Jordan
I click the mouse, moving the red six-of-hearts and everything underneath it to the black seven-of-clubs. Then I turn over the new card, clicking it twice, and watching the Ace automatically slide up to a free cell.
After nine weeks I’ve gotten pretty good at this game. Danni keeps suggesting I learn poker or blackjack or maybe even get into some online gaming with people from around the world, but I’m not that cool. I like playing alone. Just something to keep my brain occupied. It’s been an eventful summer vacation, too. I’ve won about three-hundred-fifty games out of four hundred, and I only lost that many, because I kept playing too late and would fall asleep, letting my battery die.
I actually feel quite pathetic when I let myself think about how I’ve spent hours and hours over this gorgeous summer. But then I just start a new game, and I stop thinking about it.
The bell on the lobby door chimes, and I look up, seeing a young man in a black pullover and jeans walk in, heading for the front desk.
I slide off my stool and stand. I’m always nervous when we get customers this late. The motel sits on an old highway without a lot of businesses or lights. Most people stick to the Interstate, especially when it’s dark out like this, and those who don’t kind of make me wonder.
But hey, it’s business.
“Hi.” I smile. “Welcome to The Blue Palms.”
He steps up to the counter, and my smile falters, seeing the huge wing tattooed on his neck with the words The Devil Doesn’t Sleep etched in black ink. This is a pretty conservative area. He can’t be local.
“Hi.” He meets my eyes but only for a second. “How many vacant rooms do you have?”
“Um…” I look in the cubbies and count the keys to make sure. “Six,” I tell him.
He nods, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, I assume. “I’ll take five. For one night, please.”
Five? I don’t think we’ve been this close to No Vacancies since I got here. What does he need all those rooms for?
Not that I’m complaining, though. We need the business.
The Blue Palms, owned by my friend Danni and her family, sits on a nearly deserted road, the new interstate put in twenty years ago making business very hard to come by these days. The only people who seem to know we’re here are the townies, the relatives of townies traveling in to visit, and bikers looking for a more authentic experience by riding the old highways.
I’m glad I came to help out, though. Danni’s been begging me for years to visit, and it’s been a throwback to spend another summer with her. She and I won scholarships to a sleepaway camp when we were twelve and have been keeping in touch long distance ever since. I’ve always wanted to match the place where so many of her quirky and sexy stories come from with my mental picture.
The customer hands me his I.D., and I take it.
“Thanks,” I say, propping it up on the keyboard to register the rooms to him.
The door suddenly swings open again, the bell ringing, and I hear a demanding voice bark, “We need food!”
I look up, seeing three women standing at the door and notice a few more outside. I don’t see any other men. My eyes fall down their attire, and next to them, my sister’s clothes at The Hook seem prudish. Hair, make-up, heels…
I shoot my eyes to the guy and see him blink long and hard, looking aggravated. He picks through the paper menus stuffed in the board on the wall and takes out a few from different places.
“Do these restaurants deliver?” he asks, setting them down and pulling a wad of bills out of his wallet.
“Yeah, all of them.”
He holds up the menus with the cash, and one of the girls jogs up and snatches everything out of his hands.
“I want receipts and change,” he orders, not looking at her.
She makes a face at him behind his back and then she disappears outside with the others.
I feel compelled to warn him. This place has an unofficial code of conduct, and Danni’s pretty strict about shenanigans. They’ve scraped by here for a long time, but the town is looking at developing this property. She doesn’t want to give them an excuse to want this place gone.
“This is a pretty quiet, family-oriented place,” I tell him, slowly typing in his name and address. “Parties aren’t allowed, so just an FYI…”
He looks at me, his dark sandalwood eyes almost amused. “They’re my sisters,” he says.
I bite back my smile and focus on my work again. Sure. If those are his sisters, then I’m his mom.
But he certainly seemed pretty annoyed by them like a brother would be, I guess.
I place the keys on the counter—with the old-fashioned, rounded diamonds for key chains—and print off the contract to sign.
“The pool closes at ten,” I tell him. “The ice and vending machines are between the two buildings, and there’s a laundromat across the way there.” I glance at him and point behind him, outside. “Front desk is open twenty-four hours. Let us know if you need anything. And that’ll be two-hundred-eight-dollars-and-forty-two cents, please.”
But as I place a pen on top of the contract and wait for his response, I see that he’s not even listening to me. He’s staring at the neon sign on the wall to his right and the quote written in script…
Well, they’re nothing like Billy and me…
His stern expression breaks into a small smile all of a sudden as he stares at the sign, a mixed look of wonder and confusion on his face as if a memory is playing in his head. I glance at the sign again, Danni’s obsession with 90’s music the bane of my existence all summer. It’s a quote from a Sheryl Crow song, and I never asked her if it meant anything, because then she’d play the song, and I’d suffer.
“Sir?” I say.
He blinks, turning to me, still seeming disoriented for a moment.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes it off and opens his wallet again. “How much is it?”
“Two-oh-eight-forty-two,” I tell him.
He hands me three-hundred-dollar bills, and there’s a sign that says we don’t take bills larger than fifty, but seeing the unnerving pile of cash in his wallet, I don’t feel like ruffling his feathers. I take the money and get his change.
He taps on the counter as he waits, and I realize he’s matching the rhythm of The Distance by Cake that Danni has playing on the speakers in the lobby.
“Oh, don’t do that,” I joke, handing him his change. “You’ll encourage the owner. I’m trying to convince her the playlist is driving away customers.”
He takes the money and shoots me a look. “Nineties music is the best. It’s when people told the truth.”
I curl the corner of my mouth, not arguing further. He clearly drank the same Kool-Aid as she did.
“Thanks,” he says, swiping up the keys.
I hand him back his I.D. and watch him leave. Outside, he doles out the room keys to all the ladies, and after a moment, they all make their way to their rooms. I’m half-tempted to go to the window and see if he goes in with one of them. Or five of them. Very curious.
“Was that a customer?” Danni says behind me, and I glance back, seeing her walk into the office. Her apartment, where she resides with her grandmother, sits behind the office, so it’s easy to run and check on her when she needs.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “He got five rooms for the night, and he’s traveling with at least half a dozen women, so have fun on the night shift.”
She snorts and walks up, picking up the contract. “Tyler Durden?” she reads his name, squinting through her glasses.
I nod, pulling a stray brown hair off her flannel shirt. She even dresses 90s.
“Didn’t you get I.D.?” She makes a face at me. “It’s a fake name.”
“His I.D. said Tyler Durden,” I shoot back. “Why do you think it’s a fake name?”
“Tyler Durden is a lead character in Fight Club,” she spits out like I’m an idiot. “The best movie of the 90s, and one of the best books ever. It’s disturbing that you don’t know that, Jordan.”
I laugh, shaking my head. She might only be a year older than me, but we’re worlds apart in interests.
Fight Club.
My smile falls, and I drop my eyes, turning back to the computer. I’ve seen the movie, but the name didn’t register. And I’ve seen it recently, too, with Pike…
I swallow, my chest growing tight. Dammit. I’ve done really well the last few weeks, turning my attention elsewhere, so I don’t think about him. It was hard at first, but not seeing him every day made it easier. It was right to leave like I did.
But every once in a while, he’ll pop up in my head when I make taco dip for Danni during a long Saturday shift or hear a song or when I see my raincoat and the splatters of mud still on it from him and me playing around. I haven’t even lit any candles, because I don’t know what to wish for when I have to blow them out.
To wish to feel like I did with him gives him power over me again, but deep down, that’s all I still really want.
To feel that good again.
It’ll just have to be with someone else now.
“So…” Danni pulls up another stool. “Don’t your fall classes start up soon?”
I click off the Free Cell game, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah.”
She waits for me to say more, but I’m not really sure what to say. My financial aid came in, so classes are paid for, and I have enough to get an apartment back home, but it almost feels like taking a step backward. He called when I first left, but after a few days it stopped, and there’s been nothing since.
I hate to admit it, but I wonder far too often what he’s doing, if he’s seeing anyone, if he misses me…
If I go home, I may run into him. What will that be like?
I’m proud of myself that I’ve stayed away, but I still feel ashamed that he’s there in my head, lingering all the time. I’m not over him, and until I can blow out a candle and have something better to wish for, I don’t think my head is in the right place to go back yet. I’m scared.
“You know you can stay forever,” Danni goes on. “Seriously. My college isn’t bad at all. You can transfer.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “But I need to go back. I know I do. I’ve just been putting off thinking about it.”
“You don’t want to see him.”
I meet her eyes, her black-rimmed glasses falling down her nose again.
“I don’t want to be who I was when I left,” I clarify.
“You’re not.” She leans an elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re allowed to hurt. But you didn’t allow it to keep you down,” she points out. “That’s what makes us strong. You haven’t called him, and we had some fun. He didn’t ruin your summer, because you didn’t let him.”
Yeah. We got drunk at the pond, rocked out to bad music as we raced around town in her ’92 Pontiac Sunbird convertible, and had some pool parties here. I laughed a little.
“And it’s not like he tracked me down, either, so…” I tell her. “I guess we both knew it was borrowed time. It was just a fling. He was right.”
A fling.
A cool story I’ll have fun looking back on when I no longer love him, and I can appreciate it for the sex it was.
I feel her eyes on me, because she knows I’m lying to myself, but like a friend, she lets me dive into my delusion. We need lies to survive sometimes, because the truth hurts too much.
Maybe a transfer would be a good idea, after all.
I stand up. “The printer needs paper,” I tell her.
And without looking at her, I walk into the back office, blinking away the burn in my eyes before she sees. I’m not going to cry. I can’t hide here forever, after all. Northridge is my home, my family is there, and I have to go back at some point. I can do it.
“Hi.” I hear Danni sing-song. “Welcome to The Blue Palms.”
I laugh to myself. The Blue Palms are a set of neon palm trees outside that aren’t real and certainly aren’t native to Virginia. But I like the tropical colors of this place, the retro pinks and blues, and the old-style, beachy charm. It might not have the amenities of the larger hotels, but it’s private, clean, and nostalgic. It has character.
“Uh, thanks,” a male voice says. “Um…”
I open the cabinet, grabbing a ream of paper, their muffled voices carrying on in the lobby. I hope he only needs one room, because for once, we’re about sold out.
“Jordan Hadley?” Danni says more loudly as if repeating him.
I halt with the paper in my arm and the cabinet still open.
“Yeah,” the man says, and I inch closer to the doorway to better hear. “I’m sorry to bug you. Does she work here? I was told she worked at a motel in the area, and I’ve been almost everywhere.”
The vein in my neck throbs, and I can only manage short, shallow breaths.
“And you are?” Danni probes.
“Pike Lawson,” he answers. “A friend.”
My arms give way, and I nearly drop the package of paper.
“Pike…” she repeats. “Like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”
“Huh?”
“1992 cult classic?” Danni explains. “Luke Perry? His name is Pike in the movie?”
Normally I would laugh at her verbal diarrhea, but my head is swimming and my stomach is doing somersaults. He’s here? He’s really here?
There’s silence for a moment, and then Pike asks, “So, does Jordan work here? I really need to see her.”
He sounds vulnerable, his voice making me realize I missed him even more than I thought I did.
But somewhere inside, my strength grows, and I steel my spine, ready to show him I’m not going to hide from him. I don’t know why he’s here, but if he tries to make demands again like when I tried to move back with my dad, I don’t feel like it will be hard for me to stand up and stay defiant. He won’t tell me what to do.
No matter how hard he tries.
Stepping out from behind the corner, I enter the lobby, seeing Pike standing on the other side of the counter. His gaze immediately locks on me.
He inhales a breath and just stares, his body rigid.
I take in his black T-shirt and deeper tan, like he’s had a full summer working outdoors, and my heart flutters at the sight of those piercing and warm hazel eyes and big hands that have picked me up and carried me half a dozen times. He looks taller, but I know he hasn’t grown, of course.
Danni hops off her stool. “I’ll just…go check on my grandma,” she says and quietly walks past me, to her apartment.
Pike stands between the front door and desk, fisting his hands at his sides and looking like he’s about to move forward but doesn’t.
I walk to the desk and set the paper down. “What?” I ask.
But again, he just stands there like he’s in a trance.
The back of my neck breaks out in a sweat, and I’m getting nervous. Why is he just standing there, staring at me? “What do you want?” I press, my tone curt.
He opens his mouth but then closes it swallowing.
“Pike, Jesus—”
“The day you left,” he blurts out, and I stop.
I wait, listening as a look of fear crosses his eyes.
“The house was so empty,” he continues. “Like a quiet that was never there before. I couldn’t hear your footsteps upstairs or your hairdryer or anticipate you walking into a room. You were gone. Everything was…” he drops his eyes, “gone.”
A ball lodges in my throat, and I feel tears threaten, but I tense my jaw, refusing to let it out.
“But I could still feel you,” he whispers. “You were still everywhere. The container of cookies in the fridge, the backsplash you picked out, the way you put all my pictures back in the wrong spot after you dusted my bookshelves.” He smiles to himself. “But I couldn’t rearrange them, because you were the last to touch them, and I wanted everything the way you had it.”
My chin trembles, and I fold my arms over my chest, hiding my balled fists under my arms.
He pauses and then goes on. “Nothing would ever go back to the way it was before you came into my house. I didn’t want it to.” He shakes his head. “I went to work, and I came home, and I stayed there every night and all weekend, every weekend, because that’s where we were together. That’s where I could still feel you.” He steps closer, dropping his voice. “That’s where I could wrap myself up in you and hang on to every last thread in that house that proved you were mine for just a little while.”
His tone grows thick, and I see his eyes water.
“I really thought I was doing what was best,” he says, knitting his brow. “I thought I was taking advantage of you, because you’re young and beautiful and so happy and hopeful despite everything you’d been through. You made me feel like the world was a big place again.”
My breathing shakes, and I don’t know what to do. I hate that he’s here. I hate that I love that he’s here. I hate him.
“I couldn’t steal your life from you and keep you to myself, you know?” he explains. “But then I realized that you’re not happy or hopeful or making me feel good because you’re young. You are those things and you’re capable of those things, because you’re a good person. It’s who you are.”
A tear spills over, gliding down my cheek.
“Baby,” he whispers, his hands shaking. “I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I’m going to want you the rest of my life. I tried to stay away, because I thought it was the right thing, but I fucking can’t. I need you, and I love you. This doesn’t happen twice, and I’m not going to be stupid again. I promise.”
My chin trembles, and something lodges in my throat, and I try to hold it in, but I can’t. My face cracks, and I break down, turning away from him. The tears come like a goddamn waterfall, and I hate him. I fucking hate him.
His arms are around me in a second, and he hugs me from behind, burying his face in my neck.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he whispers in my ear.
“You did,” I cry. “You took so long.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” He turns me around and clutches my face, pressing his lips to my ear. “I promise.”
He holds me for a while, and my pride tells me not to give in. Not to let anyone in and no more second chances.
But I’m not completely certain I wouldn’t do the same thing if I were in his shoes. Cole, Lindsay, Shel, my sister, Dutch, the whole neighborhood…they’ll talk. Some will judge him for this. His fear is justified.
But they don’t know. They don’t know how lucky we are and how good it is.
I love him.
I pull away and wipe at my tear drops on his T-shirt. “And I didn’t put the picture frames back in the wrong spot,” I tell him. “That’s where they belong.”
He laughs, wiping away the tears on my face, and brings me in, kissing me. Everything floods back—his mouth, soft but strong, and his taste—and kiss him back, rising up on my tiptoes to deepen it.
“Need a room?” someone chimes in. “You came to the right place.”
I pull away again, and Pike clears his throat as Danni walks in and sits back on the stool.
“Pike, this is Danni,” I say. “Danni, Pike.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says.
“Yeah, you, too.” He holds out his hand, and they shake.
“So, do you guys want a room?” she asks again. “On the house?”
She pulls the last room key out of the cubbie and holds it out.
He leans over, taking it. “Thank you. Really. That’d be great.”
She shifts her gaze to me, and I can tell she’s looking for confirmation that everything is okay. I nod, assuring her.
“Well, have a good night,” she tells us. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Pike takes my hand, and we walk outside, the humid August air already damp on my arms. He clutches me like he’s going to lose me as we walk to his truck and retrieve his duffel bag and a little package. I laugh, seeing mud still all over his door and the tires.
Walking to the room, I pass the five I doled out to “Tyler” and his ladies, and I can hear music, chatter, and laughing from inside several of them. We pass another room with curtains drawn, but light from the TV pierces the fabric.
Up the sidewalk, one of the regulars, Peter, walks to the Coke machine with a sword strapped to his naked back and wearing his usual black leather pants.
“What the hell is that?” Pike mumbles to me, looking at him.
“That’s Peter,” I say, admiring the black hair that drapes damn-near down to his waist. “He’s here every weekend, LARPing.”
Pike pinches his brows together and looks at me.
“Live Action Role Playing,” I explain. “Sometimes he brings a beautiful Elvish princess and they get kinky. You can hear it through the walls.”
He snorts as we reach our room, and he unlocks the door. I step inside and walk over to the night stand, turning on the lamp as he shuts and locks the door.
“Can I take you home tomorrow?” he asks. “I’m anxious.”
I peer up at him. “Anxious for what?”
He just quirks a smile. “Everything, I guess.”
He tosses a little box at me, and I reach up, catching it.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Open it.”
I walk to the sink and face the mirror, tearing off the tape. Ripping open the box, I dig out three cassette tapes, and immediately start grinning.
“I found some 80’s music for you I can stand,” he says, coming up behind me as I inspect the new additions to my collection.
“AC/DC,” I read the labels. “Metallica…Beastie Boys.”
I look up at him, and he dips down kissing me. I close my eyes, feeling like I’m dizzy. I wonder how much trouble he went through to find these. I hope it was a lot.
I flick his tongue with mine, the kiss turning heated and strong, and I reach around, clasping the back of his neck, not letting him go.
He sucks in air through his teeth, and I can feel him harden through his jeans.
“Baby, I’ve been all over fucking Virginia,” he pants. “I need a shower.”
“We’ll take one after,” I say, reminiscing about our kitchen table foray two months ago when he wanted a shower first then, too.
I drop the tapes to the counter and press my back into him, moaning.
He kisses me and pulls back just a hair to look into my eyes. “There hasn’t been anyone else since you left,” he tells me.
I blink up at him. “I know. I can’t say the same, though.”
His face falls, and his jaw tenses.
I pin him with regretful eyes. “I missed you, so I had a few drinks on the Fourth of July and had a little tryst with the desk corner in room 108,” I tell him. “It was pretty hot.”
He breaks into a laugh, his body shaking behind me.
I actually didn’t do that, but I felt tempted a few times. When I close my eyes, though, I only see him, and it felt pathetic to masturbate to a guy whom I thought didn’t want me.
So, I’ve been chaste, and now I’m ready to go wild.
Turning me around, he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed. Letting me fall back, he pulls his shirt over his head and stares down at me as he unfastens his belt.
All of sudden, though, a very loud and fast pounding hits the wall behind our bed, and shrill moans and whimpers pierce the walls. We both stop and listen as Peter and his princess go at it in the next room, banging their headboard against ours and sending it bobbing back and forth.
His eyes go wide. “Oh, they are loud.”
Yup.
Then he looks down at me, an air of mischief in his eyes. “We can take ’em.” And then he grabs the back of my knees, yanking me down to the end of the bed, and I squeal as he comes down on top of me.