“You’re smiling.” Nox got out and went around the other side of the van. He opened the door. “I guess it was in rougher shape than I thought when we bought it.”
“It was fine till you started breaking pieces off.” Luca got out. “So please, whatever you do, don’t kick the tires, or the transmission will fall out.”
“The tires have nothing to do with the transmission.”
“The window handle has nothing to do with the door release, but….” Luca held up the broken handle.
“Fine, I won’t kick the tires.”
“Thank you.”
Nox waited until Luca was inside their room before heading to the lobby.
And Nox thought the outside of the building was bad.
Dying fluorescents cast sickly green highlights on the remaining upholstery covering two chairs. One with arms, the other without. A large bucket sat between them, catching an almost constant stream of water droplets. Metal bowls lining the windowsill did the same.
No computers, no TV, just a file cabinet, a pegboard, and a desk even a thrift store would have thrown away.
Duct tape secured a broomstick to the remaining half of the left leg.
“Hello?” Nox tapped the call bell sitting on the desk, but it didn’t work. “Hello?”
“Give me a minute.” An elderly woman emerged from a narrow doorway in the corner. Her cane thumped with each step. “I was downstairs.” Her breath wheezed. “Not that many steps, but any step might as well be a lot when you get my—” She squinted at Nox, then dragged her cloudy eyes from head to toe, and her wrinkled face pinched. “You people don’t ever give up, do you?”
Nox glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“So now what? You going to strong-arm the light company into cutting off my electricity? Or maybe you wave some money at a bigwig in the city to turn off my water and sewage.” She shook her cane at Nox. “Oh wait, you already tried that, but you got handed your ass when you realized I’ve got my own well and septic.”
“Uh—”
“You’re also out of workmen to threaten. Not that it would do you much good seeing how that big box hardware store has about put them out of business. And the folks that work for them don’t give two shits about your Taj Mahal. They know you’re not buy’n no building supplies from them—”
“I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not—”
She marched around the desk. “The only mistake is Mr. Warren sending you here to try’n scare me.”
“I don’t work for anyone named Warren.”
She held up her chin. “Well then, tell whoever it is you work for, they’ll have to get in line behind Mr. Warren if they plan on strong-arming me out of my land.”
“Ma’am, I’m renting one of your rooms.”
She stepped back.
“My friend paid for a couple of nights in cash day before yesterday.”
The old woman deflated and leaned on her cane. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.” She headed around to the other side of the desk.
“It’s okay.” Nox followed her over.
“Room one-o-one, right?” She opened the filing cabinet.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Paid for three nights. You’ve been here two.” She took out a small box and opened it. “Check out was at eleven, so I’ll have to keep ten percent.” She counted out fives and ones.
“I’m not here to check out early.”