One
It seemed like the road never ended.
It just kept going, and going.
The wind whipped my face, humid and hot. It was in stark contrast to Michigan's cold, bitter, dreary weather. The sun was so bright. Another thing I wasn't used to. The highway to Louisiana was daunting. If you missed your exit here, from what I read, you were kind of screwed for the next hour until you could turn around.
After a while, the monotonous process of switching lanes, speeding up, slowing down, and watching for the next exit was almost calming. I needed that. It was hard not to think about why I left. It would get easier though. That's what everybody always told me - it gets easier.
I checked my back seat to make sure my cargo was safe. Two saxophones and three suitcases full of clothes. My sole belongings. I felt my phone buzz. I had to resist the strong urge to check it, even though I knew who it was. I was almost tempted the chuck it out the window.
Two
My car rolled into a small, neon lit parking lot. Stepping out of my car, I looked around. A thick, hot breeze brushed past me while I walked through to the front desk. I was unimpressed with the staff to say the least. The receptionist was a heavy man with patchy, sparse facial hair. He looked at the computer screen in front of him slack-jawed and didn’t even notice me approaching. I cleared my throat and he slowly turned his head at me.
“Come fer a room?”
“Yeah.” I thought, why else would I be here?
“Ye got a reservation?” I nodded my head, and pulled out my wallet to grab my credit card. He looked at me and let his mouth hang open a little bit more. “We ain't got a card reader here. Cash only.”
I gawked at him. I was a couple hundred miles to New Orleans, and I could not afford for this to happen.
“How much are rooms for the night?”
“Three hundred.” I shook my head.
“That’s not what it said on the website,” I looked around, “it actually looked a lot better on the website too.” The man shrugged.
“Probably looked at a diff’rent thing. Anyways, 300 for the night, cash only.” I gritted my teeth.
“Know of any other motels in the area then?” The damn yokel was probably just trying to jip me. He smiled (his teeth were yellow and black) at me.
“Nah. We the only one for about a hundred miles.”
I leaned on the counter, cringing away from his tobacco breath. I read his faded name tag.
“Listen… Andrew. Is there any deal that I could make with you?” I became very aware of the jewelry on my wrist. I saw him glance at the silver glint of the bracelet my sister had given me.
“Pretty chunk o’ silver ye got there,” He said, tapping the desk. I unclasped it and hid it in my back pocket.
“Not an option.” I looked through my wallet again, and counted a hundred and thirty five. Gas and food money that I was reluctant to use. “Okay. You said three hundred and the website said one hundred. I have one hundred and thirty. Is that good enough?” Andrew seemed to consider it for a second, sticking a wad of tobacco in his mouth. He spit out an arc of juice into the trash can and looked at me.
“Two hundred’s the lowest I’ll go.” I cursed and banged on the counter. I might as well withdraw another two hundred.
“Do you have an ATM?”
