Styx #2
“Being married and having a child doesn’t make you—” Miss Edna frowned. “She’s about sixty years younger than me. So I get to call her a girl.”
Dickens chuckled. “I won’t ask what that makes me.”
She frowned. “A man.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, fuddy-duddy.” She pursed her lips. “You’ve made your point.”
“I’m just saying Marnie might not see herself as a girl anymore.” He cast a smile at me. “Have you met our newcomer?”
“Just passing through.” I felt I needed to reiterate that.
He grinned. “Said many people who now live here. Proximity to Vancouver’s a thing. Small-town living has its charms.”
“Been here my entire life.” Miss Edna proceeded to tell a long, convoluted story about the old library, as opposed to the new library.
I didn’t quite follow, but I nodded politely and made interested noises.
Once, Dickens’s and my eyes met, and we both suppressed smiles.
Eventually Miss Edna wound down with, “—and that’s why the children’s section is where it is.
Oh, there’s Martin. I have to go.” She held out her hand.
Dickens offered his arm, and within moments, the woman was on her feet. They made their way to the door together, where he grabbed an umbrella and held it over her head as he escorted her to the van.
In a short period of time, she was aboard.
The van door closed, the vehicle left, and Dickens waved. He came back inside and shook himself off. “That’s one hell of a downpour. I’m glad you’re not in it.”
“Me too.”
“I have some ordering to do. You let me know if you need anything—including a refill.” He saluted and headed back toward the front cash register.
On that note, I settled more comfortably and began reading the history of Mission City. Reading was brutally hard for me, but I was determined. The picture books were nice, but I wanted to come across as someone serious. No idea why…but there it was.
I was so engrossed that when Dickens touched my shoulder, I was startled. His expression was soft and clearly considerate.
“It’s a quarter to six.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my face. “This really is a good book.” I flipped it over and winced at the twenty-five-dollar price tag.
“Note the page you’re on and pick up where you left off the next time you come in.”
“I should buy it.” Certainly, it would be less than either of the two books of photographs.
He snagged it, along with the other two, and waved me off. “Your company is more important than a sale.”
I squinted.
“You entertained Miss Edna.”
That wasn’t true, but I wouldn’t call him out on it.
He glanced outside. “I think there’s a reprieve in the rain. You might want to hustle, though.”
I rose and held out my hand.
He tilted his head. Then he shook it.
I told him, “I’m more grateful than I can express.”
“Pay it forward sometime.” He held up the books. “At the very least, come back to read the rest. And if you need a place to crash, I’ve got an apartment over the store that’s sitting empty. Do you want to see it? I should’ve offered earlier.”
I waved him away. “I’m good.” I couldn’t believe this guy was just offering me a place to stay.
He shrugged. Then he extracted a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “It’s got my personal number.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. Look, I don’t exactly offer a place to everyone. You seem like good people. I mean, you listened to Miss Edna go on and on. Plus, if I’m honest, there’s nothing to steal and you can’t access the store. Unless you’re going to throw some party—”
“I don’t know anyone to invite.”
“Right. So give me a call if things don’t work out.” He saluted and headed back toward the front desk.
I grabbed my bag and was heading for the door when a tall, dark, handsome guy walked in.
He gave me curious look, his blue eyes sparkling. “Hey.”
Uncertain of the correct protocol, I waved. “Hey.”
“Hey, sweetie.” Dickens headed our way. He tucked himself against his much-taller husband, and then pivoted to me. “This is my hubby, Spike. Spike, this is—” He frowned. “Oh my God, I didn’t even ask your name.”
I shrugged. “Styx.”
“Styx?” Spike cocked his head, and a lock of his hair fell over his forehead.
“I’m in a rock band. It…suits.”
“Yeah, it really does.” Dickens gave me a once-over that had been missing before.
What does he see? I was as tall as his husband, but much leaner, with decent biceps, but not the broadness of the motorcycle mechanic.
We shared dark hair and blue eyes, but Spike’s black mop and pale-azure eyes were more striking than my brown curls and dark blue.
Dickens was a lucky guy. “I need to take off.” I caught Dickens’s gaze. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You have my number.”
“Huh?” Spike frowned.
Dickens chuckled. “I’ll explain later. You want to cuddle with Ari?”
“You bet.”
On that note, I nodded and headed out. I was able to spot the hotel right away, even though the building was fairly unobtrusive. The three stories put it fifteen feet above the rest of the shops.
I hotfooted my way over, mindful that the sky was still overcast. My boots splashed through several puddles as I made my way and I winced at the dampness soaking my left sock. As I stepped into the lobby, my bladder made itself known. Crap. Do I pee in a restroom down here or upstairs?
A tall Black man standing behind the front counter smiled. “Welcome to The Grand Hotel. May I help you?”
I approached with a bit of trepidation. “I’m supposed to ask for the room key for 303.”
He nodded. “No worries.” He pulled an envelope from a drawer and slid it across the counter.
“Do you, uh, need to see ID or something?”
“I know the gentleman you’re meeting. I’m assuming you’ll either leave the key with him or bring it back down here.”
His dark-brown eyes sparked…amusement? Knowing? I couldn’t be certain. “You’re very trusting.”
He shrugged. “Small-town. And I have you on camera.”
My gaze shot to the lens behind him. Then I did a quick survey of the lobby and found three more. “Trust but verify?”
“Something like that. We provide a degree of privacy to our customers—but we also want to keep them safe.”
“I’m not a serial killer or anything.”
He chuckled. “I’m relieved to hear that. He’s waiting.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Is there somewhere I can quickly freshen up?”
“Sure.”
He gestured behind him, and I spotted a washroom. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. I’m Aaron, the manager. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable. We appreciate repeat business.”
I refrained from telling him that I was just passing through. I doubted that would go over well. “Thanks.”
“No worries.”
With that, I headed into the unisex washroom, locked the door behind me, and took stock in the mirror.
Given the stress of the day, I didn’t appear all that disheveled.
I removed my jacket and laid it on the baby-changing table, then pissed, flushed, washed my hands, and splashed cold water on my face. Finally, I sniffed my pits.
No gross, stinky sweat. Good to know.
I hefted my bag over my shoulder, grabbed the envelope, and draped my jacket over my arm. As I left the washroom, I gave Aaron a little salute and headed to the elevators.
So far, everyone I’d encountered in Mission City seemed remarkably friendly to a stranger. That didn’t seem likely to hold for the entire town but for today, I was grateful.
The elevator ride took little time, and locating 303 was easy enough. I removed the key card, swiped it, and let myself in.
My first thought, as I entered the dark room, was that I was about to be ambushed. I was reaching for the light switch when a voice came out of the dark. “Please don’t.” Deep and resonant. Almost unnaturally so. Is that his real voice?
“Sure.” I allowed the door to close behind me. “But if I can’t see…” I let the sentence hang. Until I noticed the crack of light from under the bathroom door. “May I open the bathroom for more light?” I gestured toward the door. He can’t see you. “Or will that reveal your secret identity?”
“I prefer darkness. Can you navigate with just that illumination?”
“I guess.” This got weirder by the minute, but still, his deep, resonant voice was doing things to me. “Don’t blame me if I trip over something.”
“I won’t.”
“Great.” I snagged the handle and opened the bathroom door.
The mystery man remained a mystery.
And because of the angle, he likely couldn’t see me either.
Either very paranoid or slightly kinky. Whatever. I could work with this. I dumped my bag in the closet and hung up my jacket with the key card tucked in one pocket. I cleared my throat. “Uh, did you bring supplies? I mean, assuming we’re—”
“Lube and condoms. Assumption correct.” This time, he let the sentence hang. “Prepare yourself.”
“So you want me stripping here? Too bad you won’t be able to see most of the show.”
He chuckled. “I have a good imagination.”
“Okay.” I bent to untie my laces. Then I removed all my clothes.
So much for a striptease. Or us ripping each other’s clothes off.
This entire night had a sterile feeling to it.
Maybe this guy has scars or something else that he doesn’t want me to see.
Or maybe he’s some famous celebrity. In Mission City. Right. Not.
Still, as I stepped away from the bathroom and farther into the dark room, I questioned the wisdom of this. Aaron knows I’m here. He knows this guy. So that means it’ll be okay. “I wish I could see you.”
“Touch will be enough.” Again, with the deeply resonant voice from a shadowy bulk on the bed.
“I can touch you everywhere?”
“Yes.”
On that note, I shuffled into the dark room and stopped abruptly when my knees hit the bed. “Is it okay if I join you?”
“Assume yes unless I say no.”
“Same.” Consent was good. “Any rules?”
“No marks. No lights.”
What will happen if I do? The curiosity is going to kill me. Not literally, but damn, I want to see you. Still, I said nothing. Well, until practicalities struck me. “Are you going to kick me out? When we’re done?”
“You want to stay?” A hint of something I couldn’t identify.