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Authors: Hannah Pittard

Listen to Me (16 page)

BOOK: Listen to Me
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“A fair trade,” Mark said. “Good boy.”

He started the car and pulled it into a proper parking spot, then he hooked Gerome's leash to his collar and the two got out on the driver's side together.

They were standing in the middle of what he guessed was maybe ten acres of cleared mountaintop development. There was the hotel and there was the plant across the street and there was some sort of office park across from that. But nothing more.

The forest resumed behind and down from the hotel. Mark couldn't see well enough to explore that far, and he didn't want to walk in what he imagined was thick wet grass and mud, so he opted to pace the perimeter of the parking lot, which was lined by a narrow strip of grass. Gerome peed instantly.

Tree frogs were chirping in the distance. It would be morning in only a few hours. Mark's head was killing him and his eyes were sore. If he hadn't had those beers, then he probably would've been good to drive straight through. As it was, he needed shut-eye. At the very least, he needed to lie supine for a while. Maggie was taking forever, which he assumed was a good sign. She was getting them a room, and any minute she'd come out and retrieve the two of them.

But she didn't come out, not immediately anyway. So after Gerome had peed a second time, the two of them went in.

Tropical was how he'd describe the air if anyone asked, which no one did, so he kept the word to himself. Maggie was standing at the hotel's front desk; she was blousing her shirt for air. There was a couple standing opposite her, a very small woman and a very large man. Maggie was laughing.

Mark approached.

“What's the deal?” he said. He didn't address the couple.

“We have a room,” Maggie said. “And glow sticks.” She held up two plastic baggies.

“I told her,” said the small woman across from them, “we got cold running water and clean towels. We do not have air-conditioning. We do not have hot water.”

“Are there fans?” said Mark.

“We got fans,” said the large man. “We got plenty of fans. But we don't got power.” He laughed as though what he'd said was quite funny. “We also got two fridges filled with spoiled food if you're interested.”

“Isn't there a generator?”

“That broke two days ago,” Maggie said.

Mark looked back and forth between his wife and the couple. If there weren't fans, then what on earth were they still doing there?

“This is Tina,” said Maggie, “and this is Pete.”

Pete held out his hand. Gerome jumped up and licked it. Mark yanked on the leash.

“Sorry,” Mark said.

Pete wiped his hand on his pants. “Not a problem. We got seven at home. He can probably smell them on me.”

“Dogs?”

“Pure breeds. Boxers. We got two puppies right now. Folks say they want to come by to look, but nobody comes by just to look. Once you've seen 'em, you want 'em. I don't even have to advertise. So we're real careful about who we let see 'em.” Pete paused and looked at Tina. “Ain't we?” He nudged her.

Maggie took the leash from Mark. “Tina and Pete are engaged,” she said to Mark. “Pete doesn't actually work here. He's just helping Tina while the power's off.”

Pete held up his arms and flexed. He kissed his biceps one at a time, then smiled. “Call me the bodyguard.”

“How nice,” Mark said. He turned to Maggie. “If there's not air-conditioning, what's the point? We won't sleep. We won't even relax. Look at Gerome. He's already panting. He can barely breathe.”

Maggie looked down at Gerome, who looked up at her and seemed to smile. She scratched under his chin. “Panting is your way of sweating,” she said to the dog. “It's healthy.”

“You two need a minute?” Tina asked.

“We don't need a minute,” Maggie said. “It'll be fine.” She handed Mark the glow sticks. “I need to lie down. So do you.”

As if on cue, Gerome yawned.

“Bodyguard, eh?” Mark nodded. “There's a lot of crime up here? People up to no good?”

Maggie glowered at him. Mark knew the effect of his question, but he was irritated that she hadn't consulted him, pissed at the plan of paying money to sleep in a sealed-up room when they could just as easily sleep in the car with the engine running. He'd be much more comfortable in the front seat than in a room without air. Christ, he'd nearly drifted off while he was waiting for her! The car was plenty comfortable.

“No, no,” said Tina. “It's real safe up here.”

It was not what Mark was hoping for.

“But there's a certain type,” she added.

Better,
thought Mark.

“There's drugs on the other side of the mountain. Big trucks, loud music. Your basic ruffian, you know? But we never had a problem. No riffraff or horse thieves up here.”

Pete clucked his tongue. “Not entirely true, Miss Tina,” he said. “With the current situation as is, there have been some ‘instances.' ” He made quotations with his fingers.

“Instances?” Maggie said.

Bingo,
thought Mark. Five more minutes and they'd be back on the road. He was sure of it. They could sleep at the first truck stop. He was good for at least another hour if he had to be. In fact, he was probably good to drive straight through. He'd been wrong about the beers; they'd worn off completely. He had just needed some air; needed to stretch his legs. His eyes felt fine now. Everything felt fine. Do a couple jumping jacks, maybe a few squats, and then be back on the road. More than doable.

“Just some kids roughing up lawns at night and such,” said Tina. “Nothing to do with us or the hotel.”

Maggie nodded. Her face was shiny with sweat. “Just kids?” she said.

“You'll be fine,” said Pete. “That's why I'm here. Plus, I got some buddies staying in a couple of the rooms just in case.”

Maggie was nodding still. “Just in case?”

“Yep,” said Pete. He flexed his arms again and grinned.

Mark felt sure he'd won.

Maggie sighed. “Well,” she said. She looked at Mark. “If Pete says it's safe, then I guess it's safe.”

20

          Pete walked in front, shining the way with a floodlight. Mark was next, followed by Tina. Maggie and Gerome took the rear.

Maggie was surprised when they were led into a stairwell. She'd assumed they'd get a room on the main level. She was further surprised when Pete walked them not up the stairs, but down. She hadn't realized—how could she have?—that the hotel was built into a hill and that there was an entire basement level with windows looking out onto a back parking lot.

What Maggie liked about Pete and Tina was their youthfulness, their hopefulness and straightforwardness. There was something pleasantly stupid about Pete in particular that Maggie found comforting, as if he lacked the imagination necessary to commit any wrong. It was the right way for a man to be if he didn't have imagination: sturdy and loyal as a dog. There seemed in him the quality of indefatigable goodness, something god-inspired, she suspected. And, sure, ordinarily she tended to fall on the more judgmental side of people who actually practiced religion, but right then she felt protected by its rote unwillingness to tolerate evil.

The nearness of the stairwell, the metallic
ping
of the steps beneath her shoes, brought on a memory, one she'd not entertained in ages. On the night they met, after Mark's confident approach aboard that riverboat, they'd found themselves not three minutes into their acquaintance in a steep enclosed stairwell between the second and first floors of the ship. If there was a light, it wasn't turned on. Maggie had led Mark, his hand in hers—though the way was no more familiar to her than to him—down and out and into the pink dusk of early evening. The intimacy of those few moments in that tight space nearly a decade ago—the swampy smell of the Potomac, the humidity seeping in from the water beneath them—came back to her now full force. That night—she'd never told Mark—but that night she'd been on the brink of agreeing to a proposed affair with her advisor, a married man nearing sixty. Thanks to Mark, to his singular attention, she'd never followed through on her intentions. Years later, after she and Mark were married, after they'd moved safely from DC to Chicago, she learned that her advisor had been bounced from the program. Videos had been discovered. There were dozens of young women, all students, and he'd secretly recorded his trysts with every one of them. If it hadn't been for Mark, Maggie might easily have been among those tapes. Her entire life might be something wholly different than what it was now. What she realized at this moment: her greatest fear—well, her greatest intellectual fear—was of being left behind emotionally. Of being the one caught in that terrible limbo of still being in love when the other person has already left the room.

Gerome was skittish on the steps. His pads kept slipping. If he were a smaller dog, Maggie would have picked him up.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Pete stopped, and so did the small crowd behind him. He raised the floodlight in front of a door.

“This is the rear exit,” he said.

Mark nodded. “Got it.”

“Normally you can't go out it, but the emergency alarm isn't on.”

Mark nodded again. “Okay.”

“So if you need to walk the dog, this is the easiest way out.”

“Check,” said Mark.

“Wait,” said Maggie. “If the alarm isn't on, does that mean the door isn't locked?”

“We could bolt it,” Tina said. “But that'd be against fire code.”

Maggie didn't say anything. If Mark was waiting for a reaction, she wasn't going to give it to him.

Pete switched the aim of the floodlight. “Here's the door to the first-floor rooms.” He held it open and the others filed past him. “Tina,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “Let's put them in 101.” To Maggie, he said, “First door on the left there. You'll be nearby the exit. Good for the dog.”

“Problem,” said Tina, also now in a whisper.

Pete brushed by Maggie and Gerome; they were alone at the end of the hallway. Mark had his back to Maggie.

“What's up?” said Pete.

“101 wasn't closed,” Tina said.

Pete used the floodlight to push the door open a little wider; from the hallway, he shined the light into the room. “It's empty,” he said.

“Let's put them in another one anyway,” said Tina. “I don't like that the door was open.”

Maggie nudged Mark from behind. “Give me one of those glow sticks,” she said. “I can't see what's going on.”

“Better wait,” said Tina. “They only last so long.”

“Right,” said Mark. “Good thinking.” He put the glow sticks back in his pocket.

Pete led them down the hall to the next room. Maggie followed, still behind the pack. “This one's good,” he said.

“Check it out for them,” said Tina.

Pete opened the door and walked inside alone. After a few seconds he returned. “Clean,” he said. “Empty.”

“Go on in,” said Tina. “Get your bearings before we take the light away.”

Maggie and Gerome followed Mark in.

Pete shined the flashlight around the room. “Here's your bed,” he said. “Here's your second bed. Extra pillows here. Bathroom here.” He opened the bathroom door. “Your towels. The sink.” At each item, he shined the light briefly, then moved on.

Maggie watched the various corners of the room light up and then darken. The images were fast and still, more like photographs than real life.

She thought of that terrible movie about forests and witchcraft and children standing in corners. She thought of the coed.

She'd made a mistake insisting on staying.

This wasn't a good idea at all.

“Pete,” said Tina from the hallway, still whispering. “Show them about the glow sticks.”

“Right,” said Pete. He motioned for Maggie to join him in the bathroom. “If you tie one here”—with the flashlight, he lit up a small side mirror protruding from the wall—“then you get pretty good light and you don't need to waste more than one.”

“Thanks,” said Maggie. She was whispering too. “So there are other people on this floor?”

“There's a family across the way and some of my buddies down at the end. But you won't hear them.”

“Where do you two sleep?”

“We're up in the office,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

She wished she could sleep in the office with them. In numbers, there was safety.

She followed him from the bathroom back into the bedroom. Mark had snapped two of the glow sticks and was inspecting the windows.

Pete and Tina walked into the hallway.

“Be sure to lock the door behind us,” said Tina.

Maggie nodded.

“You have to use the lever, though,” Pete said. “It won't lock if you just close it.”

“It won't?”

Tina took the floodlight and came back inside the room.

“See?” she said. She showed Maggie how the lever worked. “The regular locks are automated. Without power, they're a no-go.”

“Oh,” Maggie said. What else had she failed to consider? It was one thing to sleep without a/c; it was something else entirely to sleep without a fully locked door.

“Get some rest,” Tina said. She walked into the hallway, and then she and Pete were gone.

Maggie stood in the darkness of the entryway. She closed the door and listened. There was the sound of Gerome's panting, the sound of Tina's and Pete's ascending footsteps in the stairwell, the sound of her own breathing. But that was it.

Mark came up behind her. He reached around her to lock, unlock, and relock the door. “Old school,” he said. “I like it.”

Without turning toward him, she reached for the doorknob and pulled. The door opened three inches before the lock caught. “You like this?” she said. She wedged her hand through the narrow opening. Her knuckles scuffed against the edge of the door's molding. “It still opens.”

BOOK: Listen to Me
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