Mafia Darling

18 | Hello, Jack (Ella)

My stomach rumbles. I inhale the smoky musk of the shitty mattress and motel room, hoping it will disgust me enough to make me lose my appetite, but my stomach keeps grumbling.

I sigh and get dressed again. I'm trying to spend as little as possible; I have one more bus trip tomorrow, and then I'll reach the city. Who knows how long it will take to land a job, so every penny counts, but I have to eat. I skipped both lunch and dinner.

I head over to the little diner that accompanies the motel plaza and order the cheapest thing that looks satiating. I sit in a booth by myself, away from the few other patrons, and wait for my kid's size chicken salad and water to arrive. The diner, and the motel, aren't anything special. Based on the conversations I heard and the smell, I'm pretty sure there's a drug operation somewhere, but it was the best I could do.

As I wait, I glance around. A travelling family sits in another booth on the other side, ravaging through burgers and fries. It's two dads, a little girl, and a little boy. It's almost midnight, but time is barely a concept when you're road tripping. They smile as they chat and eat, and I feel an ache in my heart because I don't have memories like that, and that's something I can't change. My childhood is already gone.

My food arrives, and I chew slowly, savoring it. Nothing tastes as good as literally anything when you're hungry.

The man sitting at the counter suddenly catches my eye. He's alone, sipping on coffee and flipping through a newspaper. He doesn't look more than a few years older than me. His hair is brown; it looks soft. His eyes are such a vibrant green that I can tell what color they are all the way from here. He's dressed nice in a casual businessman sort of way, and I wonder if he's headed for the city, too.

His head suddenly turns, and I hide my face behind my hand, but it's the waitress he turned toward. She refills his coffee, and then he's alone again.

He's cute. He looks like a boy I had a crush on when I was in middle school, except Daniel Lowry had brown eyes, and he loved sniffing glue. This guy doesn't look like the glue type.

I keep eating and staring at him. I've had more crushes than I can count on my hands and toes, but none of them led to anything...except Marco. He was my first kiss.

I bite my lip, remembering that sensation. I want to feel it again for someone who isn't Marco, because I can't have him. Maybe I'll find someone in the city who can do this for me....someone who can be my first time.

Or maybe, in the middle of the night at this motel I'll never visit again, I'll have it.

When I'm done eating, I take a leap of faith and sit one seat away from the man at the counter.

"Hi," I say.

He looks at me, his eyes even more gem-like up close. "Hello," he says back, a little amused. 

"Kind of late for coffee, isn't it?" I joke.

He takes another sip, smiling. "Force of habit," he admits.

"I'm Anne," I say, sticking out a hand.

"I'm--"

I shush him by holding up a finger. "I don't want to know your name," I say quietly. "We're never going to see each other again. I'm going to call you Jack."

He tilts his head, confused, but he doesn't try to tell me his name anyway. "Alright, then."

I smile, relishing the small victory that he didn't just tell me to get lost. I'm making a stupid choice; I'm not truly in the mood, but I'll make it happen. I want to get Marco out of my mind, and maybe Jack can do it for me. Marco's kiss cannot possibly be more memorable than my first time, even if the sex is mediocre.

"I'm going to cut to the chase," I say, closing the gap between us by sliding into the seat next to him. "I want you to come to my room."

Jack regards me silently. I begin mentally cringing. There are probably hotter ways of saying you want to fuck. 

But he pays for his coffee, stands, and holds his arm out to me. A warm blush works its way across my face, and I loop my arm around his, and together, we walk out of the diner.

I gently lead us toward my room. It's a bit of a walk, and we talk as we go.

"It smells like shit here," he comments. "I think there's a drug operation in the back."

I nod my head in agreement. "Me too!"

"Really?" he laughs. "I was just kidding. What makes you think that?"

"Well, it smells like weed, though that's not the kind of drug people scream and shout over. I saw a guy carrying Erlenmeyers' into his room. No fear, no shame."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "So you think they're cooking meth?"

I shrug. "Maybe. I also heard two guys screaming in the back about baggies. Take that as you will."

"Jesus. And I thought this was five-star hotel."

I smile. It's not really a funny joke, but he says it with such flat, bored deadpan that I can't help but find it funny. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

"So I'm not allowed to tell you my name, but you want to know what I'm doing? Seems a little strange." He grins. "If I answer, will you tell me what you're doing?"

"Scout's honor."

"I'm going to a career fair in the city," he says. "I'm too broke for airfare, so I've been driving. This motel was the only one in the right place on the way."

That explains the suit, though if I were him, I wouldn't be wearing it at this time of night. "I'm also going to the city," I say, "to look for a job."

"So this is your only night in the motel?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been to this motel before?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Never plan on coming back, either."

He laughs. "Don't blame ya."

We stop in front of my room. It takes two tries to slip my key in, and my blood starts roaring in my ears. Jack is cute. He's funny. He's going to the city, and I hope he doesn't get a job there. This situation is too embarrassing. I want him to fuck me, and then I never want to see him again, because I'm not doing this out of love for him. I'm doing this out of love for Marco, and then Jack will join him on the list of boys who once mattered to me, even if it was for a little bit.

I let him enter and then close the door. He looks around my room like it's some grand thing that isn't identical to his, and he gives me a thumbs up.

I laugh as he sits on the corner of the bed, looking up at me with small smile.

"I have to ask," he says. "Are you a worker, or do you just like me?"

I shake my head and carefully place a hand on the side of his face, stroking a thumb across his cheek. "I'm not a worker," I say. "I don't expect payment. I just want a little fun."

He turns his head into my hand, but he sighs. "You're sweet, Anne," he says. "I hope you find that job."

I sense a change in his demeanor; not a frightening change, but the interest he showed before is gone, and I take my hand back, disappointed.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He opens his mouth to answer, but at that exact moment, the door is kicked in behind me. I shriek and whirl around, and standing there, livid, is Marco.