Page 5 of Mistletoe Omega
“Maybe I don’t know your exact age, but you’re not sixty-five.”
“Nope. I just turned forty.”
“So how are you retired then?”
“I took a bullet to the thigh five years ago and went out on disability retirement.” I grimaced. “I wasn’t ready to retire, but the department was looking for younger guys to fill the slots cheaper. I decided I didn’t want to work where it was just a matter of time till they found a reason to get rid of me. That happened to a few of my buddies. I wasn’t going out that way, so I took the offer and here I am.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. But it was a good thing. I’m happy now.”
“You don’t limp.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do sometimes. But I did a ton of rehab and worked hard to recuperate fully.” I slowed down, preparing to turn into the driveway of the Wagon Train Motel. A red vacancy sign flashed in the front window, and an older man sat reading a newspaper inside the little office. “Are you upstairs or down?”
“Down.” He put his hand on the door handle. “They’re cheaper than the upper units. The manager tries to pretend upstairs has a view.” He chuffed.
“Yeah, of weeds, and the back of the Shell gas station maybe.” I grinned.
He pointed out the front of the windshield. “I’m there, room 109.”
I headed past all the other dingy rooms and slowed in front of his. There were two boxes stacked on top of each other, and one trash bag blocking his door. “Are you having a garage sale?”
He seemed confused as he stared at the stuff. When the truck stopped, he jumped out and headed toward the pile. “What the fuck is this?” His voice was raised, and he looked around as if bewildered.
I got out and followed him, leaving the engine running and the lights on so we could see better. I touched the trash bag and opened it. Inside there was clothing and shoes. “Whose stuff is this?” I asked.
He leaned toward me and stared down at the items. “That’s my clothes.” He met my gaze, his face tense. “What the hell is going on?” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a key card. When he tried it in the lock, a little red light appeared. He tried it several times, and then he faced me, looking confused. “My key isn’t working.”
“Did you pay your bill?”
He scowled. “Tim paid a month in advance.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That should take us through to the end of December.” He shivered and eyed the snow that fell silently around us.
“Let’s go talk to the office.”
He nodded and strode ahead of me determinedly. He slipped a little on a patch of ice in the doorway to the office. I grabbed his arm, and he gave me a grateful glance. “Thanks.”
We entered the office, and the man behind the desk put his newspaper down, a stubborn set to his jaw. “What do you want?”
Sam hesitated. “I want to get into my room.”
“Sorry. No can do. You’ve been locked out for non-payment.”
Sam’s face was red. “That’s not possible. Tim paid you for last month and then this month in advance.”
“Buddy, that guy paid for one month only. Plus, he stole silverware and food every time he ate down here for the complimentary breakfast. You’re lucky I don’t call the cops and have you arrested. I gave you two extra days just to be nice.”
“That can’t be right.”
The guy leaned toward Sam. “You should have been out at the first of this month. I told your boyfriend that. It’s not my fault if he didn’t give you the memo.”
Sam looked like he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. “I don’t understand.”
The man rolled his eyes. “What part?”
“Any of it,” Sam whispered. “You can’t just throw me out in the cold like this. I’ll freeze to death.”
The guy hardened his jaw. “That’s not my problem. Go to the bus station or something. I can’t just let people stay here for free.”
