Page 12 of Starting Over

“That looks nothing like what I saw online.”

“Really?” he asked, peering through the windshield.

“Well, I mean, the size and shape are the same, but the rest of it is shit.”

I climbed out of the truck, my eyes glued to the building in disbelief, as King pulled up beside us.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” King asked.

“Not even close. I can’t stay here.”

Was this even safe? Despite looking like a crack house, I was more concerned about what I couldn’t see living on the furniture in the rooms. “Is there another place nearby?”

“Not within an hour I’m afraid.”

I turned and stared at the motel. It was two stories, but looked like it only had about twenty rooms. The paint was so faded that if I hadn’t seen the pictures online, I never would have guessed it was supposed to be blue. Three rooms had boarded-up windows, and two more had plywood blocking off the doors.

“How does this place stay in business?” I asked to myself.

“By the hour,” King said next to me.

Looking up at him, I asked, “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh. Ok, I have to do something else. I can’t stay here.”

“Why don’t you stay at the clubhouse tonight?” King offered.

“The clubhouse?”

“Yea, we got a few extra rooms. I can call ahead and have one of the girls get one ready. Tomorrow, I can give you a ride to meet with Kristy about your house.”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I paid for two weeks here, thinking I could stay until I had the bedroom done in the house. But my skin is itching just looking at this place.”

“Come on, you can stay as long as you like. Let’s go in and get your money back.”

“They don’t give refunds,” I stated, following King inside.

King and Tank walked me inside, and Tank rapped on the plexiglass partition.

“The lady needs a refund. She ain’t staying in this shithole,” King declared.

Without turning around, the guy pointed to the sign and reiterated what I said outside.

“No refunds.”

“Joey, turn the fuck around,” King growled.

Joey, the kid behind the plexiglass, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, spun in his chair, and his face paled as soon as he realized who he was looking at.

“Uh, King, um...”

“Not playing, Joey. Refund her money so we can get out of here.”

“Mr. Kelley will have my ass if I do that, King. I can’t lose this job. I need it.”

“You let me worry about Mr. Kelley. Refund her money.”

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