Page 4 of Striking

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The motel itself sits two stories high with pale green doors that open from an outdoor breezeway. In front of that, an old pool with no water that looks to be a hangout for a few homeless people.

Just now, I realize I don’t have her room number, and something tells me knocking on every door here will get me killed, or at least start more of a scuffle than I’m interested in having this time of night.

I park the truck in a less busy area of the parking lot and dial Julie’s number.

Before I was here, I thought Angie was a little crazy, but now I see that maybe she wasn’t. There’s no way in hell I could leave knowing someone I knew was staying in this place.

“Hello?” Relief washes over me as I hear Julie’s voice, though she sounds exhausted. I forgot it’s after midnight.

“It’s Maverick. I’m downstairs. What room are you in?”

There’s a long pause, then a discernible, “What?”

“I’m downstairs and I don’t know how long these junkies are going to mind their own business. What room are you in?”

She breathes heavily into the line as she realizes what’s happening. “Well, you better get your ass moving back to Rugged Mountain then, because I’m not telling you what room I’m in.”

A knock hits the side of my window. It’s a man with barely any teeth, long unclean hair, and what looks to be a crack pipe tucked into a flannel jacket. “Are you the cops?” the man asks, his words borderline incoherent. “We don’t like cops here.”

“Did you hear that?” Julie says. I swear I can hear a smile in her voice. “They don’t like cops here.”

“What room are you in?” I growl, ignoring the crowd outside that seems to be forming. “Tell me, or I’ll start doing some things we’ll both regret.”

She huffs out a heavy breath. “You’re better off just leaving. Dragging your group of haters upstairs isn’t going to help either of us.”

“I’ll worry about the crowd. Tell me what room you’re in.”

“Who called you? Was it Angie? If I didn’t have this election hanging over my head, I’d have a piece of something really rough to say to her.”

“She’s just trying to help.”

Julie sighs. “We’re all just trying to help someone, but I need some space. Did she tell you that? Did she tell you I need to be alone?”

“She said she heard a gunshot and that I should come check on you. Please, just let me see you’re okay. That’s all I want. If you’re okay, I’ll leave.”

“That’s what Angie said. She told me to tell her where I was, then she’d leave me alone. Turns out, she called you right away. Also, this isn’t a good part of town, so gunshots happen from time to time. I’m fine. This is the west. I’m a big girl.”

“And I was raised to take care of—”

“Women, right?Because you wouldn’t run all the way up the mountain in the middle of the night to protect some man.”

I huff and pull the truck away from the crowd that’s only getting larger. There are at least six people gathering around me. “No, I wouldn’t.” I leave out the part about how her stubborn mouth revs me every time we talk. I’m not sure what it is about that attitude, but I keep coming back for more. “I’m here because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in this place alone all night long with the threat of God knows what lurking outside. So, tell me what room you’re in or I’ll—”

“So you’re threatening me?”

“Threatening is a harsh word. I’m advising you to let me help you for the betterment of your situation.”

I pull into the street and the crowd of addicts cheer as best they can, nearly falling down as they yell. They think they’ve gotten rid of me. Really, I’m parking down the street to avoid the obvious bullshit, taking my chances on what I don’t yet know.

“I’m out of the truck and I’m on my way up. You can tell me where you are, or I can wander around in this poorly lit motel room all night. My life is in your hands.”

“You people all really need help. Do you know that?” she grumbles. “I’m in 202. Come, see I’m fine, then leave.”

I hang up the phone and jog up the dimly lit street toward the back stairwell, skipping steps as I make my way up. Room 202 is just after the stairway, and as I approach, I see Julie inside, holding back the curtain.

She slides the chain lock back away from the door and cracks it open. “Come in and see. I’m perfectly fine.”

I agree, she’s perfect, but the stench from this hotel room nearly knocks me over. “Jesus, fuck. How are you managing with this smell?”


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