Page 174 of La Dolce Vita

“Heather’s Kitchen?” Giovanni slowed the van and made the turn. He parked among other cars in front of a café that faced a busy road.

“I’m going to get us some dinners. Best roasted chicken in the world,” she proclaimed with her brown eyes rounding. She was winging it. She had no plans for them. He glanced to the café and frowned.

“You’re hungry?” he asked. “After all the food we had today?”

“Yeah, and you will be later on. Trust me.”

"Wait here, I'll be right back," she said and got out of the van. Giovanni almost objected, but she was out the door and gone before he could. So he waited. The family had gorged on food all day. His sons had spent a full day being stuffed on everything from burgers to chicken with sauce, and macaroni prepared in a way Giovanni had never tasted pasta. The sweets alone should have had them all in a sugar coma.

“Got it!” she said and returned ten minutes later. She had dinners in styrofoam containers and a plastic bag. “Let’s go.”

“Where too?” he asked.

Mirabella pointed across the street.

“The Red Roof Inn? A hotel?” he asked.

“It’s a motel.”

“What’s the difference?” Giovanni asked.

“Ah, I’m not sure. A motel has exterior rooms. Like those, see. We can park right outside of the room and go inside. A hotel is indoor and can be fancier. I guess a motel is more like a hostel since it's not for luxury, I suppose?"

Giovanni stared at her and then the place. “You want to go there?”

"C'mon, it's our night. We just need a room, alone. You and me. How is that a bad thing?”

He smiled. He started the engine and drove them across the street. He parked in front of the reception area.

“Go get us a room, go on,” she said.

Giovanni shook his head. He got out of the van and walked around it. His wife stared at him from inside. He pulled up on the door and went inside. The lobby was empty. There was a kid no more than twenty behind the counter. He approached, and the young man pushed up the glasses perched at the tip of his nose.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?” the young man asked.

“No. I need a room for the night. Have any vacancies?”

“From out of town?” the kid asked. “I can tell by your accent.”

“How much for a room?” Giovanni asked.

“Ah, sixty-five dollars a night, sir,” the kid answered.

“Then give me one.” Giovanni removed his passport from his back pocket and tossed it on top of the counter. He put a hundred-dollar American bill on top. The young man nodded and began to tap away at the little keyboard behind the counter. Giovanni glanced around. The place was definitely like the hostels he owned in Napoli. Not a place he thought worthy of his wife.

“Welcome to Apple Grove. Your room is around the corner. It’s 172.”

Two cards were put on the counter for him. He picked them up.

“Ah, sir, you have to sign,” the young man called after him. He glanced back at the boy and then the paper and pen. He walked over and gave his signature.

"Check out is at noon if you can return the key card it's appreciated."

“Grazie,” Giovanni said.

The young man nodded and smiled as if Giovanni were a celebrity. He suspected they didn’t get many visitors in Apple Grove. So, who were the people that stayed at a ‘motel’? He wondered. And then he walked outside to the van and received his answer. A car pulled up behind his van. A black man in some kind of workman’s cap and boots got out. A young black woman in a tiny mini skirt, a bra for her shirt and too much makeup got out from the passenger side. The two started for the doors. The young woman gave him a passing wink. Giovanni frowned. He glanced to Mirabella who smiled at him from inside of the van. He marched around and got back inside with her.

“Do you know what this place is?”

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