The Duns

A Rude Receptionist- And A Dear Friend

Chapter Fourteen

Peter

The Motel I had rudely imprisoned Ester in is a thirty-minute ride from the city. I have never felt even a pang of emotion- apart from anger- towards this cowardly member of my family but seeing the broken 2 story structure that he has been living in since almost a month now invokes a surprising feeling of guilt and neglection.

The reception walls are damp, as are the red carpets that are rolled out, probably to cover an unfortunate event of a traveler with a weak stomach. An icky green is plastered over the walls, tainted and dirty. It smells of rotten eggs, the worst kind of rotten eggs one could ever imagine. Our shoes literally make splotching noises as we reach the desk.

A girl, probably in her mid-twenties, sits behind the desk, her black hair is tied up messily, in a bun, the ends of her hair is a sudden yellow, earphones plugged in. Her left leg is lazily resting on the top of the table, her right shoe on a muddle of important looking red tape, but it doesn't feel like she cares. The girl wears a loose red shirt, exposing a little too much skin, and long, fitted striped leggings (purple and black) that dig into her leather boots. She is chewing something uncaringly and her ringed eyes and dainty fingers are busy in the task of polishing a much necessary coat of pink nail paint on her left toes.

I stand back in the shadows and allow Cathy to take the lead for this one.

"Hi!" Catherine says excitedly. I force down a smile, trying to keep a straight face, but failing.

The girl looks up at us. The amount of makeup on our faces (incase things go wrong and the police asks eye-witnesses for a statement) is a single grain of sand compared to the dessert her face is covered with. Unfortunately, my vocabulary does not have enough of terms to explain in detail her exact features, but her lips are a shade of navy blue, and thick black mascara outlines her eyes, making her look like a panda, a pessimist panda, the decor of the room fitting in with her plans of becoming the Asian animal perfectly.

"What?" she manages to spit out, "can't you see I'm doing something?"

"Right. Sorry about that," Cathy falters, "the thing is, we're here to meet a friend, maybe you could tell us his room number?" she persists, "um, his name is Ester O'Connor..."

"Okayy, listen up girly," the girl says rudely and unnecessarily to Cathy, "Just 'cause I work, and you go to college doesn't mean I'm any lesser than you. It doesn't mean I do your work. So shut your tiny little mouth and leave. Oh, and take your bubbly rainbows along with you. We ain't breeding no unicorns here."

I step ahead. "Ester O'Connor. Where is he? Quick." I know it is no use replying back to her surly comments.

"Oooooh, guess who got herself a boyfriend??" she bulges open her eyes and presses her mouth into a pout and juts her face forward, mocking Catherine.

I slam my hand down on the desk. We don't have time for this nonsense. "Can you hurry up!"

She smirks and leans back, "calm down, blue-" she says referring to my eyes. Oh no. I'm getting angry. Cool down, cool down, cool down. But I'm not fast enough. She jumps out of her seat suddenly, shrieking, " your eyes ain't blue anymore! They're freaking orange! Who are you? Aaaahh! Aliens!"

I roll my eyes and reach over, clasping her throat in my hand. I stare straight down at her eyes, mine most likely still burning red, "Ester O'Connor." I say to her. She gurgles out something, probably a threat, "Ester O'Connor," I repeat impatiently. Another incomprehensible sound leaves her gasping mouth.