A Small Town

Chapter Three\ Massie

Bax entered what Primacy had the audacity to call downtown with sore feet and a bad back. Of course, 'downtown' consisted of only the boarded up Town Hall, the boarded up church, the aforementioned bookstore and Irvings General Store.The general store was now more of a farmers market where locals brought their goods to sell to each other. If anything it should have been called Irving's Consignment Store... but even that would be a lie as it was now run by Heather Munday who was a distant relative of Marshall Irving, another of Primacy's long dead entrepreneurs.

Bax passed all of these places on his long walk from Bob's Gas station to the Hotel and spared barely a glance at any of them. His duffle bag had gotten heavier and heavier as he walked and now he just wanted a room, with a bed and more than anything a bathroom. He had to piss so bad his back teeth were floating.

The White Birch Hotel was a squat two-story building and he entered the double front doors loudly and let his bad mood take it from there. He didn't notice the threadbare burgundy carpet, that must have been quite spectacular when it was new. He paid no attention to the immaculate front lobby with its comfortable armchairs and antique Tiffany lamps. He ignored the crystal chandeliers and valuable oil paintings. He didn't even blink at the brass fittings and the, one hundred years if it was a day, old cash register on the concierge's desk.

What he did notice, was that there seemed to be no one working in the place. There was a silver bell on the desk, the round kind with the little dinger on top and he slammed his hand down on it in frustration.

Ding!

He waited for a long moment as the sound hung in the air and slowly faded to silence. Nothing happened.

After thirty seconds he hit it again, twice for good measure.

Ding! DING!

The second ding was louder because he had hit the bell harder. This had the effect of a louder initial sound but the ding didn't reverberate the way it should as it was muffled by his palm.

Nothing, the place was as still as a church and Bax knew something had to give. Either he was going to start screaming and throw the damn little bell through the front window or he was going to start screaming and piss his pants. Unfortunately, he also knew that if he attempted the former he was much more likely to achieve the latter.

This was ridiculous, Bax pummelled the little bell with the side of his fist.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Where, the Hell, was everybody? Bax looked wildly around the empty lobby and then reached down and grabbed his crotch like a toddler, willing himself not to give in to the pressure.

At that very moment, a woman came sweeping down the curved stairway from the second floor. And so, the very first time Sara Massie saw Jeff Baxter he was grimacing in agony and pinching the head of his penis.

The first person Bax met in Primacy was Bob Kout but if there was an exact opposite of Bob Kout then was it Sara Massie. Where he was old and dirty, she was young a lovely. Bob's face hung like an old bulldogs backside, Sara's lit up the room. He smelled like diesel and motor oil and she... well, you get the idea.

Bax suddenly forgot he was hot and sweaty with aching feet and a full bladder. At that moment he would have paid a thousand bucks to sleep in the dumpster out back just to be near Sara Massie.

Sara smiled at him a little condescendingly, "Can I help you sir, or are you just here to test the Bell?"

Bax smiled at her stupidly, "Oh – uh sorry about that."

She didn't acknowledge his apology as she crossed the lobby passing within a foot of him. Bax caught a whiff of her perfume, sweet and flowery. The perfume of a much older woman. She took her place behind the registration desk and pulled out a large leather-bound book.

"How long will you be staying, sir?" She asked. Her voice was very feminine with a childlike lilt, reminding him of Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot.

He watched her mouth form the words and found himself mesmerized. Her lips were a deep red and her teeth very white. As she spoke he glimpsed her tongue and imagined kissing her. Imagined her tongue sliding wetly over his own. He didn't need to urinate anymore, the human body can put such things away when other, more important needs come to the forefront. Bax hadn't been with a woman for over a year. Relations with Norma had dried up, just like their marriage and he hadn't bothered with dating since the divorce. He certainly wasn't the kind of man who would use a prostitute. Not because he had some moral code to adhere to, but because he was afraid of getting caught.

"Sir, are you alright?"

He hadn't answered and now she was looking at him with concern. Get a grip Bax – get a fuckin' grip you hornball.

"Sorry, uh, just the night. My car broke down up the road..." He said, feeling like a moron. He pulled out his Amex card and put it on the desk as she wrote in the big black ledger.

She raised a thin blond eyebrow at the card. "Sorry Sir, cash only."

What the fuck kind of hotel doesn't take credit cards he thought. Then he realized, there was no electricity here either. The Tiffany lamps on the little round tables by the armchairs were dark, the crystal chandelier was catching the last rays of sunlight from the windows and the brass fittings all around were not just decorative – they were oil lamps and candle holders. Someone, maybe this lovely young girl, would go around once the sun was down and light them. If she didn't the whole place would be in darkness.

Sara turned the ledger for him to sign and took the cash from his hand. Thirty-two dollars, he had exactly three dollars left in his wallet and sure as shit there was no ATM in this backwards village.

She led him up the staircase and down a short hall to room fifteen. She opened the door with a key and then handed the key to Bax. It was silver and attached to a big flat black fob with "White Birch Hotel" on one side in fancy gold script and a big number fifteen on the other.

Inside the room was like any other hotel room, if a bit dated. Two double beds against the right-hand wall with a small side table in between. There were reading lights above each of the bed, useless without electricity but a brass oil lamp stood on the table and she crossed to light it before turning to leave.

He stood watching her walk. She moved like a dancer or a model, rolling her hips and putting one foot directly in front of the other. He could imagine her walking with a pile of books balanced on her head in some old movie, but her character would be the kind who would snap her bubble gum at you and give you a wink from underneath the heavy volumes. Full of poise but girlish and saucy.

She stopped at the door and turned back, "If you need anything just come down to the front desk. I should be there but if I'm not, you know how to ring the bell." She said, then she winked at him and shut the door.

Bax stood there, staring at the closed door trying to decide if he had imagined the wink. He had seen her do it in his mind's eye just moments before, but then she really did wink – didn't she?

He had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the door and thinking. It was the sudden warmth spreading down his leg that broke the spell. He looked down incredulously.

Jeff Baxter had pissed his pants.