Page 16 of Hex and the City
“Why wait?” He pointed at the passenger side door. “I suggest you leave now.”
“Listen,” I said, reaching for the seatbelt, strapping myself in. “I know you don’t like me, and I’m pretty sure I don’t like you. But you have a point. We should work on this together.”
“When did I say that?” He gripped the steering wheel so hard I could hear it squeaking. “When did I ever say that?”
“And you’re totally right,” I said, adjusting the angle of the passenger seat, sighing in pleasure as I leaned into the plush cushions. “We should totally split the reward.”
“Stop saying things! Stop putting words in my mouth.”
Something buzzed inside my pants pocket. Another text message? I reached for my phone. Max pulled his out, too. I was right. Another missive from the Jade Spider.
My eyes scanned the screen. I could tell that Max’s temper was mounting with every word he read, even as the same message filled me with excitement and glee.
“Hey,” I said, poking him in the thigh. “Hey, Max. Are we doing this?”
Maximilian Drake threw his head back, groaned as loud as he possibly could, and accepted his fate.
He stepped on the gas.
8
MAX
“Oh, wow,” Leon said, poking his head through the door and glancing around the motel room. “Not saying I have the highest standards, because I live in the worst apartment in the world. But this place? Now, this place is a dump.”
“Thank you for the review.” I scowled at him, pointing into the room. “Will you shut up and get in here already? Quit complaining. I charged it to my card. We’re not here for comfort. It’s a matter of convenience.”
Leon rolled his eyes, his feet plodding heavily as he walked in. “Listen, I already told you. I’ll pay you back for the room when we collect the reward.”
“If,” I said, pushing the door shut, sliding the bolt, then the second bolt, and the third bolt on the chain, too. “If we collect the reward.”
“See, that’s your problem,” Leon said, dropping his backpack onto the bed closer to the window. “You’re so grumpy and negative all the time. I can’t tell if you’re only doing it because you really are just a sourpuss, or because you somehow know that I’m into damaged boys.”
My lips quivered as I reached for something to say. I was stammering, except without words. The motel room’s one saving grace was how it was warm and toasty. But under my leather jacket, my body was blazing.
He chuckled, heading for the electric kettle. “Don’t worry, I’m kidding.”
I pursed my lips, chewed on the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t decide if I was more annoyed or disappointed. I placed my duffel bag carefully on the other bed, the one beside the bathroom. As lightly as I’d set it down, the bed frame still made an ominous squeak.
The duffel bag normally lived its life in the trunk of my car, filled with spare clothes and toiletries in case I needed to stay somewhere that wasn’t my perfect apartment on short notice. I changed out the clothes with freshly laundered ones every few months, just in case, because I wasn’t an animal.
Didn’t everyone keep a go-bag in the trunk? Wasn’t that normal? Leon didn’t, apparently, more or less living out of the threadbare backpack he carried around everywhere. Something told me that he preferred life away from what he called home, at least based on that throwaway comment about his crappy apartment.
As if we couldn’t be more opposite. It’d take something earth-shatteringly important to pry me out of my humble abode on any regular weeknight. This was definitely one of those occasions.
The Jade Spider’s text message had been simple, if cryptic. A source had informed her that another anomaly was very likely to occur in that derelict courtyard we could see right outside our motel window. I stepped up to it, parting the grimy, once-white curtains to take a look for myself.
Naranja Plaza used to be a popular destination in what was once a thriving commercial district. Terra cotta tiling everywhere, lush greenery growing out of beautiful clay pots, a free public venue that transformed into a bustling craft and farmer’s market on the weekends.
Shops and eateries sprouted up all around the plaza, taking advantage of the crowds drawn to this last haven in a rapidly developing city, a refreshing splash of reddish-brown and green amid all the gray. I even hung out down there as a teenager, on rare trips into town with my parents, sometimes with my cousins.
But time changed everything. Naranja Plaza fell into disuse, and now it was just a dusty, faded orange square filled with broken tiles, choked with vines and overgrowth.
One by one the surrounding businesses shuttered, until all that remained were this crappy motel and the potentially poisonous coffee shop across the way. Whoever owned the property probably figured it would cost less to let the plaza fester than to break down the foundations and sell the land.
So strange to think that this place was once teeming with activity, families out on picnics, people shopping for gourmet treats and knickknacks. Nobody came to Naranja Plaza anymore, unless it was to find an abandoned corner to smoke crack, maybe fuck in the bushes. It looked so depressing. And by night, almost frightening.
“Wow, you can see Big Gwen all the way from here.”
