The Hollow Hare Motel looked abandoned. It was long and narrow, running parallel to the road. There was only one floor. The parking lot was spiderwebbed with cracks that had weeds poking through, and the paint from the parking spots was so faded I could barely see the lines.
Next to the sign on the road was a weird piece of metal art. Just like the one I’d seen my first night driving into town, it was a metal skeleton figure. In the daylight I saw more details: it had three long fingers on each hand, like claws, one of which was gesturing at the road. A wide-brimmed hat covered its empty face. Rivets ran up the metal chest like rusty buttons. It was beautiful in a haunting sort of way, but just now it filled my chest with despair.
My car waited in one of the parking spots. Next to it was a tow truck without any business logo on the side. “Have a pleasant stay,” the sheriff said in a bored tone.
I bit back an angry response and got out of the car.
The man who climbed down out of the tow truck had hippy-long hair and wore a faded blue jumpsuit. “You Miss Owens?”
“Unfortunately.”
It took him a beat to realize that was a yes. “You owe me for the tow.”
“Give me a minute? I need to figure out how much I’m paying to stay here.”
He shrugged like he had all the time in the world.
A teenage boy sat behind the front desk with his feet up, playing on his cell phone. He looked surprised, then annoyed, to see a customer come in.
“Huh?” he grunted as a greeting.
“How much for a room?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I was going to spend the night, but I did know that I wanted a shower and a place to change into fresh clothes.
“Twenty for a night,” the boy drawled, or a hunnid’ for the full week.”
“Just the one night.”
His mouth hung open. “Naw, you see, it’s cheaper to take the week. You end up saving…” He trailed off as the gears in his head tried to do the mental math.
“I won’t be here a week,” I said.God willing.
“Whatever,” he said, as if I was the idiot for passing up the deal.
I held out my credit card. He stared at it.
“Do you not take credit?” I asked.
“Well, sure, we do,” he admitted. “But it’s an awful lot of work. I gotta fish out the scanner from the back room with the spiders. Then I gotta hook up the connection, which isrealslow. You’d be makin’ my life easier if you had cash.”
I found a twenty dollar bill in my wallet and handed it over. He accepted it without charging me tax or printing a receipt, then handed me a key attached to a plastic lanyard. “Room one.”
I took the key and frowned. “Am I the only one staying here?”
He was already looking down at his phone again. “We don’t get lots of visitors.”
The tow truck guy was waiting to accost me outside. “Miss Owens, I can’t give you the keys to your car ‘til you pay the balance.”
He seemed like a nice enough guy, so I held back from chewing him out. “My license is suspended, so I don’t really need my keys, now do I?” I smiled to let him know it was a joke.
He took off his baseball cap and rubbed his bald head nervously.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“One-fifty.”
“What!” I exclaimed. “I could stay here for almost two weeks for that.”
His already dour face grew gloomier. “Well, it’s a flat fifty for a tow, plus a hundred for each additional day kept at the yard. You didn’t take possession yesterday, so…”