Bad Loan

Ray stood on the side of the road waiting for a break in traffic. Three lanes of traffic flowed each way made jaywalking difficult. He had just moved from back east to Calgary with limited cash so the burger wars taking place just down the street from his seedy motel was a welcome relief. The thirty-nine cent cheese burgers just dropped to twenty-nine cents cheese burgers, by skipping breakfast, he could now eat two large meals a day for four dollars' taxes in. Ray was exhausted, wearing a light blue shirt, black tie and black pants, he had just spent the last six hours handing out resume's looking for any job he could find to get him into an apartment. The prospects were looking good, six businesses were advertising they needed full time help and he had two interviews on the spot. It seemed like the entire city was hiring. He always double checked if they came with mayo, he hated mayo and ordered extra mustard on the side. With six cheeseburgers, twelve extra packets of mustard, and having splurged on a medium coke he made his way back up the street. He dug into the first burger on the way back up the road to his Motel.

The walk to his motel was uphill, as the road bent to the left his Motel sat on the corner, looking down into the shopping district. It must have been a nicer place when built, but now the white siding was more soot brown than white, with large sections missing paint altogether. The motel stood in two parts. On the right jutting perpendicular to the road were six rooms on two floors, with an outdoor staircase and walkway looking down over the parking lot. The doors, also a dirty brown, with faded blue paint poking through where exhaust fumes had yet to completely cover. At the end was the main office where the large, balding, smelly, evening clerk sat watching porn on his I-phone. Ray's room was to the left on the second floor, room 231. He climbed the stairs with his warm burger bag, and full coke, having to move to the side of the hall to let a prostitute pass, her make up half done, a car horn blaring in the parking lot making her rush faster and yell to the driver she was coming and to shove his fucking horn.

Stripping himself of his shirt and tie, he flopped onto the rock-hard bed, flicked on the television & unwrapped another cheeseburger. Exhausted, it wasn't long before he started to drift off asleep, cheeseburger half eaten in his hand.

He woke suddenly to a heavy pounding on his door. He jumped to a sitting position and looked at the clock, 11:52PM. He didn't know anyone in the city and had paid for the room for a full week upfront. He got up and looked through the hole in the door. A man, in his early 40's stood in the hallway looking around nervously before banging on his door again.

"Who is it?" Ray asked.

"Hey man, I'm in a bad situation I need some help. Can you open up so we can talk, my name's Todd."

"I'd rather not, do you need me to call 9-1-1?"
"No, my truck up on the hill behind the motel is about to get towed, my wallet was stolen earlier today. The driver wants $50 cash now or he's going to take it. I need my truck for work in the morning. Please, if you could help me out man, I'm fucking desperate," he sounded desperate.

"So you need $50?" Ray asked, opening the door to the end of the chain

"Yes, please man, I'm in a bad way here. I can't let them tow my truck," there was something wrong with how this Todd looked at him.

"I wish I could, but I don't have $50 on me."

"There's a bank machine across the street at the gas station. I can wait in the parking lot for you to come back."

"Sorry man, I can't do it. I don't have a lot of money. I need what I've got."

"Please, please help a guy out. I need my truck man," Ray thought he was going to cry.

Fuck, he thought to himself, "Alright, give me five minutes," thinking this was a really bad idea.

"Oh serious dude? I love you, I can't thank you enough man. Listen, I'm also staying in room 216 on the other side of the motel. Come by in the morning at five A.M. and I'll have seventy dollars waiting for you. I'll pay you back with interest. I just need to get my truck and then I can talk to a buddy I work with who will loan me the cash to pay you back with interest. I'm good for it man. I'm solid."

"Okay, give me five. I gotta get my shoes on."

"Cool, I'll meet you downstairs," Ray put his shoes and pull over Nike hoodie on and pulled fifty dollars from the ATM and came back to the parking lot where Todd was pacing in circles waiting and now heavily sweating.

"Oh man, you're literally a life saver, thanks brother. Remember 5 A.M!" and with that Todd raced off around the back of the motel. He could hear Todd rustle through the bushes before popping up at the top of the hill behind the motel and jump the barrier and continue racing up the street. Ray shook his head and started to doubt his own skepticism, maybe he really was getting his truck towed. He walked slowly back to his room and re-locked his door.

He now sat wide awake in his room. Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon couldn't calm his mind. It raced and raced. Where was this guy going? Room 210, is this a set up? A trap? He began to think of potential horror stories of what could happen to him if he went over to that room. The minutes ticked by through the night. Each one felt like ten. Finally, the clock said 4:43 AM. He couldn't wait any longer. He slipped his runners on and slipped out the door. The hallway was unexpectedly crowded, two men following prostitutes back to their rooms met him and another John followed him to the stairs on his way back to the world in the early morning frost.

Ray crossed the parking lot and climbed the stairs to the other side of the Motel. Room 216 was third to the highway. As he reached the top of the stairs he could feel his heart beating, his hands sweating and clammy at the same time. What the hell am I doing? He said to himself, this is stupid, you're going to get stabbed or shot or mugged! He walked slowly to the door, as he got closer he noticed it was and his mind swirled. As he stood in the open doorway he knocked, no answer. It was obvious why, standing there, the room was empty. The bed had been stripped, mattress half on the floor, the dresser covered with crumpled papers. A sweet burning smell filled his nostrils.

"Hello? Todd?" he called out into the empty room. No answer. He took a step into the room, then another. Ray found himself standing in the middle of the motel room at the between the two queen beds. There on the floor lay blackened tinfoil several syringes and what he thought was a puddle of vomit.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Came a shout from the open doorway making Ray jump in his skin.

"Uh, oh, uh -."

"Spit it the fuck out man! You're in my room."

"Th-th-the door was open, Todd t-t-told me to meet him here at five for my money back," Ray starting trying to collect himself, sizing up this stranger at the same time wondering if he could bull-rush past him and run away. This guy wasn't overly big, but he looked nasty and solid, tattoos up his neck, and wild eyes.

"Todd? I'm Todd, I didn't tell you to meet me here. You better explain what the fuck you're doing in my room."

"Uh, I just did. This guy Todd asked to borrow fifty bucks so his truck wouldn't get towed. He said to meet him here at five and he'd pay me seventy back."

"Naw man. I never took no money from you. I got money."

"No, no, it wasn't you. It was another Todd or someone who said he was Todd."

"Sounds like you been had man, but now you're in my room and I didn't invite you."

"Look, I'll go. Just let me go."

"Two-hundred and you can go."

"What?"

"Two hundred dollars and you can go. And I won't cut you."

"I don't have any money. I don't even have my wallet with me. Seriously man, just let me go."

"Can't do it, it doesn't work that way when you get caught red handed in someone else's room uninvited," and he pulled a knife from his back pocket slowly opening it and walked toward him.

Ray began to back up with little steps. When Todd was within three feet he lunged blade first. Ray's hand had fallen on the dresser drawer handle and reactively pulled the drawer out. Todd bent over, stopped in his tracks by the drawer. Without thinking Ray grabbed his wrist and hand clutching the knife slamming it into Todd's neck, sickening gurgling noises filled the air as Todd fell between the two beds to the floor. The knife blade fully submerged in flesh.

"Holy fuck. Holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck" was all Ray could say under his heavy breathing.

Blood began to pool under Todd's head. Ray went to grab the bottom of his sweater and noticed blood on his hand. He pulled his hand inside the sleeve of his sweater before wiping the drawer knobs with the bottom of his sweater and spinning in circles moved toward the door. As he reached the doorway, he paused, taking several deep breaths trying to slow his breathing. He placed a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting. He took a look around the room and moved back to the dresser. With his hand still inside his sleeve he wiped all the crumpled papers on the dresser onto the floor. He looked down at Todd, if that's his actual name. The pool of blood had doubled in size and was growing underneath both beds as he stared in a daze. Dumbfounded by the events, he bent down and pulled the wallet out of the dead stranger's pants. He tucked it into the front pocket of his pants, turned around and walked out of the room.

Ray, now covered in sweat stopped hallway down the far set of stairs by the road and looked around him. The world kept moving while he stood still. He climbed to the bottom of the stairs and walked out to the road. He stopped, turned around and walked across the parking lot back to his room. He flopped onto his bed, pulling the wallet out of his pocket and opened it. The bill fold was stuffed with hundreds and two small plastic packets filled with white powder. He felt strange. He wanted to leave, go home. The realization of the situation slowly sinking in, if he left now he would be painting a target on his back as someone to find, whether the police or someone the dead man knew.

He looked at the clock, time slowed to a stop. He turned the hot water on in the sink and took the blood-stained sweater off and began washing his hands, trying to think. The sink turned a dark pink as the tainted metallic stream rose to his to his nostrils clouding his reflection in the mirror.


WC-1988