1950s, Fort Lauderdale, Florida
It had been four days since that rotten bastard had taken off with everything he owned.
Somehow, he’d made his way to the downtown area, had been sleeping behind businesses and eating out of dumpsters. He had been racking his brain trying to figure out how he was going to survive with only the clothes on his back. He was big for his age and could try to get a job, but it wasn’t likely that he’d be hired looking and smelling like he did. He just needed to figure out a way to get his hands on some cash so he could get himself cleaned up and have a decent meal. Maybe then he could think clearer.
He thought about stealing the money. He could mug someone or even break into a business at night and raid the register, but he realized that the fear of getting caught and being connected to his family’s disappearance scared him more than being hungry. He’d been hungry before. He’d figure this out.
He was walking along the sidewalk and looking down when he collided with someone.
“Stupid son-of-a-bitch. Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you stupid ass?”
He realized he’d knocked over an old man who had been carrying his packages out of the post office. He was trying to get himself up and still cussing when the boy extended his hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Sorry, mister. Didn’t see you. Can I help you carry your stuff to your car?”
“Yeah.” The old man dusted off the seat of his pants and pointed to a car. “That one’s mine.”
He watched as the kid effortlessly scooped up the dropped boxes and easily strode to his car. He hobbled over and unlocked the trunk. The boy put the boxes in the trunk and slammed it shut.
“Anything else I can do for you, mister?”
Just then, the old man caught a whiff of him. “Holy shit, you stink, kid. Don’t your parents let you take a bath? Maybe you oughta go jump in a fountain or something.”
The boy didn’t say anything, just looked at the ground.
“What’s your story, kid?” the old man asked with a suspicious gleam in his eye.
“No story. Just looking for work to help out my family.” The boy looked up and met the old man’s gaze.
The old man was startled by the kid’s bright green eyes. They were intelligent eyes and the old man knew that they held a secret.
He knew because he had secrets of his own.
**********
Two months earlier: The Glades Motel
The old man had just come out of unit seven. He’d had one visitor to the motel that week and they had just left. He didn’t have any employees, so it was up to him to clean up the room. He didn’t have to. He had other rooms that were clean, but he considered himself a bit fussy, and having one dirty room would’ve bothered him.
He didn’t get many visitors out here. He’d made a bad business decision on a friend’s tip years ago that a highway would be coming through to connect the two Florida coasts. His friend had told him that being the first motel out there would make him a fortune. What it had made him was a lonely and bitter old man who’d wasted his life and savings waiting for a highway that hadn’t been built yet. When he did get a visitor, it was usually somebody who’d gotten lost in the middle of the night and would rent a room with the intention of starting fresh in the morning.
He had his back to the open door and was busy vacuuming when a voice startled him. He turned around and noticed a very well dressed man with a suitcase in one hand and a large bag in the other.
“I saw the vacancy sign. Can I get a room?”
The old man hadn’t heard the car pull up because of the vacuum.
“Sure can. This one just became ready. How long you staying?” he asked his new guest.
“Don’t know, yet. Any place out here to get food?” the smartly dressed man asked.
The old man told him the closest restaurant was miles away and back toward the beach. He quickly added, “I got plenty of food, though. I’d be glad to share my meals with you. You hungry now? I can get you a sandwich. Was fixing to get myself one as soon as I was done here.”
He looked at the man hopefully. He’d lost more than one visitor because of the remoteness of his motel. He’d learned to offer a homemade meal as a way to keep them from leaving to look for a more convenient place to stay.
He really didn’t mind. He had to feed himself anyway. He was getting old, though, and it was harder to fix a little fancier meal for a guest than he would’ve fixed for just himself. Hopefully, this guy wouldn’t mind a sandwich and a beer.
Truth be told, the old man didn’t really need guests. He had no debt and his living expenses were minimal. He had just enough saved to help with the bills when guests were too few and far between.
“Sure. A sandwich sounds good,” the man told him.
The old man pulled his vacuum cleaner out on to the sidewalk and told the new guest to make himself comfortable.
“I’ll get you some clean towels and some food. You can come sign the register later.”
“Can you bring me the towels now? I could use a shower and I’ll come find you so I can register and take you up on that sandwich.”
He had already delivered the towels and was now making his new guest a sandwich. The guy seemed nice. He hoped he would stay longer than one night, but it was doubtful. They’d made some small talk when he brought back the fresh towels. He was an insurance salesman and spent most of his days on the road. Had a wife and two daughters. He didn’t get to spend much time with them because his job kept him on the road, but the more insurance he sold, the bigger his commissions.
He decided to surprise his guest by having a cold beer and the sandwich waiting for him when he got out of the shower. He grabbed his ring of master keys and made his way down the walkway. He knocked and when there was no answer he figured his guest must still be in the bathroom. Good.
He let himself in the room and set the food and beer down on the dresser. He started to walk out when the large bag on the bed caught his attention. It was one of those big bags that a soldier might use, made of a heavy tan canvas-type material with one long zipper down the middle. Whatever was in it was causing the bag to bulge out as if it had been filled to capacity. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as an odd piece of luggage for the insurance salesman to have with him.
His curiosity got the best of him and he found himself unzipping it. His eyes widened when he realized what was inside.
It was filled to the brim with neat stacks of tightly clad money. A gun was laying on top.
“You shouldn’t have come back in here.”
The old man flinched when he realized his guest had come out of the bathroom. He was standing at the door holding a towel around his waist with one hand. Steam from the bathroom slowly floated out into the air and added an almost sinister effect to the scene.
“What did you do? Rob a bank?”
“You should’ve minded your own business, old man.” He dropped the towel and made a quick lunge toward the bag. He was going for his gun.
With reflexes that he didn’t even know he had, the old man reached for the gun, aimed, and fired.
It took him forever to load up the body and all of his guest’s personal belongings into the man’s car. He was old and had been a chain smoker since he was ten. The task was daunting, and the only thing that drove him to finish the task was the fear of another guest showing up and catching him. That probably wasn’t a real fear, but with his luck, it’d be a bunch of coppers getting lost on their way to a convention.
He drove the car as far out into the swamp as he knew he could go and walk himself back safely. Even after the drive he was still winded from all of the work, and he allowed himself to catch his breath as he watched the car slowly sinking. He would carry the gun with him back to the motel. He’d need it in case he came across any gators.
While he walked back, he would try to figure out what to do with all that money.
One thing he knew for certain. He couldn’t spend it for a while. He didn’t know who, if anybody, would come looking for this guy. He would hide the money and give himself some time to make a plan.
**********
“I can give you some work, but I’m way out in the middle of nowhere. You have a ride?” the old man asked the kid as they stood outside the car.
“No. I can hitch though.”
“You ain’t gonna be able to hitch a ride to my place. Nobody comes out there. Sorry.” He started to walk towards the driver’s side of the car to get in.
The boy followed him. “Maybe I can stay with you. I don’t need to sleep in your house or anything. I can camp in your yard, if that’s okay. I’ll work hard for you.”
The old man eyed him warily. This kid didn’t have a family. He was probably a runaway.
“You in trouble with the law? Someone looking for you?”
“No, sir. Just fallen on hard times. No family, and I probably don’t have to tell you that orphanages are worse than living on the street.”
“So, you’re a liar,” the old man added, not unkindly. “You told me you needed a job to help out your family.”
He didn’t expect the kid to answer. The truth was, he didn’t give a shit. And he really could use help at the motel. He was getting old, and even though he rarely had guests, there was still a lot of upkeep. At the rate he was going, he would die before he could spend all that money. He could use some muscle to take care of the shit jobs like keeping up with yard work, repairs, even the pool. Heck, maybe the kid even knew how to cook.
He didn’t give the boy a chance to answer his last accusation. “Got a name?”
The boy looked at the ground.
“What should I call you? Boy?”
The kid’s head snapped up and his green eyes were cold. “You can call me anything but ‘boy,’ mister. Don’t call me boy.”
“Well, how does Ralph work for you? Can I call you Ralph?”
“Ralph will be fine, mister.”
“And I don’t go by mister. You can call me Pop. Now get in the car and roll down the fucking window. You smell like a dead dog that’s been laying in the sun for a week.