“That sucks and sorry she did that to you.”
“Nah, it’s all good, I got myself a good woman now, can’t cook for shit but she’s a dynamite in bed, so…”
“…You just order takeout.” He burst out laughing and said,
“I knew I liked you.”
“And dare I ask what happened to the brother and the ex bitch?” He grinned in a dangerous way and told me,
“She’s still a bitch breathing if that’s what you mean.”
“And the asshole brother?” I enquired although I had no clue why or if I really wanted to know.
“And the brother’s breathing but not walking so straight after I broke both his kneecaps.” I looked back at the broken guys that were left and who were now either shaking it off or being put in a car and driven to what I assumed was a ‘Vet’, who took human jobs on the side. Then I lifted my hands up and said,
“Hey, I am clearly not one to judge here.” He grunted a laugh and said,
“Shit, no you ain’t.” I winked and opened the door to my new car before sliding in behind the wheel. Then I wound down the window and nodded to the Ferrari and said,
“Nice doing business with you, Big B.”
“Painful doing business with you too…hey, but you got a name, Dollface?” I put the key in the ignition and started her up. Then I revved the black beast until she roared and said,
“Big B, you can call me…”
“Little Dodge.”
Chapter 8
Heartbreak Hotel
After this I sped off into the night, drowning out the sound of my heart breaking as I thought about Lucius, doing so with the roaring sounds of a V8 engine as I floored it along the highway. My new identity now sat in the glovebox along with a new license and passport. When Big B had said to give me the works, he hadn’t been kidding as I even had the car ‘registered’ in my new name. His guy, Jimmy, had come through in a big way and it had to be said that he had been a master at his craft.
Although, finding out that Jimmy was in fact seventeen years old, lived in his mother’s basement and was clearly a computer hacker on the side, wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting. But then I also hadn’t expected to be shown in by his sweet wholesome looking mother or finding myself stepping over empty pop tart boxes as I navigated the steps down to his ‘apartment’. Something the skinny seventeen-year-old obviously thought was a nutritional staple in life, that and power drinks. The pyramid of pop tart boxes in the corner and the four toasters sat on top of a large glass cooler filled with cans, being the biggest indicator.
Then again, the freshly baked cookies his mother brought down for us was a nice touch, even though I did kind of want to ask her if she believed her son had made good life choices…you know, considering that her son worked for the bad guys.
However, when she mentioned that her Jimmy would help get me a good grade on my paper, I took a few things from this. One, she either had some major denial going on that may have been aided by drugs or I looked a lot younger than I was in what she must have thought was me wearing a school uniform.
Either way, neither of these things explained why I was in her basement at three in the morning and she thought it a good time to make cookies. Needless to say, the drugs theory won over my youthful looks…besides, I had seen myself in the mirror lately and knew that after the day I’d just had, then let’s just say that cracks were starting to show.
Not that Jimmy would have noticed. In fact, the kid barely even acknowledged me as a new presence in his life…period. In fact, I think that I would have received more of a reaction out of him had I been dressed as a giant pop tart doing a sexy dance and juggling soda cans, than the tired, slightly slutty looking flight attendant I looked. Clearly this kid wasn’t being ruled by his hormones, that was for damn sure. Nope, it was nothing but sugar and binary code running through this kid’s veins. Although, why he had asked Big B if I had been hot was anyone’s guess. Maybe he had been too scared off by the bitten dick comment to even acknowledge me.
Whatever the reason, other than looking at me long enough to flash a quick picture and ask me what I wanted my new name to be, that was pretty much the extent of my stay. Meaning that I had been back in my car in no time at all with a new life in my hands and a free cookie.
“Seriously, could this night get anymore fucked up?” I asked myself out loud, allowing the sound of my car starting up to be my only answer. Because after this, I had driven for another hour before I found that I could keep going no longer. Which was why I pulled off the 85 after seeing signs for Bluestone Wild Forest and forgoing the Best Western for something cheaper. For starters, I didn’t know how long my money would last, so knew I needed to be conservative with my funds. Which meant that the end of my night was signaled by the rumbling burble of the exhaust as I pulled into the free space at the cheap hotel passing a sign for the Kingston Plaza.
“Great, just had to be a King in there somewhere,” I muttered to myself after getting out of the car and stretching before shivering in the freezing early morning air. After this I grabbed my bag and got myself a room, ignoring the questioning looks I received from the receptionist, that clearly spoke of how much I needed caffeine almost as much as I needed a bed. I knew this when she gave me one of those judging looks up and down, so I couldn’t help myself after I too looked down at myself, seeing what she saw, which admittedly was a mess. That’s when I told her,
“It was a Hell of a flight.” Then with a shrug of my shoulders I grabbed my keycard and pulled my case along, fully intent on getting my tired ass to my room as quickly as possible. Once inside I spent all of about thirty seconds taking in the blue carpet, basic furniture and bedding that had large bright blue circles over it that gave me a headache after only five of those seconds allocated. Then I dropped my bag, took a deep shuddering breath, knowing I had finally made it and quickly ran to the toilet so I could throw up nothing but bile.
After this I let my emotional wall come crashing down all around me, starting with vomiting and ending with me slumped down against the wall sobbing uncontrollably. I knew I was being too loud, so raised my hand to put a fist in my mouth when I suddenly spotted the blood on my fingers. This was such a sobering sight that suddenly I burst into hysterical laughter that I knew marked the sign for both exhaustion and stress.
Which was when I found myself stood at the sink, first looking down at my hands and then back up at my face. Now seeing the tear tracks were back, and although they were clear this time, they were still far too visible as they continued to run down my face, dripping to the sink from my chin.
So, I calmly removed my glasses, folding them gently before placing them on the counter. Then I first scrubbed at my hands before I went about washing my face. And I did this quietly, even methodically, all the while the tears didn’t stop, but they just continued to run down my cheeks, silently continuing despite how many times I tried to wash them away.
In the end I gave up trying what seemed like a hopeless endeavor. No, instead I cupped my hands, drank down as much as I could to rid myself the bitter taste of bile and undressed. I decided it wasn’t a good idea to shower for fear I would fall asleep, slip and crack my head open. And seriously, after everything I had survived over the last few weeks, then dying in a two-star hotel from being clumsy wasn’t exactly how I would have imagined going out.