The waitress sets down three tall glasses of water, all filled to the brim with ice. Luk grabs a glass closer to his side of the table like I’m a wild animal who will cut his arm off if he touches my water.
Okay, it’s not that far from the truth. The other two glasses end up on each side of me, leaving room for the plate of food that has yet to be delivered. A restaurant that serves breakfast twenty-four hours a day and an ice maker. The Last Chance isn’t so bad.
Of course, I’m eating this meal with a man who walks around with a bag of guns. After Lukis finished unloading his sacks of destruction, he had three reasonably-sized guns lying on the bed. And when I say reasonably, I mean they were regular-sized. Still big, and guns, but not so big and scary I wanted to run away with my arms flailing . . . much. There’s a double-barrel shotgun I’m pretty sure people only use in Westerns, and the most reasonable of the pack is a tiny black pistol. He laid them all out on the bedspread like they were no big deal. Everyone walks around with guns stashed away in their luggage. The man doesn’t seem to have any clue this isn’t normal behavior.
Not wanting to piss off the armed lunatic, I sat quietly waiting until I could escape, but then he put all the guns back in the bag and stuck it under the bed. It’s easier to pretend they aren’t there when I can’t see them. He sealed my fate with the mention of food after he finished setting up his equipment.
In the quiet of the room, I tried to come to terms with the guns and the fact I’ll be sleeping beside him later. When an escape plan didn’t come to mind, I eventually gave in. With limited time, and my desire for food and water outweighing my thought process, I said “fuck it.” The will to live helps overcome many issues I’d normally run away from.
Lukis continues to stare in my direction, his soft blue eyes seeing straight through me. Eventually, my politeness wears away and well . . . a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I drain half the glass of water before smacking my lips and sliding it back on the table.
He watches it all happen without a word and only a slight smile of amusement.
“What?” I ask when the silence becomes too much.
Luk laughs. “Nothing.”
“No . . . Seriously, what?” There’s no way I believe his nothing statement, and I hate not knowing.
“Fine, but remember that you asked.”
I nod my head in his direction. “Yeah, yeah I asked. What?”
“Is your suction that good when you have other things between your lips?”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?” He did not. Did he? He did.
The laugh deepens, leading me to believe he was making the sexual innuendo.
“You asked.”
“Well, remind me never to ask again.” That’s one mistake I don’t want to make a second time. “And for your information, my suction is so good, they call me Ms. Hoover, but you’ll never know.”
Lukis laughs again. “You also lack the ability to handle uncomfortable silence.”
I roll my eyes and take a few more sips of water. Mr. Walks-Around-With-A-Gun thinks he can analyze me. “I’ve just had a few rough days.”
“I’m assuming from the car I passed on the way into the motel your vehicle had a rough time too.”
“Ha ha ha.” I deadpan. “And what are you doing out here in no man’s land with,” I lean closer and whisper, “a bag full of guns?”
“I like you, Sugar Lips.”
I knock my straw around in the water glass. “That’s not an answer. I can’t sleep with someone I don’t know.”
“We’re sleeping together?” Lukis’ eyes dip low, stopping at the small amount of cleavage I have peeking above my tank top.
“Well, you said the floor was too dirty.”
Lukis chuckles. “Sugar Lips, that’s not sleeping together. That’s sleeping by each other. It’ll be rough but I’m sure you’ll be able to keep your hands off me for a few hours while you’re passed out. Let’s not get so close we share our life stories.”
“Trust me. I’ll handle it.”
He looks up and stares out the window, the silence growing between us. Silence doesn’t bother me because, unlike most people, I’m capable of maintaining a conversation with myself in my own head. Who needs to have a conversation with another person?
Not me.
I’m fine.
It doesn’t drive me nuts at all.
“And how does someone as gorgeous as you find themselves with no car in the middle of the desert?” he asks a few minutes later.
Thank God. I couldn’t handle another second of silence.
“I’m turning thirty.”
“And that’s why your car died?” he asks, cutting me off hastily.
“No. Shhh, if you’re not going to talk, then sit quietly while I do.”
“Okay,” he puts his hands up in the air. “No more commentary from the peanut gallery.”
“Thank you. Anyway, I’m turning thirty. On the fourth of July, my company sent out a memo saying they sold the hotel I worked at and would close in four days. Four days!”
Lukis huffs. “Business owners.”
“Shhh.” My eyes widen as a reminder. For a man who doesn’t want to talk about himself, he sure has enough to say about my story. “On the tenth of July, my sister gave birth. To her third child.” I hold up three fingers for emphasis. “This morning, I said fuck it. The idea grew, and I decided I’d treat myself to a weekend in Vegas, but the car couldn’t make the trip. That’s it.”
He’s silent, his head barely nodding.
“Oh, can I talk now?” he asks.
So annoying. Luk must carry his guns around in case someone tries to bump him off for his horrible personality. “Yes, I suppose.”
“So what’s your end plan? What about family and friends? How are you going to get home?”
A sigh fills the air, and I jiggle the ice in my second glass of water. “My parents are visiting my sister and new baby, so there isn’t much I can do. And soon, I won’t have a home since I can’t afford my apartment.” All problems which will take care of themselves if I continue my current strategy of doing nothing. “If possible, I’ll hang out here until my dad returns and I beg him to give me a ride home. I’ll pack up my shit and move back in with them.” Every thirty-year-old’s dream, right?”
It will be a long four-hour car ride listening to him tell me all the ways I’ve messed up my life over the years. I’m looking forward to it . . . not. It’s possible that’s the reason I decided it’s a good idea to stay in a room with a gun enthusiast with a penchant for spying.
Who knows what he plans to do with the equipment he set up in our room before we left. From the computers and all the other technical equipment he hung on all the windows, it’s not something honest and law abiding.
“So . . .” I ask and let the question linger.
“So? Your plan sucks.”
“My plan?” Is it even a plan? Or just me admitting defeat. And when did I ask him his opinion? “And what would you do, Mr. Know-It-All?”
Lukis smiles, like the devil about to take someone’s soul. If only he wasn’t so damn hot while he did it. I’ve always been a girl with a love for arms. Consider it my personal kryptonite.
“You said it best. No responsibilities and unemployment is a blessing. Now you’re free to do whatever you want. Live it up. Travel. See the world.”
I almost spit out my sip of water. “With what money?” There aren’t a lot of road jobs available to someone with front desk experience at a hotel. We were a fucking two diamond! Probably a diamond higher than my current accommodations, but still.
“Money is always available if you’re open to it.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and groan. “So you’re one of those people. The ones who believe in the universe giving you what you need?” If that were true, the universe hates me because my life sucks. Unless I evolved in my sleep, I’m sure I still require food and water to live.
Although, not that I’d ever admit it to him, but the idea of kicking off responsibility and traveling for a while sounds amazing. Watch America zoom by from the front seat of a car. Or a train. Who wouldn’t love enough money to travel? Without a big bank account funding the way, we’re forced into jobs and life responsibilities. Everything else is all downhill from there.
Except my car is sitting dead a mile down the road, and I have less than a thousand dollars in the bank. Travel, for me, is a pipe dream. Still, I can’t help but think I wasted my twenties. I did everything they told me to in order to succeed. Went to college, got a job, worked hard, but where’s my reward? I don’t feel almost thirty, but at the same time, each day I feel older, heavier, rougher. Jaded. I’m not sure when my Friday nights became sitting at home watching old cancelled TV shows on Netflix rather than drinking at the clubs with my friends, but they did. Somewhere along the way, I became boring.
And old.
“Chin up, Sugar Lips. A healthy positive attitude does not mean I’m a dream chaser. I don’t let things like money worry me, and it all works out.”
“Bullshit like that is only said by someone who has at least five digits in his bank account.”
Lukis laughs, not denying my comment.
“And what is it you do? Just travel around with your guns visiting various motels in the desert?” I don’t peg the crazy man as a motel mystery shopper.
“My job takes me to many places. I took this contract for an out-of-town friend.”
“And what are you doing for this out-of-town friend?” I push. Lukis has to give in sooner or later.
He laughs, taking his first drink from his own water. “If you must know, it requires a little surveillance and a little snatch-and-grab.”
One of my eye brows raises in question.
He laughs harder. “That’s all you’re getting, which is more than you should know.”
“A little snatch-and-grab? Like you’re going to kidnap someone?” I lean across the table whispering. Time for me to get out of here.
Lukis leans in too, closing the distance between us so we’re almost nose to nose. “No, but I like this view.” He looks down at my now pushed up and exposed cleavage.
I hurry to settle back on the bench and wrap my arms around my chest. If I’m an arm girl, Luk must be a boob guy.