Holding On To You (8 page)

'I'll do my best', Garland says.

'You'll do better than that', Frank says.

'Yes', Garland agrees. It was best to agree with Frank, even if you didn't really mean it. He's on the way out of the door when Frank remembers something else.

'And the girl?' Frank says, not interested in her by a long way, but aware that an appeal might bring the robber in by himself, and save him yet another ulcer.

'Nothing yet sir.'

'Nothing?'

'No sir.'

Her face has been on every single news channel all afternoon, and not one person has rung in to ask what we are doing about finding her?'

'Not a single call', Garland says.

'Jesus christ', Frank says, and holds his head in his hands. 'He's kidnapped a nobody, that nobody cares about. We don't get this sorted soon, they'll pull it away from us.'

'I'm trying to find her family sir', Garland says.

'Good. If that doesn't work, get an actress in here, and make sure you talk to the press about it, but off-line. No doubt they'll be having the same idea. And Garland, I want reports of every stolen car in a fifty mile radius of Albuquerque, as soon as they come in.'

'Done', Garland says, and quickly makes it out of the door, before Frank asks him yet another question.

River is overjoyed to find that the stereo on his new car is working. It takes him a while to tune into something that he's happy to listen to, but he eventually finds some motown, and enjoys it so much, he turns it up so Maddy can hear. It is, of course, not the kind of thing Maddy would choose to listen to, even if listening to music was something she did. She tries to block it out with her hands over her ears, and when that doesn't work, she tries to get River's attention by slapping the back seat with her palm. Eventually, she gives in, grits her teeth and bears it. Before too long, she finds herself lost in the rhythm, and barely notices it's there. For the first time in a long time, and without her actually realising it, she begins to relax. River taps out the beat on the steering wheel. Hidden underneath the passenger seat is a recently stolen bag full of enough money to keep him going for a long time, and on his face is a smile that goes from ear to ear. He hasn't seen a police officer for the last four hours, and he's on the way to the state line. There is nothing that can stop him now.

Maddy tries as best as she can to get comfortable. She's hungry, thirsty, tense, crankier than normal and desperately needs a pee. Her dress is so dirty she's going to have to throw it away, and it horrifies her to think what state her hair will be in. She needs a shower, a coffee, something to eat, a clean bathroom, and somewhere to rest. With those things she might even feel a little bit more inclined to 'get along' with her captor, as he so eloquently put it.

As the car rolls along, and the motown changes into country, and then to rock and roll, Maddy thinks about her office. She knows it'll have crumbled into a state of chaotic disorganisation in the short time she's been away, but she wonders whether anyone will be wondering where she's got to. In short, she wonders whether anyone cares. The weird thing is, the crazy, stupid, fucked up thing, is that the man that's taken her hostage and stolen her company's money, is the man who probably cares more about her than anyone else in the world, even if it's only to ensure his own survival. He's probably the closest thing she's had to a friend since, well, for as long as she can remember. Perhaps its best if she does try and get along with him, it might make him less inclined to kill her. Maddy wishes it could be as easy as that though. She's been trying to get along with people for her whole life, but has never been able to do it right.

It's a good job Maddy doesn't know how her colleagues are reacting to the news of her kidnapping, because if she did, it would only make her cry again.

Chapter 7

There are faded Christmas decorations that run along the back wall, perhaps too high up for the large lady on reception to take down without calling for help, so she's never bothered. Either that, or every time she remembers she has to do it, it's already July, and they are closer again to Christmas than they are away from it. Reindeer pull Santas, and sleighs move along stacked full of presents. Peeling snowmen look sad and forgotten.

'You can't smoke in here, it's against the regulations', the woman says without taking her eyes off the badly dubbed martial arts film showing on her box television. Without River asking for it, she puts an ashtray on the counter for him to stub his cigarette out in, slurps a decent swallow of gin and tonic through a curly plastic straw buried in a polka dot designed glass, pauses her film, sighs heavily and turns around to look at him. Thick glasses and heavy eye-liner compose a face that sits on top of a wobbly neck, like a rock on top of cow dung, frozen solid over a harsh winter. It's not the best look River has ever seen.

'You know it's a long way to Christmas', River says.

The woman lowers her glasses and gives him the once over.

'You're much more attractive than anyone we usually get in here', she says. 'I'll let you put the star on the top of the tree if you fancy staying that long.'

'I reckon that'd be very nice', River says. 'Just so long as the gin doesn't run out.'

'I can't promise that', the woman says, and delivers herself another good swallow, trapped air bubbling in both the bottom of her glass and the bottom of her stomach. 'How long are you looking to stay?'

'Well that all depends on the quality of the furnishings', River says.

'It's the best in America', the receptionist says, 'didn't you see the sign outside. We've had all sorts of famous people staying here. Movie stars, rock stars, rock climbers, social climbers, even ex-American presidents.'

'Wow', River says, 'is that so?'

'It sure is', the receptionist says, and giggles at her own joke. 'Mostly we just get layabouts, downbeats and criminals, and then very rarely we get the good looking, well behaved ones, you know, the ones that you wish would stay, perhaps even if it was only during the Christmas period.'

She hands him over a key.

'It's thirty five dollars a night, tax included, paid in advance. You just pay me in the morning if you want to stay another night, although something tells me I might not ever see you again after today. That's kind of the way it works isn't it?'

'That's for the penthouse suite right?' River says. 'The one where all the celebrities stay?'

'I've had celebrities in all of the rooms, so you don't need to be worrying about that. I've put you at the back, but I can change that if you want. Most people like to go at the back.'

'The back'll suit me just fine', River says. He digs in his pocket for the money, and hands over several screwed up bills.

'You never heard of a wallet?' she says to him.

'I've never had enough money to put in it', he says.

'Aint that the truth', she says.

'I figure I can smoke in the room?' River says.

'I told you already it's against the regulations. Use the ashtrays if you're going to do it, and don't let me see you. Although if I ever make it to your room, I aint going to be worrying about a little bit of smoke getting into my eyes, if you know what I mean.'

Her giggle turns into a cackle, and that cackle turns into a full on coughing fit. Eventually she settles down again, aided on her way by several medicinal slurps of her gin & tonic.

'You need me, I'll be in here', she says.

'Thank you', River says and makes his way back out to the car.

Just before he leaves the reception room, she says, 'You can do what you like, your business is your business after all, but just don't bring me any trouble, you hear me? I'm too old and too ugly for it now.'

With that advice given, she puts her glasses back on, turns back around to her television set, un-pauses the VHS and sparks up the rest of the cigarette River left in the ashtray.

Maddy had expected to be let out of the car when it stopped fifteen minutes ago, almost resorting to banging on the metal trunk lid, thinking that River had left her. Now as the car starts up again, she has even less idea of what's going on. River drives the car the short distance to the back of the motel, finds his room number and reverses so the trunk is facing the door, as close as he can get it. This is a single level motel of about thirty rooms spread out in an H shape, right on the edge of a dusty state border town that not even the residents themselves really give two shits about, and the receptionist has picked well for him, choosing a room right in the top of the H, away from everything and with good visibility should he need it. There are three other cars parked in the lot, all on the other side, and no sign of activity, apart from a mangy dog sniffing about, marking territory and trying to find either something to eat or somewhere to shit. It's the kind of place anyway, where people keep their own business to themselves, that even if someone sees him open the trunk and take what is clearly a hostage out of it, they'll probably do nothing else but turn back to their TV or drink, and forget the whole thing, having witnessed yet again, something they see on a regular basis.

River doesn't want to risk it though, and before he opens up, he takes another look around, just to make sure he's alone.

Maddy screws her eyes up, as the harsh afternoon light spills into the trunk around her. Her hope that the silhouette now standing in front of her would belong to someone coming to her rescue, is broken into a million pieces when her eyes adjust to the new brightness, and she sees, yet again, the man that seems to be driven by the sole desire to make her life hell.

'Rise and shine, Miss Madeleine Parker', River says. 'Welcome to your new home.'

The gun is a precaution against a scream for help, that Maddy would struggle to deliver anyway. River holds out his free hand to help her, and Maddy gives him a look that would cut through lead, before sitting up on her own.

'Where are we?' she says.

'I'll tell you that when we've settled in', River says.

'I can't wait.'

'You try anything stupid, I'll shoot you in the back and leave you bleeding on the floor while I drive away. Now come on', River says.

He puts his free hand under her armpit to help her down, and Maddy tries unsuccessfully to struggle away from it. River thinks she's trying to squirm away, but all she wants to do is get down and walk into the room unaided. He holds her tighter and pushes the gun a little more strongly into her spine, and Maddy relents. He slams the trunk and walks her into their motel room, shutting the door behind them and locking it without taking his eyes off her. Once inside, he closes the curtains and checks the room for other entrances, of which there are none. In fact, all he finds is a dead cockroach next to the toilet bowl. Maddy stands there with her arms folded, watching him go, a look of disgust on her face. The place is absolutely filthy, and there are weird stains on the bed and the far wall. Dust inhabits every available surface, and there is an acrid smell of tobacco smoke, that River immediately adds to, by sparking up yet another cigarette. Maddy watches him sit down on the bed, as though the place has always been his.

'This is it? Maddy says. 'This is your grand escape plan?' A shitty motel in the middle of nowhere. What are we going to do now, spend the rest of our lives here until the cops forget about you?'

'That's almost funny Maddy, I like that', River says.

'Fuck you', she says. 'You can't just go around taking people hostage like this, it's not fair. I have a life!'

Maddy looks for somewhere to sit down, but the options are either sharing the bed with River or sitting on the dirty floor, neither of which seem appealing to her. Instead she just paces back and forth a little bit, like a mechanical doll, before kind of leaning awkwardly up against the back wall.

River watches her. The last thing he wants is for her to have a nervous breakdown. He'd rather not gag her, and besides which he'd prefer for her to be compliant, not difficult. It would be easier and much more enjoyable for them both. He's only known her last than half a day, but he can tell that she's the kind of person that needs a bit of fun.

'Settle down Maddy, he says. 'For a start, this isn't a shitty hotel. It's thirty five dollars a night, and a lot of famous people have stayed here.'

The statement is so bizarre, that Maddy almost gives him a weary smile.

'Secondly, I want to make a deal with you.'

'A deal?'

'I'm going to make it across the border to Mexico, with or without you.'

There isn't an ash-tray close by, so River tips the ash onto the top of the bed-side table.

'Do you have to do that?' Maddy says, disgusted.

'You've got to loosen up a little bit', River says. 'You can't go through life twisted up like that.'

'And you think it's alright to go through life like you are? Stealing and hurting and ruining everything.'

'It's done me alright just so far', River says.

'I can see.'

'Why don't you sit on the bed? You'd be more comfortable.'

'I'm fine where I am', Maddy lies, as uncomfortable as she was in the back of the car.