Glitch, page 6
***
Sitting on the bed and wearing just a towel, Sandra had finally washed after that crying fit. And she wished she had a spare towel to wrap around her wet hair. As well as a comb, a brush, a hairdryer, and some hair care products.
Letting it hang loosely along the sides of her face and down her back was the only way Sandra could think of to get it dry.
At the moment, her real focus was on TV. With the remote in her hand, Sandra flipped through the channels. Looking for any news about what happened to her, she only found a 24-hour news channel. But the people on-screen were sitting at a round table gabbing about how dysfunctional Washington politics is; and whether the coming 2012 presidential election will bring about any real change.
Switching off the TV, the girl tossed the remote on the nightstand between the beds where she found it. Sandra then figured her kidnapping didn't make the national news since people get snatched off the street daily.
Sandra isn't much of a news geek. She only watches the TV news at home if it's a big story. And even then, she'll scan the Internet for as much information as possible. Because, in her short life, Sandra has discovered that broadcast news rarely tells the whole story about anything. She doesn't know why; it's just the way it is.
Getting a slight chill on her left arm, she gave it a quick rub to warm it up. But in doing so, she felt a roughness there and looked down to see the scratched skin and redness where she had clawed herself earlier.
While that crying fit was over, Sandra still felt a little uneasy. And she certainly didn't want to turn on the waterworks in front of that man who saved her.
Getting off the bed, she drifted over to the cabinet. Opening the door to the mini bar, she looked at those little bottles inside.
Those bottles tinkled as Sandra searched for some vodka, but there was none. The 13 bottles sitting there were stuff she rarely touched, especially the whiskey and rum.
She finally settled for the Burnett's London dry gin and the 1800 Tequila, though she didn't want to drink that stuff.
Grabbing a fistful of that booze, she looked down at the emerald-green and sapphire-blue labeled bottles. She then figured it should be enough for now.
***
Stepping into the motel parking lot, Ike looked up at the room, and all he could think of was what he could say to that girl.
"Sorry about the clothes, but I got some food." Or "you can wrap yourself in a blanket for the rest of the night. I don't mind." Or "how about I get naked? That way, you won't feel so naked."
Pushing those potential remarks out of his head with a grumble, Ike knew they were silly, but he needed a solution and quick.
Looking over at the manager's office, he wondered if Willie had something she could wear. But remembering their conversation, he doubts he's the married type. It wouldn't surprise him if the last nude woman Willie had seen was in some porn video.
At that instant, something Ike had blanked out of his mind since the robbery suddenly came back to him. While going to the Lincoln, he pulled the car keys from his back pocket. Immediately opening the trunk, a pensive expression popped on his face. Looking back at him were four tote bags made of imitation leather, each a different color. But what pained him was the three that belonged to the robbery crew. "Why am I holding on to these things?" Ike wondered aloud.
He should have left them behind when he switched cars, but he didn't think about it. And he would've dumped them out in the desert when he met the girl, but that would've been too stupid.
It was bad enough that he left a dead body, but to discard such big pieces of evidence in the same place would be like dropping his wallet on the guy he shot.
But the purpose of him looking into the trunk had nothing to do with reminiscing about the robbery.
Ike felt a temporary solution for the girl's lack of clothing may lie in his brown tote bag.
***
Sandra stood in front of the sink in the bathroom with her head tilted back. The last of the Burnett's London Dry Gin went down her throat with a big gulp. And while she hoped it would smooth out her nerves, she knew it wasn't vodka. Instead, it was like drinking a liquefied Christmas tree since the taste of pine needles filled her mouth. However, this starkly contrasted with the tequila, which tasted like a kooky mixture of orange juice and pepper.
Dropping the empty green bottle in the sink, it clashed with the other two already there, but none broke.
But then the girl heard a different sound coming from outside the bathroom. It was the sound of the motel room lock jiggling as someone was about to enter.
Turning her head, Sandra shouted over her right shoulder, "Don't come in; I'm not decent!"
Ike had just cracked open the door when he heard the girl hollering. So he says through that crack in the door, "I got something for you to wear and some food. Go into the bathroom, and I'll give you the clothes through the door."
Ike didn't know she was already in the toilet, but that didn't matter as Sandra proceeded to hide her boozing.
Noticing a plastic wastepaper basket tucked underneath the sink, she dropped those empty bottles in that orange bin. Then, she quickly pulled a large stream of toilet paper off its roll.
Taking that paper in her hand, which wasn't soft, she balled it up and pushed it down on those bottles to hide them. She then grabbed the complimentary mouthwash and swallowed a mouthful.
Immediately, her face scrunched up as that strong yellow stuff went down her throat.
She let out a few coughs and uttered, "Oh, gross!"
Though it wasn't booze, that no-name mouthwash had a lot of something besides alcohol because it felt like she had just gulped down acid.
But if it kills her booze breath, she must accept the aftereffects, which are an awful burning feeling from her throat to her gut?
Pushing up the bathroom door until it was cracked open, Sandra shouted, "OK, you can come in now."
Doing so, Ike put the tote and food bags on the chest of drawers.
"I don't know if these will fit, but they must do for now," he says.
Unzipping the tote bag, Ike looked down upon the Colt 1911. This wasn't unusual since he chucked the gun into the bag back at the car. And the reasoning was simple: this thing might accidentally discharge if left rolling around in the trunk.
Pushing the gun off to one side and down a little deeper into the bag, Ike felt it wouldn't be a good idea for the girl to see it. It might be an unwanted reminder of what happened to her.
Grabbing a fistful of clothes from the bag, Ike went to the bathroom.
"Here are the clothes," he said, pushing them through that gap in the door. The girl took hold of that bundle. But just as she was about to thank him, Sandra paused upon noticing that this wad of clothes was relatively small. And she found out why when she finally unraveled it. Sandra couldn't believe what Ike had just given her.
"Is this a joke?" She says at the sight of the man's size T-shirt and briefs.
"It's part of a change of clothes I had in the car. I'm sorry, but it's the only thing I could think of. But don't worry; I'll get you something proper tomorrow."
The girl looked down at those items, twisted her lip, and wrinkled her nose. Wearing someone else's undies, especially some guy she barely knows, was borderline gross to her.
Sticking her nose to them, she noticed the aroma of what she could only describe as lilacs.
"At least they're clean," she muttered.
Unwrapping the towel from her thin body, the girl flung it into the sink. Tossing the underwear on top, she tried on the T-shirt first. But as she slipped it on, she abruptly shouted, "this is so embarrassing!"
And she did so because after wearing a skimpy outfit for most of the day, she wanted to wear something with more coverage.
Though the girl wasn't addressing her new companion with that shout, he heard her and responded.
"Well, I'm embarrassed that you're embarrassed," He said, openly mocking her.
Detecting that sarcastic tone in his voice, Sandra shouted with a hint of distress, "is that a joke! Well, it's not funny! Nothing that has happened today is funny at all!"
The girl's response was like a verbal slap to Ike. But it also caused him to recall all that happened that day.
He murmured, "Ya, sister, I guess you're right."
Finally, putting on the underwear, Sandra views herself in the mirror. Though it covered her naughty bits, she didn't feel right in this stuff. So much so that she seriously contemplated staying in the bathroom for the rest of the night.
But then her nose caught a whiff of something that smelled good. It was the food that Ike said he got. After which, the girl felt a slight rumble in her gut, and it wasn't some chain reaction between the booze and mouthwash. She then figured there were better ideas than camping out in the bathroom.
As she continued to smell that food, Sandra recalled that the only thing she had today was a protein shake, which ended up in the sink because Karl spiked it with anchovy paste.
Indeed, just before she went out on the catwalk, Karl admitted doing it. But he claimed pumping her drink with extra protein would prepare her for the show. And while she didn't say it to his face, Sandra wished Karl wouldn't do her any more favors like that.
Once he closed up the tote bag, Ike opened the fast-food bag. And the smell that burst from it was so damn good he was ready to eat everything in it himself.
Glancing over at the bathroom door, he knew it wouldn't be right. But he also knew if the girl took any longer to get dressed, he would eat without her.
Ike then shouted, "Are you coming — oh?"
He stopped in mid-sentence as Sandra exited the bathroom.
His shirt just hung on Sandra like a rag on a hook.
Grabbing the blue and white hem of the underwear, the girl jerks them up since they threaten to slip off. That was more than a signal to Ike that his undergarments were too big for Sandra's frame.
Ike thought she looked cute without the dirt and smeared makeup. In fact, he felt he had just won the lottery, having such a pretty girl with him and her wearing so little to boot.
Taking a smaller food bag out of the bigger one, he hands it to her. "I don't know what you model types graze on," he says, still not entirely convinced she was one. "But I hope this burger's OK."
"Thanks," she uttered as she took the bag.
The girl then settled on the bed nearest the bathroom. And as she went right to work on that sandwich, Ike put his butt down on the other bed.
After two bites, she proclaimed, "This is good. It's really great!" Then, looking over her left shoulder at him, she added, "This is the best burger I've had in — I don't know how long."
She added, "I almost forgot what hamburger tasted like, but that's because I'm not allowed to have red meat. So if I have something like this, it's made of chicken, fish, or..." She then shuddered as she went on, "tofu, which is totally gross on a bun!"
Ike didn't respond to her truth-telling, but that was because his mouth was full of food.
Taking a few more bites, Sandra quietly relished every bit of her tasty sandwich.
But with her eyes looking down at her food, she said with a hint of humility, "I'm sorry I bitched at you earlier about the clothes. I appreciate all you're doing..."
"You want an onion ring?" He interrupted her while holding out that bag of crunchy brown things.
Looking at that bag, the girl didn't respond. So Ike then shook the bag at her and said, "go ahead, take a couple."
Sandra did just that.
She grabbed the one on top of the heap and pulled out two stuck-together rings.
Despite having only one free hand, the girl got both rings in her mouth. As she munched them down, Ike said, "You're not the first demanding woman I've been with, so I'm not taking it personally."
"Are you always this patient?"
"I try to be. But, I guess a lady in trouble brings out the Prince Charming in me."
Sandra huffed as a slight smile popped on her face, and it was pure and untainted by distress.
Once they finished their food, Ike and Sandra were interested in today's news, especially if it had anything to do with them. But neither of them wanted to turn on the TV in the other's presence. Therefore, this ad hoc couple went to bed early after having such a tough day.
After washing secret sauce and other condiments from her hands, Sandra exited the bathroom and returned to the closest bed. Although she had no nightwear, it didn't matter to Sandra since nightgowns weren't her thing. The girl then recalled how her mom had drawers full of those pretty things, and she would sometimes lounge around the house in them till well past noon.
But Sandra's idea of nightwear usually depends on the seasons. In the wintertime, she would wear a T-shirt to bed. And she will add legwarmers to that if a blizzard comes. And in the summer, she wears panties. But if it becomes disgustingly hot, she won't even bother doing that.
But since she doesn't have room to herself, she'll have to keep on what she has.
Ike, however, was quietly getting undressed as he sat on the opposite bed. Then, as Ike faced the door, he planted his pants on a pea-green polyester chair between his bed and the room's only window. Ike also was allergic to traditional night clothing since they always made him feel too hot under the sheets.
As he undid his tie, Ike kept on his T-shirt and briefs. That way, Sandra won't think he's about to attempt to do the nasty with her by getting naked, which is how he usually sleeps. Pulling back the bed's top coverings, Sandra caught a whiff of a weird smell like chemicals or detergent.
That prompted her to say, "Oooh! What's that?"
The question was purely rhetorical and not directed at her companion, but Ike didn't know that. Turning counterclockwise just enough to where he could look over at the girl, Ike asked, "What is it?"
"It's this bed," she answered while waving her hand over it. "It smells funny."
"Humph. That's not surprising. Knowing these cheap motels, it's disinfectant, which means someone died in that bed, or they had lice."
"Oh, Gawd!" she thundered.
As her face scrunched up, the girl considered sleeping on the floor. But, unfortunately, that option is less inviting than the bed. Waving her hand in front of her nose, the girl sighed. Having two bad choices on where to sleep, Sandra swallowed her reservations and used the bed since someone attempted to clean it.
Gingerly, Sandra climbed into the bed. But she quickly realized that the bed was as flat as a board, and it felt like one. She then thought it would be a surprise and a half if she got any sleep on this thing.
With most of his clothes on that chair, Ike was about to get in his bed. He noticed the brown telephone on the nightstand between the beds. That prompted him to say, "Did you get in touch with your family yet?"
With the bed coverings up to her chin, the girl turned her head slightly and said, "huh?"
He then gestured at the phone and said, "yeah. Did you let them know you're OK?"
Looking over at that phone, it was strange that she didn't notice it before since that was the same place where the TV remote was. Sitting up slightly, the girl seemed hesitant as she reached over and picked up the receiver.
Looking over at Ike, she said with an almost cheery tone, "you know what. I'll call them tomorrow."
Once she put the receiver back on the phone, Sandra said, "g'night, Ike."
As she rolled over on her side, away from him, Sandra pulled the bed coverings past her shoulder.
Looking dead at the girl, the only thing Ike could say to her was, "yeah. Same to you, sister."
Once Ike hit the light switch near the door, the soft luminosity of the town bled into the room through that window, giving everything in that interior a very subtle bluish glow.
But as Ike moved over towards his bed, the girl's kidnapping tale was falling apart inside his head.
Once he got under the covers, Ike looked over at the girl. He then felt that his first instincts about her were on the money, that she must be a prostitute. Ike also presumed that she was in no hurry to contact her pimp.
Letting out a slight sigh, he thought it wasn't suitable for such a pretty girl to be in that racket.
If Sandra worked in his regular ZIP code, she would be a high-class call girl.
Unfortunately, he knew they would never meet, at least not as the ho and the client. Because while he bumps into girls like that all the time at his regular job, there's no way he can afford to hire one at $2,000 an hour for the whole girlfriend experience. Ike then wondered what working on the girl underneath the sheets would be like.
Ike then thought her pussy must be yummy, and that little ass must really be tight.
He definitely would have propositioned her if he had met her under different circumstances, like the night before. And since things are cheaper here than in his regular ZIP code, she'll likely charge him less.
Hearing Sandra grumble as she shifted below her sheets, Ike turned away. Then, as he slowly tried to sleep on his own not soft mattress, Ike knew having sex with this girl would only be a dream in every sense of the word.
A sense of gladness slowly grew inside the girl despite lying in a strange place. And while this feeling started when she ducked out of calling her mother a few moments ago, its real spark occurred when they first reached this town.
She realized that this total stranger had no intention of picking up where her kidnapper had left off.
Sandra hadn't felt this way since the New York incident because it wasn't just gladness she was feeling. It was that she could do whatever she wanted, anything at all.
Even eat a real cheeseburger with onion rings. And Sandra smiled at that thought despite having an oniony breath from her meal.
With no insight into what may come tomorrow, the day after, or the remainder of the week, Sandra was sure of one thing; she didn't want the way she was feeling now to stop.
