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“Why are you whispering?”
“Because . . .” A pause. “Would I be . . . like . . . a total skank if I slept with another guy now? Like in about ten minutes?”
Meg stood straighter. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Do you like him?”
“Kind of. He’s no Ted Beaudine, but . . .”
“Then you should definitely sleep with him.” Meg spoke more forcefully than she’d intended, but Lucy didn’t pick up on it.
“I want to, but . . .”
“Be a skank, Luce. It’ll be good for you.”
“I guess if I’d seriously wanted to be talked out of this, I’d have called somebody else.”
“That tells you a lot, then.”
“You’re right.” Meg heard the sound of water being shut off in the background. “I have to go,” Lucy said in a rush. “I’ll call when I can. Love you.” She hung up.
Lucy sounded frazzled, but excited, too. Meg thought about the call as she finished a bowl of soup. Maybe this would all turn out okay in the end. At least for Lucy.
With a sigh, she washed the saucepan, then laundered her dirty clothes with some dishwashing detergent she found under the sink amid a scatter of mouse turds. Every morning, she’d have to wipe out the signs that she’d been here, pack her possessions, and stow them in her car in case Ted stopped by. But for now, she had food, shelter, and running water. She’d bought herself a little more time.
The next few weeks were the worst of her life. As Arlis made her days increasingly miserable, Meg dreamed of returning to L.A., but even if she could have gotten back, she had nowhere to stay. Not with her parents, whose tough-love speech was seared into her brain. Not with her friends, all of whom had families, which was fine for an overnight stay, but not for an extended visit. When Birdie grudgingly informed her that she’d finally worked off her debt, Meg felt nothing but despair. She couldn’t quit the inn until she had another source of income, and she couldn’t move as long as Lucy’s church was her only shelter. She needed to find another job, one in Wynette. Preferably a job that provided immediate tip money.
She applied to wait tables at the Roustabout, the honky-tonk that served as the town’s gathering place. “You screwed up Ted’s wedding,” the owner said, “and you tried to stiff Birdie. Why would I hire you?”
So much for the Roustabout.
Over the next several days, she stopped at every bar and restaurant in town, but none was hiring. Or at least they weren’t hiring her. Her food supply was nonexistent, she was purchasing gas three gallons at a time, and she had to buy Tampax soon. She needed cash, and she needed it fast.
As she removed still another revolting hair plug from still another crusty bathtub, she thought about how many times she’d forgotten to tip the housekeepers who cleaned the hotel rooms after her. So far, all she’d picked up in tips was a measly twenty-eight bucks. It would have been more, but Arlis had an uncanny ability to spot the guests most likely to be generous and make sure she checked their rooms first. The upcoming weekend might be lucrative if Meg could figure out how to outsmart her.
Ted’s former best man, Kenny Traveler, was hosting a golf outing for his friends who were flying in from all over the country and staying at the inn. Meg might regard the sport with contempt for the way it gobbled up natural resources, but money was to be made from its disciples, and all day Thursday, she thought about how she could profit from the weekend. By evening, she had a plan. It involved an expenditure she could ill afford, but she made herself stop at the grocery after work and turn over twenty dollars from her meager paycheck as an investment in her immediate future.
The next day she waited until the golfers began trickling in from their Friday afternoon rounds. When Arlis wasn’t looking, she grabbed some towels and started knocking on doors. “Good afternoon, Mr. Samuels.” She plastered on a big smile for the gray-haired man who answered. “I thought you might like some extra towels. Sure is hot out there.” She set one of the precious candy bars she’d bought the night before on top. “I hope you had a good round, but here’s a little sugar in case you didn’t. My compliments.”
“Thanks, honey. That’s real thoughtful.” Mr. Samuels pulled out his money clip and peeled off a five-dollar bill.
By the time she left the inn that night, she’d made forty dollars. She was as proud of herself as if she’d made her first million. But if she intended to repeat her scheme on Saturday afternoon, she needed a new twist, and that was going to involve another small expenditure.
“Damn. I haven’t had one of those in years,” Mr. Samuels said when he answered the door on Saturday afternoon.
“Homemade.” She gave him her biggest, most winning smile and handed over the fresh towels, along with one of the individually wrapped Rice Krispies treats she’d stayed up until well past midnight last night making. Cookies would have been better, but her culinary skills were limited. “I only wish it were a cold beer,” she said. “We sure appreciate you gentlemen staying here.”
/> This time he gave her a ten.
Arlis, already suspicious over their dwindling towel inventory, nearly caught her twice, but Meg managed to dodge her, and as she approached the third-floor suite, registered to a Dexter O’Connor, her uniform pocket held a comfortable weight. Mr. O’Connor had been out yesterday when she’d stopped, but today a tall, strikingly beautiful woman wrapped in one of the inn’s white terry robes answered the door. Even just out of the shower, with her face scrubbed free of makeup and strands of inky hair clinging to her neck, she was flawless—tall and thin with bold green eyes and iceberg-size diamond studs in her ears. She didn’t look like a Dexter. And neither did the man Meg glimpsed over her shoulder.
Ted Beaudine sat in the room’s easy chair, his shoes kicked off, a beer in hand. Something clicked, and Meg recognized the brunette as the woman Ted had kissed at the gas station a few weeks ago.
“Oh, good. Extra towels.” Her splashy diamond wedding ring sparkled as she grabbed the package on top. “And a homemade Rice Krispies treat! Look, Teddy! How long has it been since you’ve had a Rice Krispies treat?”
“Can’t say as I recall,” Teddy replied.
