A lump forms in my throat. “I’m sorry, Jenna. Really.”
She sighs. “Me too. Now, get back to your story.” God, she is the best sister in the universe.
“So, I pinched him and, I don’t know, things just spiraled from there.”
“Uh huh.” She pauses. “I still don’t understand. Is this pinching thing one of your flirting techniques gone wrong?”
“No!” For God’s sake. Just because I happen to be talented at flirting doesn’t mean I flirt with just anyone. “I’d never flirt with him.” Total lie. I used to flirt with him like my life depended on it. It just never worked.
“Sounds like flirting to me.”
“That’s because you’re awful at flirting. We’ve already established that.” The woman truly is helpless. Good thing Sam had the situation under control from day one with her.
“Shows what you know. I’m an excellent flirt now. I’ve been practicing.”
Sam’s voice comes through loud and clear. “You better be talking about flirting with me.”
“Of course I am,” Jenna placates him and then whispers into her phone, “I got him to take the girls Christmas shopping the other day by telling him how sexy I find it when he flexes his parenting muscles.”
Good God. “Nicely done, sis.” Sam is a cop and a straight-up hottie of the most masculine variety, but he’s a pushover when it comes to Jenna and the girls.
“Yeah, well, when you come home, I can give you some lessons for a change.”
This is the boldest she’s been regarding my return home. Part of me just wants to tell Klint to drive me all the way there right now. But I’m not ready. I made too many mistakes back there, and I can’t afford to repeat them.
“It’s a deal.” After all, it would be hilarious to watch Jenna try teaching me a thing or two about flirting. Great blackmail material too.
It suddenly doesn’t seem like such a good idea to tell her about my colossal screw-up with Milo and the police. I can actually hear her smiling through the phone, and I’d rather leave things there. Besides, she obviously won’t be of much help if she thinks I was actually flirting with that vile man. Like I’d ever stoop so low. Oh, shut up.
As if to reinforce my decision, the sign for the Misty Motor Inn appears through the windshield.
“Hey, I gotta go. I’m in an Uber, and we’re pulling up to my stop.”
“Wait. You didn’t tell me the rest of the story about Milo! And why are you in an Uber? Where’s your car? Oh no. Are you drunk? It’s eleven in the morning, Jill!”
A laugh spills out. “Slow your roll, freakatron. It’s no big deal, and I’m not drunk. I’m fine. Everything is fine. No need to call out the state patrol.” I wince at that one and don’t add on the word “again.”
“Fine, but we’re not done with this conversation. I’m calling you later.”
“Okay, gotta go. Love you. Give the girls kisses for me.”
“Love you, Jilly.”
Yup, best sister in the universe.
I bid adieu to Klint and drag my shit into the lobby of the Misty Motor Inn. And by lobby, I mean the sweltering metal sauna housing the unhelpful manager and her cat. They’re watching The Young and the Restless, and the cat is making a gourmet meal out of his own ass. Neither one spares me a glance.
“Um, hi. Me again.” I go for a little self-deprecating chuckle, but I really don’t have the energy, so it comes out as more of a groan.
The manager’s eyes remain glued to the TV. “Tell your johns to stop pissing on the signpost. Damn thing is rusting out.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?” I clutch my purse closer and, I swear, if I were wearing pearls, I’d be clutching the hell out of them too.
“You heard me.” Her voice sounds like she’s two days away from keeling over from black lung.
“I’m not a…” I clear my throat and start again. “Listen, I just checked out this morning from room sixteen and I’ve had a, uh, change of plans. So, I’d like to check back in.”
“Room sixteen ain’t available no more.” She picks something out of her teeth with a yellow fingernail, and I fight my gag reflex.
“But I just checked out literally… never mind. I’ll take whatever room you have then.” Anything that will get me out of this den of horror.
Her response is immediate, but she still doesn’t tear her eyes from the TV. “I can give you one on the second floor. Ocean view. Gonna cost a little more though.”
I pull out my wallet. “How much more?”
“Sixty.”
My head jerks back. “For sixty, I could stay at a motel that doesn’t have hookers.”
“Suit yourself.” She reaches over and pets the cat, and I half expect her to yank out a piece of its hair and start flossing with it.
Dammit. I’ll have to call another Uber and drag my ass around in circles until I find a place. Or maybe… “Well, my pimp said he won’t pay more than forty so...” I throw my arms out in a what are you gonna do position. Everybody knows you don’t mess with a pimp.
She finally swings her eyes over to me. “Price just went up to seventy.”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
The cat jumps down from the desk, apparently finished with his butt buffet, and curls himself around my leg. Well, at least someone in this town doesn’t hate me.
I mentally calculate my bank balance and hold out my debit card, being sure to maintain my grip as the manager reaches out and grabs the other end.
“Fifty,” I say and then raise a brow when she frowns at me.
“Fine,” she gives in begrudgingly, and I release my hold. “But we got a trade show coming in town on Thursday, and I’m gonna need all the rooms.”
“What kind of trade show?” I can’t imagine who would stay here voluntarily. Do pimps have trade shows?
“Carpet and Flooring.” The gadget on her desk clicks and rumbles as she runs my card over the carbon paper and hands me the slip to sign.
“And they’re staying here?” It’s out before I can stop it, but she just slides a pen over and squints at me like I’m two steps down from a moron. “Oooooh.” The lightbulb finally turns on in my brain. “Eww.” That slips out too, but there’s no preventing it.
Soon I’m ensconced in my “deluxe” accommodation, which is an exact replica of my first one, except I can sort of glimpse part of the ocean around the two buildings between the motel and the beach if I crane my neck just so. Doing my best not to touch anything more than absolutely necessary, I strip the duvet onto the floor and replace it with a few pieces of my dirty laundry. Then I scrub my hands to within an inch of their lives and settle on the bed with the Schnitzel with Noodles menu propped in front of me.
My first shift is tonight, and I’m determined to do such an amazing job that I’ll soon be promoted to a von Trapp child who’s actually gone through puberty and doesn’t wear braids. I had completely forgotten about the oldest sister, Liesl, the other day. She was kind of sexy with her secret boyfriend and all that—even if he did turn out to be a Nazi in the end. And she was a flirt, so it’s a perfect fit.