Blue Coyote Motel (26 page)

Doug stumbled out of the bar and made his way to the elevator. The door next to his room was ajar and he could see a bunch of young men inside the room that couldn't be over nineteen or twenty. It was obvious they had been partying all day and intended to keep going.
Swell
, he thought,
just what I need; a bunch of post-teenyboppers partying all night.
He thought about Lacy and knew he should call her, but knew he wouldn't be able to disguise his drunkenness. Anyway, Britney would be coming for a drink in a few minutes and he needed to get the room presentable.

He hung up the clothes he'd taken out of his travel bag and put away the clothes and towels he'd thrown on the floor. He opened the drapes and stood in amazement at what water and gambling had done to the desert. In every direction buildings were ablaze with neon lights. He looked down at the cars, one long line of headlights, moving to the next casino, the next drink, the next sexual encounter. Whatever you wanted, Las Vegas had it.

Doug promised himself he'd just have a drink with Britney, nothing more. Even though she made him so damn horny he thought he would explode, he'd just have a drink with her. He was committed to Lacy. However, the alcohol was dulling his resolve.

Well, maybe I'll have a little drink before she comes, just to be ready,
he thought. He opened the door of the refreshment center and found a small bottle of bourbon and a club soda. They were chilled and went down smoothly. Doug tried to set the alarm clock on the bedside table, but his brain wasn't fully functioning by this time. Instead, he left a wake-up call with the front desk; then he heard a knock on the door.

Doug opened it for Britney. She had changed out of her serving costume into a tight, white sweater and jeans. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, her erect nipples showing beneath the sweater. One look at her and every promise he had made to himself went down the drain. He wondered if she was wearing any underwear at all. "You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen," he said.

She walked over to him, ran her hands up his chest and then behind his neck, kissing him deeply. "I wanted you from the moment you walked into the lounge," she said. She pressed up against him, her breasts warm and large against his chest. He just wanted to rip off all her clothes and it was all he could do to restrain himself. She began to unbutton his shirt with one hand, her fingers lightly grazing his nipples. Her other hand drifted down to Doug's crotch and she deftly massaged the huge bulge in his pants with strong, urgent strokes.
Oh my God,
thought Doug,
I've died and gone to heaven.
He kissed her again, backing up to the bed, drawing her on top of him. She pulled her sweater over her head and unzipped her jeans, pulling them off easily. She reached down and unzipped his pants, releasing his large, fully erect penis.

"Roll over," he said, panting. "Let me in you." He mounted her as she lay on her back with her legs spread invitingly open. He made one giant deep thrust into her wetness and came instantly. His eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head and he collapsed on top of her, releasing a deep primordial moan. It had happened too quickly, but Britney was a pro and lied, telling him how wonderful it had been for her. As drunk as he was, he believed her. He closed his eyes, intending to fall asleep, but hearing rustling noises, he opened them in time to see Britney taking money out of his wallet.

"Honey," she said, "I usually get $300, but I like you, so I'm just going to take $200. Thanks. We can have that drink next time."

All Doug wanted now was sleep. He knew if he stayed awake and sobered up, he was going to hate himself for giving in to all of it, the alcohol, cigarettes, and a prostitute. He slept until the sound of the wake-up call the following morning shattered his sleep. His head hurt, his body ached, and his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.
Oh God,
he thought,
I don't think I've ever felt this bad.
He staggered to the bathroom, pouring himself a full glass of water.
Aspirin,
he thought,
maybe that will help.
Where in the hell did I put them?
He found them in the side pocket of his carry-on luggage, quickly gulping four, when he remembered that he hadn't used a condom. It was pretty clear to him what Britney's main source of income was and it wasn't working as a barmaid. He felt panicky as he realized that last night he had unprotected sex with a hooker. Even in his bad days, he'd never forgotten to wear a condom. What if he'd picked something up? How could he ever explain it to Lacy?

Just then, the phone rang for a second time. It was Lacy. "Why didn't you call me last night?" she asked. "I waited until I fell asleep. Where were you?"

"Lacy, I'm really sorry, but I went to dinner with some customers. We ended up seeing the Blue Man Group and when I got back to my room, it was too late to call. I didn't want to wake you. I was just about to call you this morning before I left for a breakfast meeting, but you beat me to it. How is everything?" Doug lied.

They talked for a few minutes. The aspirin began to work. When he hung up, he started the shower.
I hope this helps
, he thought. The shower felt good, a purging rite, something he desperately needed. Doug realized he had to get some food in his stomach, that there was no way he could make it to his first appointment feeling as he did now. He ordered eggs, bacon, toast, and a pot of coffee from room service.

As he got ready for his first appointment, he began to feel blessed that at least he was alive. He called on three companies, but only made one sale, a small one at that. At lunch he thought maybe he could fit a nap in before his scheduled afternoon appointments.

He went back to his room, saw the cleaning lady in the room next to his, and knew she'd be in his room in a matter of minutes.
So
much
for
the
nap
, he thought. He sat down at the desk, opened his laptop, and checked his email. Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Housekeeping," the voice said.

"Come in," Doug responded. A middle-aged African-American woman wheeled her cart in.

"I'll come back later if that would be easier," she said.

"No, go ahead and make up the room. I'll just sit here and do some work on my laptop. I'll stay out of your way," Doug said.

He looked carefully at the woman, noticing a slight bulge in the hemline of one leg of her pants. She followed his gaze. He didn't want to ask what the bulge was, but thought it was really odd. Doug idly wondered if she had some deformity. He turned back to his screen and began to answer his email.

Looking up, he noticed that she was looking around the room, seemingly surprised. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, this room's pretty neat. Don't look like you spent much time here. Looks like you had a shower, slept, had a drink, room service, and that's it. You wouldn't believe what some of these rooms look like," the housekeeper said.

"You must see some pretty unbelievable things," Doug responded. "I've always heard that Vegas had everything," he said, inwardly cringing as he remembered the night before.

The woman appeared anxious to talk and began to tell him of the things she had seen while working in Vegas hotels. She told him of a fire which started in a room caused by people making meth, the $30,000 of gambling chips stolen from a blackjack table while people were playing, and even the recent murder of one of her fellow housekeeping workers. She told Doug that something bad happened just about every week, but you never read about it in the newspapers. The Visitor and Convention Bureau made sure those kinds of stories stayed out of the papers. They wanted everyone to think Vegas was clean and wholesome. The housekeeper told him about the underground rumor mill. Every worker in Vegas knew what was really going on.

"I saw you looking at the hemline of my pants a few minutes ago," the housekeeper said. "I got a knife I keep there just in case I got a problem customer. Don't wanna be the next dead housekeeper." She pulled up her pants and there in a scabbard was the knife. She took it out. It was a scary thing with a big, wide blade. She idly tossed it from hand to hand then put it back. "No sir, anyone thinks about hurtin' me, they're gonna get this shiv shoved in their gut first."

Doug began to feel even worse than he had. This really was a sick place. If you scratched the underbelly of Vegas, the maggots came out. All he wanted was to get out of there and go home.

"Well, I think that's it," the housekeeper said. "You seem like a nice man; might be good for you to go home. This ain't no place for a good man to be."

Doug finished his emails, checked his appointment book, and left for his afternoon calls. Four hours later, he headed back to the Venetian. Despite his best efforts, he had only made one sale.
This
may
have
been
the
longest
day
of
my
life
, he thought,
the
company
won't
break
even
on
this
trip
.

He went downstairs to have dinner. He didn't feel like gambling, drinking, or smoking. He still felt sick to his stomach. He admitted to himself he hadn’t felt this bad since he'd stayed at the motel in the desert on the way back from Phoenix and going toward his dreaded meeting with Jack.
What was the name of that place? Oh yeah, the Blue Coyote.
He had felt great when he left there and he'd kept that feeling, but lately he could feel himself losing it. He was beginning to slip back into patterns of the old Doug, the Doug he had grown to hate. He had really thought that Doug was gone. The flashbacks were becoming a reality. Maybe there was something about that motel? Maybe he should go back. His mojo was gone and he needed to get it back.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Memorial Day weekend was coming up. He decided he'd call the rental car company and return it when he got back to California on Sunday. He’d leave tomorrow morning, drive south on Highway 95 to Blythe and then west to the hotel. It was a long drive and out of the way, but he didn't care. Visiting the motel again was the only thing he could think to do and perhaps regain the good feelings he had when he left there.

He went back to his room to call the Blue Coyote to see if they had any rooms left for the Memorial Day weekend. Before he made the call, he decided a couple more aspirin couldn't hurt. He walked into the bathroom to get some water. He looked at the mirror and was shocked by what he saw. No wonder Lacy had commented on how tired he looked. He seemed a lot more than tired; he looked old! What in the hell was happening? Where was the charismatic guy from a few months ago? What was going on? He'd aged over five years. He tried smiling at the mirror. That helped to erase the lines. He guessed he'd have to go around smiling all day. He knew he owed Lacy some sort of explanation, but for the life of him he couldn't come up with anything plausible.

I probably do need to get away,
he thought.
I've been working harder than ever. Maybe it's beginning to take its toll.
He placed a call to the Blue Coyote Motel. The phone was answered by the beautiful Latina woman he remembered. He made a reservation for the coming Memorial Day weekend, telling her he would check in the next day and would be leaving Sunday morning. The young woman told him she looked forward to seeing him and asked how he was doing.

"You wouldn't believe how great my life has been since the last time I was at the Blue Coyote," Doug said. He began telling the young woman about the last few months. He related just how great he'd felt when he left the motel, how his life had turned around, but unfortunately, now he was feeling like he was losing it and going back to his old ways. He wondered if maybe his motel stay had something to do with it, he said, so he had decided to go back for a second visit. He told her he'd see her tomorrow. When he hung up, he was embarrassed that he'd divulged so much about his personal life. It was very unlike him.
Well, at least she'll know why I'm there—to get my life back together.

Doug called Lacy and got the answering machine. "Lacy, you know how I've been tired lately. Things haven't been great at work or at home. I know it's me, not you. I've decided to drive to that motel I told you about, the Blue Coyote. It's the one located in the desert out in the middle of nowhere. I'm going to spend the weekend there and drive home Sunday. Perhaps I'll feel better after I've been there. I love you and I'll see you in three days." He hung up, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks.

After Maria hung up from talking to Doug, she turned to Jeffrey. "Doug Ritchie just made a reservation for the Memorial Day weekend. He'll be checking in tomorrow and he's not doing well. It probably wouldn't hurt to pipe Freedom into his room a few hours in advance. He was a nice guy. I'm sure he'll feel better after he gets here."

CHAPTER 28

Luisa and Jorge's move from Rio had gone smoothly. Soon, they were settled in their new home in California, eagerly awaiting the birth of their much wished for baby. Jorge was ecstatic when the sonogram showed that the baby would be a boy. They decided on the name "Carlos" to honor Luisa's maternal grandfather. She had been very close to her grandparents, spending many summers on their ranch located not far from Rio. She was an accomplished horsewoman and she dreamed of the day she could have her own horse and ranch. Luisa decided to wait until Carlos was out of his infancy, but she definitely wanted him to enjoy the experience of being on a ranch as much as she had.

Luisa was adjusting to the new maid and the cook she had inherited from the former owners. They were good, but she still missed the easy relationship she had with Manny and Luz. They knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. She knew it would take time to adjust to the new help. Although she liked the food that Joey, the cook, prepared, she was having a hard time getting used to California cuisine. She was well aware that all the fruits, vegetables, and grains were good for her, but she longed for the free range beef and chicken she was used to eating in Rio.