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I put the key in the lock and turn, momentarily amused that there are still motels operating with metal room keys. The inside of the room matches the design of the lobby, with patterned royal purple carpet and rattan furniture. There’s a small couch and a table near the window, a double bed in the center of the room, and a flatscreen TV on the dresser. At least they updated something.
I lock the door, dropping my backpack onto the sofa before collapsing face-first into the mattress. I need to shower. I need to think and prepare what I will say to Evan tomorrow. I need to at least take my boots off. But I don’t do any of it, and fall fast asleep instead.
Chapter 5
Zaden
The Bluetooth speaker buzzes as the bass drops, vibrating the plates on the shelf beside it. I slide around the line on the slippery soles of my boots, wiping down the last of the stainless steel tables.
“Incoming,” Lloyd says, tossing a bucket of soap water onto the floor beside me.
“This is done,” I announce, carrying several covered bowls into the walk-in as Katrina follows Lloyd with a floor squeegee. I spot Ryan headed out the back door and follow him, tapping my PIN on the back register to clock out. The sea breeze rushes in to cool my sweat-drenched skin the moment I step outside, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Sliding onto the top of the picnic table, I dig a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. The lighter flares bright in the darkness, and I take a long, appreciative pull.
“It’s almost one,” Ryan states, pulling out his phone. The road in front of the Sandbar is empty, with the exception of a lone car every few minutes. Quiet again, finally. Ilean back on my elbows, listening to the crash of the waves against the sand. “You still headed over to Ava’s?”
I shake my head. “Nah, it’s too late. She’s already in bed.”
“Long fucking day.”
“Yeah, sixteen hours today,” I agree. “The days suck, but the paycheck doesn’t.” The seventy-hour weeks are brutal, but the overtime pay more than makes up for it.
“Have you heard from Jax?” He asks, and I glance over at him.
“Nope. We were supposed to take the bikes to the track on Saturday, but he never showed.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “He’s missed three days. Evan’s going to fire him.”
I shake my head, taking a pull from my smoke. “I’m sure he’s aware. Katrina doesn’t seem too alarmed. She said he left a note. You know he takes off for a few days every year around this time.”
Ryan looks confused for a moment, then remembers. “Drake.”
I nod. “Katrina buries herself in work. Jax dips out. It’s how they cope.” Eight years ago they lost a brother, and even as time passes, it doesn’t seem to get any easier. When the end of summer rolls around, they struggle. I feel it, and I don’t blame them. I knew him too.
Katrina walks out the back door and joins us, sighing as she takes the cigarette from my hand.
“I need something stronger than this,” she comments, but steals my smoke all the same.
“Come by later,” I offer. “I’ve got some shit right now that will make you forget yourown name.”
She smiles. “That’s exactly what I need.” She pauses, then makes a face and rolls her eyes. “Shit, I forgot to clock out.” She hands my cigarette back as she turns on her heel.
“1127,” Ryan calls after her. “Clock me out, too, please?”
“Fuck you,” she calls back.
“I said please,” Ryan grumbles, stepping off the picnic table to follow her. I smile and lean back, crossing my feet at the ankles. I’ve been waiting for this moment of peace all day. The full moon hangs low in the sky, illuminating the whitewater on the waves as they break. I exhale, and watch the smoke curl with the sea breeze toward the Sunrise Motel.
A movement on the pool deck catches my eye, and I lean up to follow it, curious. Barefoot, with a white motel towel tucked beneath her arm, a woman winds her way around the deck chairs. The pool closed hours ago, so she can’t be there to swim. She strides through the back gate and down the catwalk to the beach access. When she steps beneath the orange glow of the safety light above the outdoor shower, and places her towel on the railing, I still. Long purple hair tumbles to her waist, in contrast to the stark white tank top hugging the curves of her chest. Her ripped jean shorts sit low on her hips, revealing long, lean legs.Oh fuck.
Leela.
I take another drag from the cigarette, watching as she sets down several small bottles beside the towel. She peels her tank over her head, her hands sliding lower to palm her shorts over her ass and down her legs. She tosses her clothes onto the railing and turns the knob on the shower, stepping beneath the spray in nothing but black lace. She leans into it, water streaming downher body, her eyes closed. I know the water’s cold, but she doesn’t seem to care.
She empties several of the hotel bottles into her hand, and lathers them into her hair, her hands sliding across her wet, soapy skin. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination except how it would feel beneath me.
My skin tingles, and I realize the cigarette has burned down to the junction with my fingers. I quickly snuff it out on the table. When I glance back, she’s arching her body into the spray, the soap running down her body to pool on the wooden planks of the catwalk, illuminated by the moonlight like the whitewater in the ocean. I lick my suddenly parched lips.
The spray stops and she reaches for the towel. I step off the picnic table and wander to the edge of the railing, leaning casually against one of the columns, arms folded across my chest. The movement draws her attention, and our eyes meet across the darkness. She pauses, and I wait for her to react. For embarrassment. For anger. Something. But it’s nothing like that. For a moment, I wonder if she’s as turned on by being watched, as I am watching her.
