Bates Motel: Justin Bieber

Chapter 3

   The motel was difficult to take care of in the heat. The family had lots of outdoor maintenance to do. They hadn't had a chance to pull the weeds on the sides of the motel, and they didn't get to planting the tulips their mother wanted surrounding the motel. “Vi, bring me a watering can,” Tara grunted, swiping sweat from her forehead.

Violet hiked up the steps to the house, yanking the front door open. She came back out with a green watering can filled halfway with water. She was careful not to fall down the stairs, which has happened before at their old house. When she looked up, she noticed someone leaning against an, old-looking pick-up truck on the other side of the street. She figured it was just someone checking out the motel, since it's been on the market and shut down for almost two years.

“Here, mom,” she said, handing Tara the watering can.

“Thank you, honey. Why don't you go see what your father wants? He kept calling for me, but I'm busy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll go,” she groaned, stepping over the many bags of soil and she walked down to the office.  “What'd ya need dad?”

Charlie's reading glasses were resting on the tip of his nose, as he read the newspaper. “There's a man checking out the motel from the outside. The one with the pick-up truck. I was gonna have your mother do it, but her flowers are much too important,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, go see what he wants. Offer him a room, we could use all the business we can get.”

“What if he doesn't want a room? What if he just wants to know about the motel?” Violet asked in confusion.

“Here,” he said, handing her a folded piece of paper. “Give him this brochure.”

Violet snatched the brochure out of his hands and trudged over to the road. It was a pretty busy one, considering it was the only way to go in and out of the city. As Violet got closer, she noticed the man wasn't very old, and his eyes were following her every step of the way.

“Hey,” she chirped, examining the young man. “I'm Violet. My parents own this motel now. Are you interested in renting a room?”

“No.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Okay, well are you looking for information abou--“

“No. Do you mind?”

“Yes actually. That was a bit rude,” she said, deflated. “If you're just going to stand there like some weirdo the whole day, do you mind doing that at some other motel because we don't tolerate loiterers,” she flashed him a fake smile before turning around to head back.

The man outstretched his hand and grabbed her forearm before she could move any further, as a car sped passed them, honking.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Violet placed a hand over her chest, breathing heavily. “God damn it,” she whispered.

“You alright?”

“No . . . no, I'm not alright,” she said, becoming flustered. “Here,” she muttered, tossing the brochure at him and walking across the highway, as she gripped the top of her forehead.

She wasn't embarrassed, just frightened . . . Okay, and maybe a little embarrassed. She was so clumsy sometimes, but never has she once almost gotten hit by a car. “Who was that?” Max asked, only seeing her walk away from him.

“I don't know. He seems like a douche anyway,” she grumbled.

Even though he just saved you from becoming a pancake.

-

Violet laid on her bed, flipping through a magazine. An old record spinning on her turntable. Max burst through her door, ruining the moment she was having with Ryan Reynolds in her magazine. “Hey, can I borrow your--“

“No, Max! Get out!” She interrupted him.

“Sheesh, do you even know--“

“Yeah! My charger because you broke your last three? No thanks. Use Dad's,” she joked.

“Very funny. He has a prehistoric dinosaur phone. I wouldn't even consider it a phone,” he said, plopping on her bed.

“Who are you even texting? Sarah?” She grinned. “Who knew she'd still be hung up on you. Figured she'd be smart enough to not chase after you. Didn't she get her phone taken away anyway? What was it again? A dick pic?” Violet laughed. She knew that wasn't the real reason, but she liked to mess with Max like that.

“I hate you,” he gritted, pushing of her bed and slamming the door behind him.

“Aw, poor Maxi-Poo,” she shouted, opening her magazine back up. “Idiot.”

-

So who was the rude stranger? ;) I might update again tonight!