Chapter 6

ChapterSix

The walkto my townhome was filled with shifting and turning thoughts. Along with the residual flavor of salty and sweet cum in my mouth and the blue-green glow of his skin burned into my retinas. I gave a probable-alien a blowjob. And didn’t hate it. Even though he extorted, ahem, bartered, for it. Despite the intellectual disgust, my body reaction suggested otherwise. Apparently, I was his plaything. Sigh. The few people I encountered gave me a wide berth, likely because I sometimes spoke my thoughts out loud. It was the only way to keep them controlled during the walk home.

Once in my townhouse, I called Sherry to cajole her into finding out Jax’s address. She resisted, though finally agreed to do a quick search. She also pushed for information on what happened when I followed him, but I stuck with my story that I’d lost him when he went around a corner. I could tell she didn’t believe me, but I wasn’t planning on sharing the whole sordid mess yet.

I went to bed without information and woke up to a voicemail that she found nothing on him in any records. With a smack to the forehead, I realized my mistake. Whether he was really a federal agent, or, more likely, here on nefarious otherworldly business, he wouldn’t have purchased a home or rented an apartment. He’d be in a hotel, motel, or even one of those extended-stay places if he wanted a kitchen.

Excited to have a direction, I brewed some coffee and planted my ass at my kitchen table. I grabbed my laptop and drank the black elixir of life with my feet propped up on the neighboring chair.

How the hell were there more than two hotels in Sandy Creek? Seriously? And was it possible he’d rented a vacation rental instead? Surely not. That would expand my search in a way that wouldn’t be feasible to check. It seemed like an anonymous hotel or motel was the best bet. But, either way, I wasn’t giving up until I found my alien. And got a full fucking explanation. Plus maybe some sexual satiation. Wait? What?

I squashed those questions down hard and entered the first number into my cellphone.

“Hello, this is Paradise Lakes in Sandy Creek. How may I assist you today?” the friendly voice with the southern drawl asked.

“Good morning. I’m not sure if you can help me. I hope you can,” I began, realizing it might have been a good idea to have a plan of attack. Maybe a piece of the truth would do the trick.

“I’ll help if I can,” the woman said.

“A friend of mine is in town and I forgot the name of the place where he’s staying. I was hoping if I gave you his name and description, you could tell me if he’s staying there,” I explained.

“Oh, I don’t know, ma’am,” the woman said. “We’re not supposed to give out customer information.”

“I don’t need any information about him, per se,” I rushed to clarify. “Just whether or not he’s staying there.” I’d figure out the room number later.

“Can’t you just call him?” Now the worried voice had a tinge of suspicion.

“I would, but he lost his phone at the end of the night,” I lied. “Since my calls are still going to voicemail, I don’t believe he’s found it yet.”

“I guess there’s no harm in confirming, if you have his name,” she said, hesitancy losing out to southern hospitality.

“Jax Smith.”

“Let me check.” The clacking of keys followed.

I waited not so patiently. Would I get lucky with my first call?

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no one staying with us under that name.”

Shit. Wait! “You know, I didn’t think to ask, but maybe he’s staying with someone else,” I stalled, as I considered the possibility he registered under a fake name. An even faker name than Smith.

“I can’t keep checking names, ma’am,” the woman warned.

“Of course not.” I tapped my nails on the table. “He’s distinctive. How about if I describe him?”

“Sure, why not?”

“He’s huge. Nearly seven feet tall. Dark hair. Extremely fit. Like an athlete. Oh, and almost always wears sunglasses,” I added, realizing that was distinctive.

“He sounds good,” the woman unexpectedly joked.

Ah, the familiarity of a small town. “You’re not wrong,” I confided, shocked by the admission.

“You’re right, he’d definitely stand out. I haven’t seen anybody who looks like that here.”

“Thanks for your help, anyway,” I said, and ended the call.

One down. Twenty to go. Ugh.

I needed to consider a way to hasten the process. A better cover story would do the trick. Maybe a one-night stand? Hmm, it was a small town, maybe not. Although it was also a college town, so maybe yes.

I laughed at my ridiculousness and decided to try that with the next call.

“Hello, thank you for calling Spring Suites of Sandy Creek. How may I help you?”

It was a man’s voice. I wondered if that would help or hurt my cause. “Hi, I hope you can,” I said in a simpering voice. “I met a guy last night who’s only visiting, and I lost his number, so I’m trying to figure out where he’s staying. I know you can’t give me a room number or anything. But I’m hoping if I give you his name and description, you can at least tell me if I’m on the right track,” I assured the man, smiling widely since I’d read that people can hear a smile in someone’s voice.

“Well, let me see what I can do,” he said. “Lay it on me.”

Bingo! I gave him the same description I’d given the first woman. With the same result. Well, at least I’d streamlined the process to bupkis. I thanked him for his time and continued down my list.

On the thirteenth call, I struck pay dirt.

“Oh yeah,” the woman said. “He’s staying here. The sunglasses thing is weird, but he’s yummy.”

Mixed emotions flooded me at her words. As expected, she didn’t give me the room number. She offered to leave him a message and, since I couldn’t think of a non-suspicious reason to decline, I gave her a fake name and number before ending the call. I sat immobile in my kitchen, considering my next steps.

I wasn’t familiar with his choice of lodging, but camping out in the lobby of the Sandy Creek Motel did not sound like the best way to determine his room number. Fuck it. I’d drive there and figure it out when I arrived.

The Sandy Creek Motel wasn’t as seedy as I’d guessed it would be, appearing to have been recently painted and having nice, well-kept landscaping. It must have been one of the older motels in town, though, as it matched the classic design of a motel. Two stories, bland u-shape building, wrapping around a single parking lot. Maybe that was why my probable-alien picked it. I swung my Volvo sedan into the parking lot and parked near a covered entrance to the motel.

At least it would make staking out the place easier if I failed to get his room number. That’s what I’d chosen as my goal on the drive over. I’d finagle a way to get a desk clerk to provide me with Jax Smith’s room number. I still wasn’t sure how to do it.

Should I find the younger-sounding woman I’d spoken to on the phone? Or find someone different? I briefly considered asking Sherry to reach out in her official capacity as a law enforcement officer, and then discarded that idea. There was no way she’d do that. A quick records search was the limit of her unofficial help.

I slammed my car door and crossed the lot to the entrance. Upon entering, the solo man behind the counter made my decision for me.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the short, mustachioed older man greeted me. “How may I assist you today?”

I dropped my voice as if sharing confidential or embarrassing information. “So sorry to trouble you with this, but my friend checked into this hotel and I’m afraid he may have plans to harm himself. I don’t want to call the cops, in case I misunderstood, but I still wanted someone to check on him. He didn’t give me his room number, or I’d check on him myself.” When he opened his mouth, I held up a hand. “I’m not asking for his room number. I was wondering if you could try calling him, and tell him I’m here.” At the end of my statement, I widened my eyes and bit my lip. It worked.

“Of course, I can call the room if you have the guest’s name.”

“Jax Smith.” I crossed my fingers behind my back while the desk clerk called. Please be out, please be out, I chanted to myself. The plan wouldn’t work at all if Jax was actually in the room.

After several unanswered rings sounded, the clerk offered me a concerned look. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but he doesn’t seem to be available at the moment.”

“Is it possible he’s there, but not willing, or able, to answer the phone?” I asked, as if the thought had just occurred to me.

The concerned expression on the clerk’s face blossomed into full-on panic. “You don’t think that’s the case?”

“Anything is possible.” I dropped my gaze to the floor, as if in deep thought. “I’ll head to his parents’ house and check with them. Thank you for your help.” Before the clerk could respond, I strode toward the exit. I needed to be unavailable, so the clerk would run through the horrific possibilities himself.

Soon I was comfortably back in my car, watching the front door. Waiting for the clerk to come out. The only reasonable thing to do would be to check the room himself. He wouldn’t want to call the police either, but he couldn’t very well do nothing with the bomb I’d dropped in his lap.

Five minutes later, the clerk emerged and walked to the far side of the U. He knocked on a door. I couldn’t see the room number from my car, but I could see it was the door next to the staircase. Nobody answered, and the clerk fished keys out of his pocket. He opened the door and stuck his head inside. I imagined he was calling out for Jax. When he entered and closed the door, I assumed that meant Jax hadn’t answered and now he’d double check Jax wasn’t in there, dead or dying. I only had a few minutes to execute this part of the plan.

Jogging across the parking lot, my closed hand held aloft as if about to knock, the door opened from the inside, revealing the surprised desk clerk.

“I thought you’d be Jax,” I lied. “He finally responded and texted me his room number. He asked me to meet him here. I guess I was quicker since I hadn’t gotten very far.”

“I can’t let you in,” the clerk said, frowning.

“Oh, I know.” I matched his frown and stepped closer to the door. “Can I just peek in and see if anything jumps out at me as amiss?” I continued moving while I asked, so that by the time he refused, I had turned perpendicular to the doorway. Seeing inside while he was there wasn’t my goal. I needed to block his view of the door hinge. I pointed toward the room, and as it’s human nature, he glanced backward. With my other hand, I reached back and slipped the quarter I’d grabbed from my purse when I’d returned to my car into the hinge of the door. Thank god I was tall, so this wasn’t overly awkward. That would keep the door from fully closing, and hopefully keep the electronic lock from engaging. Sherry had taught me that trick when we moved in together. Very handy when you’re loading boxes in or out of an apartment.

Also very handy when you illicitly needed to enter someone’s room.

Quarter placed, I assured the man that I would wait by my car, and left. His eyes stayed on me, I was certain, until I crossed the width of the parking lot. Back at my car, I turned to wave, and then sat inside. The desk clerk hesitated, but ambled his way back to the front desk.

I’d have to hurry. No doubt, the instant Jax Smith arrived, the clerk would inform him of my presence. The clerk might even ask how Jax was doing. Who knew how long I’d have? I waited a full five minutes after the desk clerk disappeared into the registration wing of the building and then I hustled, head down, back across the lot.

The door pulled open without any difficulty. I yanked the quarter from the hinge and slipped inside the room. When the door closed behind me and I stepped toward the king-sized bed, my body temperature leaped as I licked my lips in primal hunger at the sight.