Page 9

I arrived at the motel earlier than normal to walk Alex to work. I normally wouldn’t be here for another hour, but today was different. Today, Alex was moving into Westing House! He was finally going to get to live in the house he’d admired from the street for years!

This also meant that it was time. It was time to meet him. For real. I’d seen the email come through from the construction foreman to the project manager late yesterday evening. Robert said in the message that the upstairs was ready, and he was confident it was safe enough for Alex to inhabit. They hadn’t passed the fire inspection yet, but that was scheduled for early next week… after a hunky firefighter delivered and installed the fire extinguishers, that is. The moment drew nigh. It made my skin break out in goosebumps just to imagine.

I walked into the small office and rang the bell sitting atop the counter. After a moment, an older gentleman walked out from a back room with a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Good morning,”

I said. “I’d just like to settle up for a room. We’ll be checking out today.”

“Room number?”

he asked, setting the coffee down on the counter and sitting down in front of an ancient-looking computer.

“Twelve.”

The man finger-punched a few keys in. “Oh, the long-term rental for the county?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought they were sending a check?”

The old man had his facts messed up, poor guy. He didn’t seem to have all of his wits about him, and I wondered how often he was taken advantage of. That thought made me feel bad.

The arrangement was that the city was depositing the money for Alex’s room weekly, along with his living stipend. Alex had tried to come in and pay a few times, but they just kept telling him to settle up when he was ready to check out. If Alex hadn’t been such a sweet and trustworthy person, he could have just left whenever and never paid them at all.

“Nope. I’m here to take care of it all in person, if that’s all right,”

I told him, offering a friendly smile.

I wanted to pay for Alex’s room so he could keep all the money the city had deposited. I wanted him to feel independent. He deserved to have some security.

After a few more painful minutes of the man fighting with the computer system, he gave me the total.

“Two hundred and forty-seven dollars, please,”

the man said, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he turned from the screen to face me.

I sighed. “Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but that’s not correct. We’ve had the room for well over six weeks. At $62 a night, I fear we’ve missed something.”

The man frowned and then turned back into the computer screen as if an answer would magically appear without him touching anything.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and quickly calculated $62 x 45. I pulled the envelope out of the inner pocket of my coat and counted out $3,000 in hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the counter to the man. I added three more at the last second, in case there had been other charges or taxes I hadn't thought about.

“This should do it. Have a great day, and thank you.”

I walked out of the office and down the block to where I’d parked. I had plenty of time. Alex might not even be awake yet. I pulled away from the curb and headed down the block towards Starbucks.

Once Alex was awake, I escorted him to work, but did so in my car. I wanted to get back to the motel and leave the note and the gift card. I had no clue how soon he’d want to come get his stuff once he knew he was clear to move in. When the shit hit the fan, I wanted him to be able to give the card to the police.

I had watched Tom purchase a prepaid credit card from a gas station when I was trailing him one night. I had been trying to figure out the best way to kill him and make it look like an accident, but I eventually decided against it. It would hurt Alex far too much to learn of his death.

No, I needed Alex to make the conscious decision to cut ties with him once and for all. Alex needed to fear Tom. Alex needed to understand that Tom would cause him nothing but strife.

Growing up the way they had, needing to feel financially safe and independent had turned into a money-hungry obsession Tom couldn’t stop chasing. Alex had figured that out now, too.

All I had to do now was play my cards right, and Alex would never want him again.

Tom had bought the gift card to pay for a boy in the VIP section of the gay club on 5th Avenue. Alex wasn’t having sex with him anymore, and Jenny didn’t exactly scratch the itch, so he’d just buy escorts. I followed him into the club, throngs of sweaty, mostly naked guys rubbing against each other all over the dance floor.

It had taken absolutely no effort at all to shimmy and grind my way through the crowd and snatch his wallet clean out of his back pocket. I slipped the gift card out from inside the fold and dropped the wallet onto the ground. He’d either find it or he wouldn’t. I didn’t give a fuck. He was gonna have a hard time paying for dessert, though…

And when Alex gave the gift card to the police, they would trace it back to Tom. Unless he had paid in cash, which was likely, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. At the very least, I had ruined his night. Maybe his week if no one turned his wallet in.

Small victories…

I stopped the car in front of Alex’s room and made quick work of sliding the envelope underneath the door, so Alex would see it when he came to get his stuff. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I almost had a heart attack. Turning in right past me was a white construction truck driven by Mike Jensen, one of the younger guys on the crew of the Westing House project, with Alex sitting right next to him.

That was fast. I threw up a silent prayer they hadn’t turned in 30 seconds sooner, trying to quell the rising anxiety of the close call.

If he had seen you slipping that under his door, it would have blown the whole thing! Idiot!

I drove down the street and parked in the lot of a laundromat to wait for them to leave. Mike was from Alabama and had moved to the city a year or so back. He was 21, and well on his way to becoming an alcoholic. He stopped at the bar and tossed back three or four beers almost every night I was trailing him. I wasn’t a huge fan of Alex driving around with him. He tended to smile a lot at Alex. I’d seen more than one longing stare on the lawn as Alex walked by.

I doubt Alex had even noticed. Until very recently, he’d still been consumed with losing Tom. I was hoping to get in quickly and nip that in the bud. Alex didn’t need the drama of loving an alcoholic. It always ended in heartbreak. Besides, I would be with him soon enough.

I was beginning to wonder if Alex had shown Mike the note, or if he’d seen it when Alex opened the door. I wondered if Alex would tell him about the other note and the gloves, or if Alex would try to sweep it under the rug again, thinking it was Tom fucking around?

I didn’t have long to wonder as I watched the truck pull out of the motel. Once there was some distance between us, I pulled out of the lot I was waiting in. I was unsure of exactly where he was taking Alex as they passed the turn for Westing House.

A few miles down, the truck turned into the mall.

“You’re taking him to the mall?”

I asked in disbelief.

By the time I got through the intersection and into the parking lot, I saw Alex walking into the main entrance. The place was a madhouse. There was no way I was gonna be able to find a parking spot and get inside before losing him. The mall was huge, and he could be going in and out of multiple different stores.

“Fuck!”

Scanning the rows, I found Mike leaning up against the side of his truck smoking a cigarette.

“You couldn’t be bothered to walk him inside?”

I wished I could yell it in his stupid face. “He hates shopping.”

I sighed, the realization that no one would ever be able to care for him the way I could rolling over me once again. I found a spot in the next row to keep an eye on the truck and wait for Alex’s return.

Thirty minutes later, Alex came walking out of the mall carrying a large plastic bag hanging on one arm and two pillows squeezed under his other.

“Ahh, that makes sense, now.”

I know his bed had been delivered a few days ago. I never even thought about him needing bedding. I hoped he was able to find something that kept him warm and made him comfortable. The pillows looked nice. Thick and fluffy. Maybe I'd get to lay on one of them sometime soon.

I pulled out of the mall three cars behind Mike’s truck and followed them back to Westing House.