AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah, the rain really got you. Want me to drop you somewhere so you can change into dry clothes?”
I try to cross my legs, but my pants are too stiff. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I keep a change of clothes at the motel. It’ll just take me five minutes, tops. I can also grab a towel to dry these seats for you.” One movement on the leather tells me I’m not the only one who’s water-logged. Only I could ruin an Audi within seconds of sitting in one for the first time.
He pulls into the parking lot, stopping the car in front of his room.
“Don’t worry about the car. I’ll dry it up while you change, and I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done. Take your time.”
With a grateful nod, I unstick myself from the car seat with an unladylike squeak and walk inside the motel. I do keep extra clothes here—that part was the truth. But the better clothes are at my apartment. I don’t want him to see where I live, not now and likely not ever. It’s the real reason I had Finn bring me here. My place barely qualifies as an apartment, more like a drywalled square above someone’s garage. There’s enough room for a college refrigerator, a twin-sized bed, a two-burner stove, and the world’s smallest shower. But it works, and I can pay for it myself, my only criteria when I looked for an apartment. Some don’t mind living off their parents’ bank account forever—and yes, that’s a nod to my older siblings. But at this point in my life, I’m not willing to. Whether it’s the best life stance or the worst decision I’ve ever made, that is yet to be seen. All I know is when you manage to make it on your own, your parents have less say about your decision-making. Since mine would have my life outlined and over-booked if they were in charge, I’m happy living in a virtual box.
I open the motel front door to find Janice, our noon to three receptionist, sitting behind the front desk filing her nails. I frown; she shouldn’t be here for another hour.
“You’re here early. Where’s Frank?”
Janice emits a long-suffering sigh that seems to come straight from her ample cleavage. “Oh, his daughter got another flat tire on her way to school this morning, so he asked me to come in early. I missed the last half ofGood Morning America.” She says this like it’s on par with missing a baby’s first step. “I swear, the Fiat the girl drives is held together by a Band-Aid. She needs a new car, that kid. Don’t know why he bought it for her in the first place instead of something more dependable.”
“Not everyone can afford dependable, I guess.” Not everyone pulls up in a shiny new Honda to work here part-time just to help subsidize weekly manicures, is what I don’t say. Janice’s husband is the president of the local bank, a man who—according to her— “allowed” her to get a job for pocket money to help offset her regular beauty treatments. She says this proudly and with no shortage of grateful admiration, so I don’t dare call her husband a condescending, self-absorbed sexist pig like I want to. Janice enjoys her job, and we need someone to answer the phone three hours a day, five days a week, so my mouth stays zipped.
“Did Frank say when the car would be fixed?” I ask.
Janice loudly sharpens the nail on her middle finger and flips the page in herPeoplemagazine, as put out as you please. No matter that, Frank is a single dad of four whose wife died of breast cancer two years ago and is doing the best he can. He’s only a janitor, after all, and this town is filled with snobs. “He called from a payphone ten minutes ago,” she says with a passing glance. “Says he put on the spare and sent the kid off to school, and he’ll be here after he gets gas.” I could dip a tortilla chip in her vat of annoyance and eat it for a snack. Instead, I’d like to dump it and Janice’s uppity attitude in the trash.
“I’m certain he will then. Frank isn’t known for not keeping his word.” Like his ears were burning, in walks Frank, rain dripping from his ball cap, his clothing soaked through as much as mine. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?” I quip, starting to shiver from the cold. “Except I wasn’t smart enough to wear a hat.” A traitorous raindrop slides from my hairline to the tip of my nose just to prove a point. “Speaking of, I’m going to run and change clothes real quick,” I say, swiping at the wetness and making a mad dash for the back room where I keep a few supplies for emergencies like this. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I shut myself in the employee bathroom and yank my t-shirt over my head, cringing at how it sticks to me in all the wrong places. Unfortunately for me, my bra is also wet, and I don’t have an extra one, so this will have to work. Two minutes and an old but dry Celine Dion tee and an unfortunate pink cardigan later, I sulk out of the bathroom. My earlier band chick dreams are nothing but a memory. Now I look like a late-thirties mom running on two hours’ sleep, six cups of coffee, and a pack of cigarettes. My hair is still slightly damp and curls at the ends, but at least most of my make-up managed to survive the wannabe hurricane. I look presentable, albeit with a slightly fractured ego. It’ll have to do.
When I round the corner into the lobby, my apprehension about my appearance ratchets up a notch or five. Finn stands with an elbow on the front desk, charming the Botox right out of Janice’s laugh lines. Her face is flushed pink like someone caught flipping through a Chippendale’s calendar already at the halfway point. I might find it funny if I didn’t feel so immediately inferior. Frank is nowhere to be seen, and Finn appears to be having a swell time.
“Hey,” he says when he looks over at me. He straightens, and whether it’s accidental or not, his eyes make quick work of scanning me from head to toe. “You clean up good.” It’s such an unexpected compliment that now I’m the one blushing. To recover some semblance of control, I deflect and call him on the little white lie.
“I look like a girl who was shoved into a swimming pool fully dressed and only had ten seconds to wring herself out. I’m barely dry and a whole lot frizzy, but it’ll have to work. Hope you’re not too embarrassed to hang with me today.” With suddenly shaking hands, I reach for my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Why am I the one nervous? I’m not the stranger in this town. “Ready to go?” I walk toward the door to the sound of Janice calling, “Come back real soon!” to Finn in a voice so singsongy I half expect her to be followed by all eleven Von Trapp children. Finn promises he will, leaving out the fact that he’s staying here as a guest. No sense alerting the woman that his bedroom is just twenty feet from here.
I stop and face him when the door shuts behind us. “Is it always like this?” I ask with what I hope is a barely tolerable eye roll.
“Like what?”
His clueless act doesn’t work on me. “Your fan club. Do they follow you everywhere you go, or do you just collect new members along the way?”
“I don’t have a fan club. I’m a reporter.”
I scoff. “A reporter for one of the biggest newspapers in the country. But even if you weren’t, you’re one of those people who manage to exude enough charm to fool people into thinking you’re famous. Do they give classes for that, or do you come by it naturally?”
He smirks. “You think I’m charming?”
I start walking again, mainly to avoid the truth. “That isn’t what I said.”
“Well, it’s how I choose to take it.”
He reaches the passenger side before I do and opens the door for me. I’ll admit I’m momentarily taken aback. I can’t remember the last time a man opened a door for me, not since my boyfriend Mike at our high school prom, and that hardly counts. He yanked the door open, ran around to the driver’s side, then waited only until my door was almost closed before he sped out of my parents’ driveway. I spent the drive with a two-inch strip of purple fabric caught in the door. By the time we made it to the dance, a noticeable strip of grease had marred the taffeta. Mike’s response:“Get over it. It’s just a stupid dress that you won’t even be wearing at the motel later.”We broke up that same night. Way before his stupid motel fantasy had time to materialize.
The only men I see at motels nowadays are checking in and right back out.
Except for Finn, apparently.
“I can open my own door, but thank you,” I say, sliding onto the now-dry passenger seat. The rain has stopped, but the threat of it remains. The sky is covered in the kind of gray that makes the whole landscape look mere minutes from sundown, even when it’s still morning.
“My mother would beg to differ and would have slapped the back of my head if I hadn’t.”
I laugh. “She’s someone I might want to meet.” My eyes momentarily close becausedid I just ask to meet his mother?I’m mentally contemplating sewing my lips together when I notice the silence that hangs in the air. One of those uncomfortable silences that lets you know you’ve said something wrong.
