Shane's Room

As Shane headed to his room, he glanced back at the young woman he had just met. Brandi had turned and was staring across the parking lot. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to her room. Shane unlocked his door and a thought occurred to him. He turned toward Brandi and cleared his throat.

"You don't have a room here, do you?" he asked, quietly.

Brandi shook her head. "It hardly seems worth it. I mean, it'll be morning soon. I kind of need to conserve my cash right now."

Shane nodded. He'd been strapped for cash quite a few times in his life. He understood her logic. He sized up the girl. She was definitely a stranger and he had no reason to trust her. Still, he found himself wanting to help her. There was something pathetic and yet alluring about this woman.

"You're welcome to crash in my room, if you'd like. I'll warn you though, I haven't slept in a bed for days and I'm beat. I won't be much for company."

Shane knew that even with the "I'm so tired" caveat, his offer made him sound like a letch. He doubted Brandi would take him up on his offer. What girl in her right mind would?

Brandi smiled and stepped past him into the room. "Thanks" she said, "It's kind of cold out here."

Shane locked the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. Brandi slumped into a chair next to a little desk. For a few minutes, the two sat in silence, not making eye contact. Finally, Shane spoke.

"So, Brandi. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Brandi looked up, eyes glistening. "Oh, as usual, my life is messed up." She didn't know why, but it was easy to talk to Shane. "I just broke up with my jerk boyfriend and he left me out here."

Shane shook his head. "That's no way to treat a lady" he said, sympathetically.

Brandi smiled and moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. "Like I said, he's a jerk."

Shane leaned back until he was lying flat on his back. The cheap motel bed felt like heaven to his achy back. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as he sensed Brandi cozying up next to him. "Brandi, what is it you do?"

"Do?"

"You know, for a living. What kind of job do you have?"

"Well, I used to work at a factory but now I guess you could say I'm unemployed."

"And that's why you're conserving cash, right?"

Brandi caressed Shane's hair. "Yep, but hopefully something will come along soon."

"You know" said Shane, yawning. "You should talk to my sister, Penelope, she works in town and might be able to hook you up with something."

Brandi leaned in close and kissed Shane's forehead. "Yeah, I should definitely talk to her."

Brandi leaned back to see if Shane had picked up on her not so subtle moves. Unsure, she leaned in for a mouth kiss to seal the deal. Just as she was about to make contact, Shane let out a snore that shook the windows. Brandi jumped back with a little "Eep!" and turned her back to Shane. Pulling a pillow over her head she tried to drown out the chainsaw next to her and catch a quick nap.

I hate being a cat

In the grand scheme of things I haven’t really been a cat all that long. Maybe two, three hundred years…it’s easy to lose track of time when you spend centuries lounging in the sunny spots of whatever room you happen to find yourself in. Before being a cat I was a Killer Whale, now that was a body! I was king of the sea, nobody ever touched my belly. Even before that I was a Panda bear or something. Honestly, I don’t even remember anymore. Anyway that’s all moot as I am currently a small cat, not even a big cat. Whatever.

Anyway, where was I? I had some catnip last night and everything’s still a blur. Oh yea, I mean I’m a cat right so I’m doing my regular cat thing, lounging around in the sun thinking about five billion years from now when the sun expands into a red giant and I have to start all over again, when out of nowhere some dirty human in some run down car decides I look lonely and need a home. Me! Need some human’s help? Please.

Yea so anyway she picks me up and you know I’m kind of hesitant but she does have a paper bag and a jacket in the back seat so I figure I’ll make myself comfortable and maybe watch some jersey shore on her T.V. Well JACKPOT! She’s straight up mentally ill, stalking some lowlife. I love it! I’ve got my reality T.V. right here, and best part is I can do a little manipulating. Time to get to work.

Late Night Detecting

Rusty rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Sleep was not coming easily tonight. He hated that he had let Keith rattle him so. Being a detective felt less fun than it had earlier in the day. He looked across the room at the envelope lying on the chair. After tossing it there when he'd gotten home, he'd done his best to avoid it. The temptation to peek inside was overwhelming but Rusty resisted. Once he delivered it to Drew he'd probably find out the contents anyway.

Rusty rolled out of bed and crept to the window. For the past few nights, he'd felt like someone was watching him. He even thought he noticed someone sitting in an older green Corolla looking toward his apartment. It was probably someone who lived in the building just getting home, he tried to assure himself. He began noticing the green car most nights, although it was usually parked in the shadows and he was unable to tell if it was occupied. Until his encounter with Keith, Rusty thought he was just being paranoid. He was relieved to find that the green car was nowhere in sight tonight.

Rusty sat back on the edge of his bed and tried hard to be a detective. Study the evidence, he told himself, let the facts speak to you. Rusty sat, staring blankly at the floor. The facts weren't saying much. Rusty began to wonder what exactly it was he was trying to detect. After all, he'd been trying to find Keith. He'd done that - or at least Keith had found him. So, was he done? Was that it? Case closed? No, Rusty realized. It was Brandi he was looking for.

Rusty's thoughts returned to the green car. It was out there every night except tonight - the night that Keith had confronted him. Maybe the driver of the green car was working for Keith. Maybe they had told Keith where to find him. Maybe their work was done now that Keith had delivered his message. Maybe that's why the car isn't out there tonight. Rusty grabbed a pen and his yellow notebook from his nightstand. He opened the notebook randomly, anxious to find a blank page. In big letters he wrote "Green car works for Keith".

Rusty sank back onto the bed, pleased with himself for having come up with a conclusion. He felt like a real detective and the feeling gave him courage. Knowing Keith, he would likely send the green car back to make sure Rusty minded his own business. If he did, Rusty would be ready.