Bonnie and Clyde

Chapter Six: Cheap Motel

She'd fallen quiet, and had stayed that way for a while, but my head hadn't stopped pounding.  The quiet was good, though, gave me a moment to think.  She'd been crying softly, sniffing every so often, but I blocked her out, focused.  I didn't think she wanted me to see, anyway.  She was turned away from me, staring out the window.

Her mouth was clamped tightly shut when I pulled into the parking lot of one of those cheap motels and turned off the engine.  It might have been nice, once, years ago, before it got so run down and time had worked it into a shabby wreck, windows in the reception room cracked and full of spider webs, flakes of the old white paint caught up in them.

The rain had stopped again, the night was still.  A soft, inconsistent ticking sound was coming from the engine as hot metal cooled, the only sound besides the wind far overhead. I

Bonnie was back from where ever her mind had taken her, and was focused out the front window, confused and jumpy again.  She noticed the building, facing out over the car park, then turned questionably to me.

"What the hell is this?"

Obviously, she wasn't refering to the motel; I was sure she could recognise one.  The question was bigger than that.  Why are we here?  Why were we stopping when her would be killers were right behind us?

But, hey, ask stupid questions, get stupid answers.

"A motel?" I offered, cocking an eyebrow.  I said it like a question, evading hers, again, and her frustration showed, a deep scowl pasted over that pretty face.

"For drug dealers," she stared incredulously at the building, then at me.  "And hookers."

"Is that a problem?"

"I'm not a fucking hooker, so yeah."

I looked over to her again, letting my eyes linger, and she squirmed, turning back to the motel, away from me, and crossed her arms across her chest, and glared back at me.  I lifted my gaze and she held it, angry, challenging.

"Did I pick you up off the fucking corner?"  I asked her gruffly.

She blinked, frowned, and shook her head, confused.

"No."

"So, I'm aware that you're not 'a fucking hooker'."  I smirked as she continued to glare, then, with a quick once over, added, unable to help myself, "doubt I could afford a girl like you, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  She demanded, but I dropped it, and shoved my door open, stepping out into the wet night.  I had a duffel bag in the back seat, stuffed full of random shit; clothes, money, an extra knife.  An A4 envelope, hidden beneath everything else, in the bottom of the bag.  I grabbed it and slung it over my shoulder, slamming the door after.

"Wait."  Her door opened, as well, and she scrambled out, glancing between me and the reception building, again.  "We're actually staying here?"

Her voice was high pitched, small, her eyes wide with disbelief.  She had her arms folded around herself, in a child's protective stance, scared. But then, maybe it was more from the cold than being pissed off with me, like she was, moments before.

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, squinting up at the sky, blinking away the fine mist that drizzled over us.  The clouds were heavy with it, still, sky threatening to open up at any moment.  "I can't exactly drive all night."

Fuck, I was sick of the rain.

"But..." She was desperate, now, fidgeting shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  She looked so lost, so afraid, and I actually felt bad for her.