cheating out —so that the person in the car could clearly see her Sun Down Motel vest and the Snickers. Just an innocent employee hitting the candy machine , she thought. She walked back to the office and closed the door behind her, then positioned herself at the edge of the window, looking at the car again. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought there was a flicker of movement behind the passenger window. Which didn’t make sense, because there was no reason for someone to take a picture of her. No reason at all.
----
• • •
It was a strangely busy night. A trucker stopped in and asked for directions, and when Viv couldn’t help, he pulled out his paper map and the two of them looked at it together, trying to figure out how he could get back to the interstate. There was another phone call with only breathing at the other end of the line. The linen company had left a bin of clean linens behind the motel, and Viv had to figure out how to open the UTILITIES door and push it inside. Through all of that, her attention kept wandering back to the scene in the parking lot: the closed motel door, the two cars parked in front of it, and the third car in the back of the parking lot, watching. She wondered if the man in the third car was going to stay there all night. She wondered if he was bored. She wondered if he had seen her.
It was just past two a.m. when another car pulled into the lot and a man walked into the office.
He was alone. He wore a suit and a trench coat, carried a briefcase and a suitcase. Viv remembered her manners and put on a smile as she raised her gaze to his face. She faltered, because he looked oddly familiar. He was in his thirties, decent-looking, clean-shaven. He looked like a thousand other men. Still, there was something in his eyes that she had seen before.
“Evening,” the man said, though it was the middle of the night by now. He approached the desk and set down his suitcase and his briefcase. “I’d like a room, please.”
Viv kept some of the smile on her face. “Sure thing,” she said. “A room is thirty dollars a night.”
“I know.” The man smiled at her, and Viv felt a rush of something—that familiarity again, mixed with something strangely like fear, as if she were remembering a bad dream she couldn’t quite grasp. This man should never smile , she thought wildly before she pushed the thought away. There was nothing wrong with his smile. He looked perfectly fine.
“Oh?” she asked him politely when he didn’t elaborate.
His pause was just a second too long, the smile still on his face. “You don’t remember me?” he said. “I stayed here a few weeks ago. I remember you. Oh, well, I guess I’m just that memorable.”
Now something clawed up the back of her memory. “Yes, I remember,” she said. “You’re a traveling salesman.”
“I am,” the man said, smiling again. “And just like last time I need to stay tonight, but I may need to stay longer after I talk to my bosses tomorrow. I go wherever they tell me, you see.”
Viv nodded, turning the guest book and pushing it toward him. “That’s okay,” she said, fighting the urge she had at the base of her spine to get rid of him, get him out of here. She needed to be polite; it was her job. “That’s fine.”
“Thank you.” The salesman took the pen from her—his fingertipnearly brushed hers, and she gritted her teeth—and swiftly wrote his name. Then he handed over thirty dollars. “I’ll be back tomorrow if I need to stay another night.”
Viv nodded and took the key to room 210 from the drawer. “Here you go. Have a nice night.”
“Thank you . . .” He paused dramatically. “What is your name?”
She was cornered. “Vivian,” she said, unwilling to ask him to call her Viv.
“Vivian,” the salesman said. He tipped an invisible hat to her, then picked up his cases and left the room.
Viv stood in the silence, her temples pounding. When he had gone she peeked out the
----
• • •
It was a strangely busy night. A trucker stopped in and asked for directions, and when Viv couldn’t help, he pulled out his paper map and the two of them looked at it together, trying to figure out how he could get back to the interstate. There was another phone call with only breathing at the other end of the line. The linen company had left a bin of clean linens behind the motel, and Viv had to figure out how to open the UTILITIES door and push it inside. Through all of that, her attention kept wandering back to the scene in the parking lot: the closed motel door, the two cars parked in front of it, and the third car in the back of the parking lot, watching. She wondered if the man in the third car was going to stay there all night. She wondered if he was bored. She wondered if he had seen her.
It was just past two a.m. when another car pulled into the lot and a man walked into the office.
He was alone. He wore a suit and a trench coat, carried a briefcase and a suitcase. Viv remembered her manners and put on a smile as she raised her gaze to his face. She faltered, because he looked oddly familiar. He was in his thirties, decent-looking, clean-shaven. He looked like a thousand other men. Still, there was something in his eyes that she had seen before.
“Evening,” the man said, though it was the middle of the night by now. He approached the desk and set down his suitcase and his briefcase. “I’d like a room, please.”
Viv kept some of the smile on her face. “Sure thing,” she said. “A room is thirty dollars a night.”
“I know.” The man smiled at her, and Viv felt a rush of something—that familiarity again, mixed with something strangely like fear, as if she were remembering a bad dream she couldn’t quite grasp. This man should never smile , she thought wildly before she pushed the thought away. There was nothing wrong with his smile. He looked perfectly fine.
“Oh?” she asked him politely when he didn’t elaborate.
His pause was just a second too long, the smile still on his face. “You don’t remember me?” he said. “I stayed here a few weeks ago. I remember you. Oh, well, I guess I’m just that memorable.”
Now something clawed up the back of her memory. “Yes, I remember,” she said. “You’re a traveling salesman.”
“I am,” the man said, smiling again. “And just like last time I need to stay tonight, but I may need to stay longer after I talk to my bosses tomorrow. I go wherever they tell me, you see.”
Viv nodded, turning the guest book and pushing it toward him. “That’s okay,” she said, fighting the urge she had at the base of her spine to get rid of him, get him out of here. She needed to be polite; it was her job. “That’s fine.”
“Thank you.” The salesman took the pen from her—his fingertipnearly brushed hers, and she gritted her teeth—and swiftly wrote his name. Then he handed over thirty dollars. “I’ll be back tomorrow if I need to stay another night.”
Viv nodded and took the key to room 210 from the drawer. “Here you go. Have a nice night.”
“Thank you . . .” He paused dramatically. “What is your name?”
She was cornered. “Vivian,” she said, unwilling to ask him to call her Viv.
“Vivian,” the salesman said. He tipped an invisible hat to her, then picked up his cases and left the room.
Viv stood in the silence, her temples pounding. When he had gone she peeked out the
Similar Books
