirt.”

  Dee Dee’s gaze took in the gambling boat, scanned the room, and came to rest on the cash register. She needed some money to get the fuck out of there.

  Just then they heard a sharp ding as someone slapped a palm on the little silver bell by the check-in desk.“Guests,” said Roland. He migrated from the behind the bar and started toward the hotel lobby.

  Cutter and Hussey were standing at the front desk looking impatient as Roland slid behind the check-in desk.

  “Need a room?” Roland said.

  “Just for the night,” Hussey said. “My genius boyfriend is going to find a better place tomorrow while I finish up the stuff I have to do at medical school.”

  “University of South Florida?” Roland placed a check-in form on the desk in front of them. “It’s a good school, you going to be a doctor?”

  “Neurologist.” Hussey met his eyes for the first time.

  Roland was struck by her eyes; they were a sparkling hazel, the color of the Gulf in the sunlight. He let his gaze drift down as he took in her face and her body.

  She noticed the drift of his eyes and smiled at him, apparently enjoying the impressed look on his face as he soaked her in.

  “What is that boat docking out there?” Cutter nodded through the window at the paddle wheeler that had just docked and was emitting a stream of gamblers. A man in a captain’s uniform was standing beside a yellow rope stretched about fifty feet down the pier. A line of people waited behind the rope for the exiting passengers to depart for their turn to board.

  “It’s a casino boat,” Roland said without taking his eyes off Hussey. She blushed as he smiled at her. “The boat takes on passengers every evening around six and crosses the bay to Tampa to pick up a crowd over there, then it heads back and docks again at ten and takes on another group. It runs back and forth across the bay until dawn.”

  Cutter bent to the desk and filled in the check-in sheet while Roland selected a key from the pegboard behind the desk. “You’ll be in number eight,” he told Hussey. “I can help you with your bags.”

  “That’d be great,” Cutter said. He slid the form across the desk toward Roland.

  “And how do you want to pay?”

  Cutter raised his eyebrows at Hussey who dug in her bag and found a credit card. As she passed the card across the desk Roland extended his hand to retrieve it. For an instant their fingers touched. Roland could almost hear the chemical crackle and felt a tingle of electricity shoot up his arm as they brushed fingertips. She must have felt the same thing, Roland thought, because she looked shocked for a moment. Then she cocked her head at Roland as if to say ‘What the hell was that?’

  Roland caught the look as he swiped the card through the machine. “Must have been static electricity,” he said, loud enough for Hussey to hear.

  Hussey took the card back from Roland and purposely touched his fingers. They both felt the electric tingle again and smiled at each other.

  “Look,” said Cutter to Hussey, “this guy will to help you with the bags, so why don’t you get settled in? I’ve got to run out and do some stuff. I may have a line on an apartment in St Pete, I forgot to tell you. The guy said I could look at it tonight, but I need to go now.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Hussey said. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, no … you get settled in. I’ll check it out and if it’s nice, you can see it tomorrow. You need to rest up for your admissions stuff.”

  “Well, OK ….” Hussey said. Cutter was already headed for the door to the parking lot. “Just don’t fuck up!”

  “Don’t worry babe,” Cutter said over his shoulder. He smiled as he patted the ATM card in his pocket again and headed for the casino boat.

  When Cutter was out of sight, Dee Dee said to Roland, “I only have a couple of bags. I can handle them.”

  “Your boyfriend is a piece of work,” Roland said and shook his head. Hussey smiled a cheerless smile and scooped up the room key from the counter. She picked up the bags Cutter had placed by the desk and headed for the door to the row of rooms.

  “If you need anything dial ‘0’,” Roland said, with a magnum of sincerity and a shot of flirtatiousness.” I’ll be at the bar for a little while longer. After that, the phone rings over to my room.”

  “Good to know,” said Hussey. She wore a flattered smirk as she disappeared around the corner lugging the suitcases.

  Dee Dee caught a glimpse of Cutter heading for the casino boat from beside the dumpster where she deposited the most poisonous fish and shellfish cuttings. Now there’s a hottie, she thought as she stepped through the kitchen and into the bar.

  “I don’t think we will be getting any more customers tonight” Roland told Dee Dee as she crossed to the sushi bar. He slipped a beer mug under the tap and poured himself a beer. “Why don’t you call it a day?” He removed a cash box from beneath the bar and started counting ones, fives, tens and twenties into the register till for their opening day tomorrow. He closed the register and removed another wad of bills from the cash box waving it at her. “I’ll be at the front desk for a while; I need to finish up some paperwork. Then we can catch dinner at a place on the beach if you like. I put fresh sheets on the bed in our room this afternoon.”

  “We need to talk about that,” Dee Dee said. “Maybe I should have a room to myself tonight.” She sighed. “I’m very tired and I need some time alone to think.”

  “I understand.” Roland downed half the beer in one gulp; he really didn’t understand. In Key West she couldn’t wait to get him in bed; now she seemed indifferent to him. He had felt her cooling off all afternoon and now she was practically arctic. He would be sleeping alone tonight.

  Dee Dee saw the look of disappointment on his face and sai
d, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “That doesn’t sound promising,” Roland said under his breath.

  Locking the door to the bar behind them, Roland led Dee Dee to the front desk. He selected a key marked number seven from the pegboard and handed it to Dee Dee wordlessly.

  Dee Dee watched where he hung the key to the bar on a hook labeled ‘bar.’

  “How long are you going be at the desk?”

  “If nobody shows up in an hour I’ll call it a night. If you get lonely later, my room is right next to yours. Just tap on the wall and I’ll come over.”

  A wistful look passed over Dee Dee’s face as she headed for her room.

  From his perch behind the air vent grill Stinky peered out into the dark bar. He decided it was time to start putting his plan into action. He pressed his paws on to the air vent, sending it rattling to the floor. Leaping from the air shaft, he followed the vent south.

  Sitting beside the beer tap, Stinky scanned the rows of potions and powders on the top row of shelves behind the dark and empty bar. Moonlight shone off the multi-colored bottles as he examined the labels: ‘hummingbird ears’, ‘ground monkey paws’, ‘powdered unicorn horn’. There had to be something there that would work. His gaze fell on a bottle labeled ‘zombie extract.’ Thinking it sounded promising, he leapt to the shelf and grabbed the vial of powder in his teeth. As he did so, Stinky heard a click of a lock turning and the door to the bar opened. Stinky sprang off the bar and hid below the cash register, aware of creeping footsteps coming across the room.

  Dee Dee crossed the bar to the cash register. She reached below it and found the cash box. Placing the cashbox on the bar she flipped open the top, revealing stacks of cash. She snatched a wad of twenties, stuffed them in her pocket, then heard a noise below the register. She looked down as a vial of purple powder rolled between her feet. She saw a black paw stretch out and pull the vial back under the register.

  “Is that you Stinky?” Dee Dee said.