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He scratches his chin at my words.
I open the car door and slide out.
“I did some digging,” he says, making me pause. “Seems your friend is broke. Dead broke. Not a cent to her name. My guess is that’s why she was at the wedding and why she was drunk. She’s either homeless or about to be if the motel hasn’t kicked her out yet.”
I look back over my shoulder at him.
“Maybe you should find out,” he says.
Kenzo finally exits the car, and I watch as he walks away, going to his motorcycle parked down the street.
Broke, that little bird is broke. How interesting. She fascinates me that one, not sure exactly why yet, maybe it’s the back talk she throws at me, or the fact she looks at me with distain and a little bit of attraction rolled into one.
Maybe I’ll pay Kalilah a visit.
Sitting in my car, I watch as she walks to her motel door. I’ve been here, waiting for her to return since I left my brothers.
Her dress is wet and filthy. She brushes her hair back from her face, and I wonder what it is about her that has stopped me from killing her. She’s attractive, but she isn’t the type I would usually go for. I like my women to have a bit of meat on them, and this woman looks like a starved animal, but she does have full lips that keep on popping into my head and a sweet, angelic voice that is as lethal as my kiss of death.
She bends down in front of her door and pulls a key card out from under the filthy doormat. Kalilah swipes it, and nothing happens. Then she stomps her foot on the ground as she tries again and again. A small scream leaves her lips as she throws her head back in frustration. I laugh at this. It amazes me she’s still alive. How dumb can you be to leave a key card for your room under the mat, especially in this neighborhood?
She turns and strides to the front desk, her hands clutched at her sides. With more force than necessary, she pulls open the front door and storms through. I wonder what the person behind the desk thinks when they see her. An angry little gremlin?
That’s what I see.
I can just make her out through the large windows of the lobby, her hands flying all about before she starts pointing at someone behind the counter. I step out of my car and lock it before making my way inside. I grab the handle just as I hear her scream. What a dickhead he is. I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me just before I pull open the door. Neither of them look my way, too focused on their heated conversation about why the door won’t open with her room card.
“You haven’t paid,” the man behind the counter says.
“Give me my things,” she demands.
“You need to pay,” the older dude says, crossing his hands over his chest and sighing loudly at her. He is clearly becoming sick of her.
“How much?” I ask, and both heads whip toward me.
Her eyes narrow, and she flips me off. “Fuck off, you dick.”
She has a few scrapes on her face, and I don’t know if they’re from when she fell on her face earlier or from another fall since. To be honest, they don’t really make her face look any worse. They simply add a little bit of character.
“Fifty for the night,” the dude yells at me, crossing his hands over his chest.
Fuck, she must be broke.
I pull out my card and place it on the counter. “Charge it for a month,” I tell him, and his eyes light up.
“I’m not taking your money, you dick,” she sneers, reaching for the card. But the guy behind the counter grabs it quickly and charges it anyway. “Give him his money and card back.”
“Your room is unlocked. Next time, pay on time.” He sits back down in his seat and holds the card up for me to take.
She huffs and stomps out, not even saying thank you.
Maybe I should teach her some manners.
Following her out, I find her opening her door and going inside. I manage to make it before the door shuts and put my foot between it and the door frame. Pushing it open, I see it’s a small room that smells a bit rank. Scanning the tiny space, I quickly find her reaching for a bag of what appears to be clothes. She pulls out another dress, this one not quite as long as the one she has on, before she walks to what I am guessing is the bathroom.
“Do you have soap?” I ask her, scrunching up my nose.
“Will. You. Leave? I mean it. Get out.” She swings around, hugging her dress to her chest as she glares at me.
