“Class? Taste? A color that isn’t brown?” I’ll admit, I’m used to five-star accommodations. Even in its prime this place wouldn’t rank at a point-five.
“Yes, it’s missing all of those things.” Nevah crosses her arms. “It’s also missing a second bed.”I See You Hanging There
NevahI’VE SLEPT IN some shitty places over the course of my life. My parents are great people, but we were firmly entrenched in the low end of middle class growing up. I had a single bed until I was eighteen, and the same mattress from the time I was four until I finally moved out. Incidentally, my parents sold the house at that time and bought an RV so they could travel around the US.
We’re a family of nomads. Hell, I spent a number of months sleeping on my sister’s couch when I was going through a particularly rough patch that included one of my douche exes.
But this motel is another level of shitty.
Lawson rocks back on his heels. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“It might actually be the more hygienic location.” I pick up the corner of the comforter and rub the fabric between my fingers. “This could double as a tarp.”
Lawson jams his thumbs into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Do you think there’s a HomeGoods or even a Walmart close by where we could grab sheets? Or maybe sleeping bags and a couple of blowup mattresses?”
“Oh my God!” I grab Lawson by the lapels of his shirt. Only one button is fastened, just below the center of his chest, so his incredibly perfect six-pack abs have been gloriously on display. I’ve been trying not to stare at them all day. Or his nipple ring.
“Did you see a cockroach?” He makes a gagging sound.
“What? No! And I really hope I don’t either. But I do have some very good news.”
“Okay. I’d love some of that right about now.” His eyes are such a pretty blue and they’re currently locked on mine as he awaits my ray of verbal sunshine.
“I have a set of bed sheets and a comforter in my car. They’re actually a gift for Cosy’s birthday. I realize that sounds like a weird gift. Especially for someone married to a freaking hotel mogul billionaire who can buy her a jet if he feels like it. Which he’s considered. But there’s a big long story to go with the sheets, and I’ll happily tell you the entire thing after we strip this down and put on fresh, fornication-free bedding.”
Lawson cringes. “I was really trying not to think about that, but if I’m honest, it was the first thing that came to mind when we stepped inside this room.”
I mirror his cringey face. “Same, unfortunately.” I release his lapels, realizing I’ve been right up in his personal space. “I’ll just grab the sheets from the car.”
“Sounds good. And if you happen to have a hazmat suit or two, that’d be great.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I head back outside and grab the comforter and sheet set I had custom designed for my sister. The great thing about a Cadillac Eldorado is that the trunk is huge, so I can store a lot of crap in here. I rummage around in the recess of the trunk, practically climbing inside to get to the back in case there are things in there that I’ve forgotten about.
I snag the handle of Cosy’s very old, very worn-out backpack. While I was in Vegas, I visited with my parents, who were there for a friend’s retirement party. They’re also coming to the party, but they left a couple of days early with plans to stop along the way.
I found the bag in their storage unit, along with some photo albums from our teen years, and thought Cosy might get a kick out of them. I didn’t bother checking the contents of the backpack before I tossed it into the trunk, but it doesn’t hurt to see what’s in there.
I carry the load of stuff back into the motel room just as Lawson comes out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his shorts while wearing a look of absolute disgust.
“I’m guessing it’s pretty nasty in there.” I drop the backpack and the wrapped box containing my sister’s birthday gift onto the table because I don’t want to contaminate anything by allowing it to touch the bed.
“I’ve seen nicer outhouses.”
“It’s that bad?” Considering Lawson’s family are the creators of a doll that’s been popular for a good two decades, I’ll go out on a limb and assume he hasn’t had to use many outhouses in his lifetime.
“Do you remember what the showers used to look like in high school locker rooms?” he asks somberly.
I nod.
“It’s worse.”
There isn’t a whole lot of space between the bed and the ancient dresser boasting a tube TV straight out of the nineties, so we both have to turn sideways to pass each other. My chest brushes his diaphragm and my fingers skim the back of his arm, causing both of us to break out into goosebumps.