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Well, they’re nothing like Billy and me…
His stern expression breaks into a small smile all of a sudden as he stares at the sign, a mixed look of wonder and confusion on his face as if a memory is playing in his head. I glance at the sign again, Danni’s obsession with 90’s music the bane of my existence all summer. It’s a quote from a Sheryl Crow song, and I never asked her if it meant anything, because then she’d play the song, and I’d suffer.
“Sir?” I say.
He blinks, turning to me, still seeming disoriented for a moment.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes it off and opens his wallet again. “How much is it?”
“Two-oh-eight-forty-two,” I tell him.
He hands me three-hundred-dollar bills, and there’s a sign that says we don’t take bills larger than fi
fty, but seeing the unnerving pile of cash in his wallet, I don’t feel like ruffling his feathers. I take the money and get his change.
He taps on the counter as he waits, and I realize he’s matching the rhythm of The Distance by Cake that Danni has playing on the speakers in the lobby.
“Oh, don’t do that,” I joke, handing him his change. “You’ll encourage the owner. I’m trying to convince her the playlist is driving away customers.”
He takes the money and shoots me a look. “Nineties music is the best. It’s when people told the truth.”
I curl the corner of my mouth, not arguing further. He clearly drank the same Kool-Aid as she did.
“Thanks,” he says, swiping up the keys.
I hand him back his I.D. and watch him leave. Outside, he doles out the room keys to all the ladies, and after a moment, they all make their way to their rooms. I’m half-tempted to go to the window and see if he goes in with one of them. Or five of them. Very curious.
“Was that a customer?” Danni says behind me, and I glance back, seeing her walk into the office. Her apartment, where she resides with her grandmother, sits behind the office, so it’s easy to run and check on her when she needs.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “He got five rooms for the night, and he’s traveling with at least half a dozen women, so have fun on the night shift.”
She snorts and walks up, picking up the contract. “Tyler Durden?” she reads his name, squinting through her glasses.
I nod, pulling a stray brown hair off her flannel shirt. She even dresses 90s.
“Didn’t you get I.D.?” She makes a face at me. “It’s a fake name.”
“His I.D. said Tyler Durden,” I shoot back. “Why do you think it’s a fake name?”
“Tyler Durden is a lead character in Fight Club,” she spits out like I’m an idiot. “The best movie of the 90s, and one of the best books ever. It’s disturbing that you don’t know that, Jordan.”
I laugh, shaking my head. She might only be a year older than me, but we’re worlds apart in interests.
Fight Club.
My smile falls, and I drop my eyes, turning back to the computer. I’ve seen the movie, but the name didn’t register. And I’ve seen it recently, too, with Pike…
I swallow, my chest growing tight. Dammit. I’ve done really well the last few weeks, turning my attention elsewhere, so I don’t think about him. It was hard at first, but not seeing him every day made it easier. It was right to leave like I did.
But every once in a while, he’ll pop up in my head when I make taco dip for Danni during a long Saturday shift or hear a song or when I see my raincoat and the splatters of mud still on it from him and me playing around. I haven’t even lit any candles, because I don’t know what to wish for when I have to blow them out.
To wish to feel like I did with him gives him power over me again, but deep down, that’s all I still really want.
To feel that good again.
It’ll just have to be with someone else now.
