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Opening the door, I winced as the distinct smell of mildew and stale cigarette smoke hit me in the face. I tried not to cough, but Georgia couldn’t choke it down. She turned her head to the side and let out a few painful-sounding coughs, her eyes beginning to water.
Dave was standing behind the counter with a newspaper in his hands, a television sitcom playing on a small TV in the corner behind the yellow pine-constructed front desk. The laugh track blared, but Dave wasn’t even paying attention to it.
He wasn’t paying attention to us either. Lifting a hand, he scrubbed at his face, pencil still in hand, and then muttered to himself, “Hell if I can think of a six-letter word for odor.”
“Stench,” I told him, approaching the desk, Georgia next to me but hanging back a bit.
“Hell, I just sprayed some Lysol half an hour ago, Beau, you jackass,” he said before laughing and offering me his hand.
Taking it, I gave it a couple of quick pumps, deciding it was in my best interest not to comment on the failure of his Lysol spraying. If I wanted to help Georgia secure the best price possible for her luxurious accommodations, I should just bite my tongue.
“Who’s your lady friend?” Dave asked, mopping a hand through his orange hair. Dave was about ten years older than me, thin as a rail, with hygiene that matched his family’s hotel. He’d never been married, so when he died, this place would go on to one of his sister’s kids. Whichever one was the unluckiest.
“This is Georgia,” I said, realizing I didn’t know her last name. “We just met a little while ago, but she needs a room.”
Dave’s face turned even redder than usual. “Well, Beau, I’m not usually in the habit of renting rooms by the hour—”
“Oh, my!” Georgia exclaimed. “No, it’s nothing like that.” She covered her mouth with both hands.
“I misspoke,” I said, holding out my hands. I actually hadn’t said anything that should’ve led Dave to that conclusion, especially since my own house was less than two miles from here, but I saw no reason in upsetting anyone further. “She missed her cruise ship and needs a place to spend the night. They come into port in Juneau the day after tomorrow, so I’ll give her a ride.”
“Oh, I understand. Sorry about that, Miss,” he said, looking sheepish.
“It’s fine. Just let me know how much it is for the room for a couple of nights.” Georgia pulled a wallet out of her pocket and began to extract her credit card.
“Seriously, Georgia, let me get it,” I insisted, making a face I hoped would help her remember that I would get a better rate for her.
“I don’t mind,” she said, her eyes just as zeroed in on mine as my gaze was on her.
“But, Georgia, really. Like we talked about, I really wish you’d let me get it.” My smile was tight as I did my best to remind her.
Either she finally realized what I was getting at or just gave up, she said, “Fine. Thank you.”
“Local rate then,” Dave muttered. “You know, I never thought I’d be giving you a room at a local rate, Beau. Big house and all. Usually, it’s guys whose wives kick ‘em out or folks who drink too much over at West Wharf.”
“Yeah, I only had a couple, spread out over several hours,” I assured him, not that he was asking.
Dave wasn’t one to judge. He rang up the room. I paid cash, and he handed Georgia a key marked, “104.”
“Is this a good room?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.
With a shrug, Dave said, “It’s got a nice view of the woods.”
Taking her by the elbow, I led her to the door, whispering, “Do you think there’s really a difference in rooms?”
She let out a loud sigh as we walked back outside. “No, probably not.” With the door closed behind us, she added, “I guess I should’ve asked what the chances are that I’ll find blood in my room.”
“Slim to none,” I assured her. “Well, not fresh blood anyway.” I turned and grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes, but she also laughed.
Once we reached the room, I unlocked the door for her. The musty smell from the lobby had nothing on this room. Georgia almost gagged. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come with me? I don’t care about the money.”
Still finding it hard to breathe, she said, “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” The dark, dingy room had one full-sized bed in it, covered with a flannel red and blue blanket that may or may not have been used by the last guest. The brown carpet let all kinds of stains blend in without anyone noticing—much—and a thin layer of dust covered everything.
“You have my phone number,” I reminded her. She held up her phone. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” She didn’t have any food with her, no bottled water, nothing. “Do you need to run by a convenience store or something?”
“No, really, I’m fine,” she insisted, though I thought she was just trying to be polite and hadn’t actually thought this through.
Reluctantly, I took a step back, knowing she wasn’t going to let me fix this for her, even though I should. Part of it was I didn’t want to say goodbye at the moment. She was such an interesting person, besides being beautiful, and something had clicked right away. We’d just hit it off right away. Of course, I wasn’t looking for a woman in my life, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel a connection to her.
