Chapter 5
5
FORD
I pull into the shitty hotel in town and park in the deserted parking lot. It is the most inconspicuous hotel I could find without going to Mooresville. I refused to go to my parents. They aren’t happy that I left, and I don’t have time.
As the doors slide open, the cold air and the scents of disinfectant and cheap air freshener assault me as I enter the lobby. A far cry from the luxury I’m used to.
The girl behind the desk calls out, “Welcome to the Ramada,” as I approach the front desk. “Checking in?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
I pull my hat low. “It’s under Derek Smith for Ford Keller.”
I had my manager make a reservation in his name to buy me time until I arrived. I didn’t plan where I would stay permanently once I got here. If it didn’t work out, I could always go back. I could always prepare for the next race.
She looks up. “Yes, I have one room with one king bed for Mr. Keller. I need to see your ID.”
I nod, hoping she doesn’t recognize me when I hand it to her. She takes a minute to look at the license, making sure it matches the name.
She hands me my license and a key card with a flirty smile. “Do you need anything else? Take-out menus?” She peers over the counter. “I see you made it in time to Sugar Coated Sweets.”
“They’re the best in all of North Carolina,” I praise.
“It is. It’s a shame, though, about that poor girl’s grandma,” she says sullenly. “Cancer. She’s still alive, but her granddaughter takes care of her, you know. Runs the bakery. Pays for her treatment. Any hope of that girl getting out of here was robbed.”
“Did she marry?” I find myself asking.
She shakes her head. “No. Not that I know of. She keeps to herself mostly.” Then says like she is lost in thought, “People wonder, though.”
“About?” I ask curiously, making me sweat when it’s anything that has to do with Dulce.
“Why she looks so sad all the time.”
“Knowing you’re going to lose someone to cancer does that.”
“Yeah, I get that, but why wouldn’t you want to be surrounded by people.”
Because you were treated like shit most of your life because of the way you looked.
“Maybe she doesn’t trust people.”
She snorts, making her look even more ugly. “I can’t blame her. I don’t trust my husband isn’t fucking the gas station clerk. He always needs to top off his car full of gas or get a snack from the gas station. When I ask to go, he picks a fight. I went there, you know, to see for myself. I bought something and paid with my card. When I asked her for a pen to sign the receipt, she handed me the one from his job.”
She picks at the pimple on the corner of her lip she tried to cover up with cheap concealer only to make it look like a wart, and she wonders why.
“You have a nice night.”
“If you need anything, call me,” she says and then giggles.
What the fuck did I get myself into?
My room is on the third floor, which is also the top floor. I walk down the hallway with the multicolored stained carpet and wallpaper peeling on the sides. The smell of dirty feet and carpet cleaner gets worse the farther I go. I’m not surprised by the room when I open the door. The bed doesn’t have a comforter, and the box air conditioner turns on with rattle, blowing air that smells like stale cigarettes and mold even though there is a No Smoking sign that they clearly don’t enforce.
I glance at the bed, knowing the last thing I’m going to get is some sleep. I kept thinking about what the front desk clerk said about Dulce. How she is still taking care of her grandmother.
I open the cookie box and take a bite, closing my eyes at how good they taste just like the first time.
Digging my wallet out of my pants pocket, I open it and unfold the little paper she gave me four years ago.
The one with her phone number still on it.
My phone rings for the sixth time. I reach over blindly to grab it and decline the call. It’s 7 a.m. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
My phone rings again, and an unknown number flashes on the screen. I answer, thinking it might be one of the guys on my team. I want nothing more than to tell him to fuck off for waking me up this early, reminding me how much my back hurts sleeping on this horrible mattress.
“Hello,” I bark.
“Is that a way to greet your favorite ex?”
Squinting, I try to focus on the screen. I recognize that annoying voice trying too hard to be sultry, landing between forced and irritating. “Summer.”
“It’s been a while.”
“How the fuck did you get this number?”
“Still mad at me?”
“It’s seven in the morning, Summer.”
“Trent gave me your number. Don’t be mad at him. You know he can’t say no when I ask him nicely.”
“Bet you asked him nicely.” She laughs.
“Wanna catch up? Have coffee? I live in Mooresville now, but you like driving, so…”
“Even if you lived next door, that’s still a no.”
“I miss you,” she says softly. “I mean, I’ll always miss you.”
“As you can see from the tabloids, I haven’t missed you.”
She sighs. “Why are you so bitter?”
Hmm…let’s see, after I broke up with you, you lied to me that you were on the pill. Told me you were pregnant in hopes it would stop me from leaving. When that didn’t work, you told my parents I knocked you up so I would be forced to marry you, then had an abortion, six weeks later, got drunk, and fucked Trent before prom night to make me jealous so I would hate my friend.
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you so grumpy? Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah, fuck off.”
I hang up. I’d rather get drunk and titty fuck the front desk clerk downstairs than see Summer. Knowing her, she probably posted on social media that Ford Keller is back in Airy.
I get up and head to the bathroom. Ignoring the mildew under the toilet, I take a piss and step into the yellow-stained shower that was white once upon of time. I stand under the hot spray, letting it ease the knots in my aching muscles.
After I shower, I give up trying to dry myself, chafing my skin with a towel. I dry my wet feet on the shitty carpet and sit on the bed. I check the time on my phone. I’m meeting Trent around noon. The bakery opens at eight o’clock. I definitely have time to go see Dulce and have her serve me breakfast.