Page 8 of Forever Endeavor

CHAPTER 4

Billie

After trying half a dozen ways to wriggle a warped key into a worn lock, Billie finally pried open the door. She recoiled at the wretched, dank smell of fish scales, decaying wood and the thick, heavy mustiness of an ancient tomb being unsealed.

The walls sighed and creaked, desperately gasping for fresh air. Taking one final gulp of oxygen, Billie dragged her bags inside, leaving the door open in case she needed to scram the eff out. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling. In front of the filmy windows sat a table surrounded by three rickety chairs, a sagging sofa the color of phlegm, a prehistoric television, and an old wood stove. The kitchen boasted a wash basin and a hotplate, a pot, a skillet, and a scattering of tin dishes.

As she got braver, she explored further. The bedroom was little more than a pancake mattress on an iron frame. In the tiny bathroom, a calcium-crusted faucet hovered over a stained sink, an “out of order” sign taped to the toilet lid, and beside it, a rusted bait bucket with a commode seat and a half roll of two-ply.Ohhh hell no. No way, no how, no siree Bob. I’ll hold it all night if I have to.

A flap-flap-flapped above her head. She let out a blood-curdling shriek and bolted to safety outdoors.Oh God! Please don’t be a bat!Still ducking, she dared to peek back inside, her nails digging into the pliant door frame, knees half bent in preparation for fight or flight, when she spotted the holy terror. A bird. Okay, not great, but a bird she could handle much better than a rabid flying rat.

She scouted around for a broom. No luck. Maybe a noisy exorcism would get rid of the winged one. She chose a tin mug and a pot lid, crashing them together like cymbals. The bird’s beady eyes stared down at Billie like she was the one who’d flown the cuckoo’s nest. “Get out you stupid bird!”

The bird turned its head, shook its tail feathers, and let out a tiny drop of poop. Disgust didn’t deter Billie. She wildly flailed, jumping up and down as she banged the mug and lid harder and faster. “Go bird, go! Go bird, go! Go bird—”

“What in Sam Hill is going on?!” Frozen in mid-flap, Billie gawked at the behemoth in the doorway. He was an oak of a man with a deeply-tanned complexion and a heavy grey beard like tangled fishing net. She’d have sworn it was the ghost of Hemingway himself, but what would ol’ Ernie want with her? “How’d you get in here?” his voice boomed.

“Sonny gave me a key,” she squeaked.

He looked at a piece of paper crumpled in his massive sausage fingers. “It says here that a kid named Billy rented out cabin three. But you don’t look like a kid, and you sure don’t look like a Billy to me.”

Frickin’ grease monkey.“That’s me, I’m Billie, but it’s with an I-E not a Y. Are you Sonny’s uncle?”

He gave her a slight nod. “Calvin Hayes at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hayes. Since you’re the landlord around here, could you deal with that?” Her finger pointed out the issue overhead. “He’s a stubborn little shit.”

“Call me Cal. And that poor li’l fella is probably stunned by all the ruckus you’re making. Just leave him be and let him decide when it’s time to go.”

Billie frowned. “What if he doesn’t decide to go by tonight?”

“S’pose I’ll charge for double occupancy.” Cal’s laugh bounced off the cabin walls.

“I’m not sleeping with a bird flapping above my head. I’d rather sleep in a rowboat.”

“I’ve done that. Don’t recommend it,” he said. “I’ll get some bread to coax him out. In the meantime, open a window or two and give him some options.”

When he returned, Billie tore the bread to shreds and dropped crumbs leading out the front door. She lobbed the crust up in the air and the bird lunged. Terrorized, she shrieked and bolted outside, leaving Cal doubled over with laughter. The bird scooped two more chunks of bread in its beak before flying the coop.

“That—” Cal hooted, “was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Billie scowled as she walked back inside. “I’m glad running for my life amused you.”

“I’m certain you were never in any real danger,” he said, patting her shoulder. “All the same, it’s not quite the welcome we like to give our tourists.”

“I’m not a tourist, I was on my way to the Dominican when my car broke down. I was told that this place is my best bet for lodging.”

His bushy eyebrows lifted. “I’m not so sure about that. You really want to stay here?”

“I thought so until I saw the caveman toilet you’ve rigged up. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Cal laughed again. “I’ve never had a complaint about the john. Then again, we rarely get guests of the female persuasion.”

“You might consider an alternative for those of us who squat and not merely take aim.”

“Tell you what, Miss Billie. I realize you don’t know me from Adam, but I’m a harmless old man and a fairly reputable fellow. Got a spare room at the house where you’re welcome to stay tonight. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s clean and it smells a hell of a lot better than this joint.”

Billie narrowed her eyes and studied him. She figured the threat level was low enough to put Calvin Hayes in the non-serial killer column. “And you promise me you’ve got indoor plumbing?”

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