What's Your Name?

Chapter 6: You're a Dick.

I shoved the bag in the back of the truck and slammed the bed closed. In the passenger seat was Bernie, and in the back was Aracelia and Maria. I secured everything and slapped the side of the truck.

"Awright boys! Let's get this show on the road!" I hopped in the front seat and let the windows down. All of the seniors going to Atlanta were to meet at a restaurant for breakfast, and then we'd all arrange money and everything else once we were eating.

Like proper business people. I mean, we are the future of America...hopefully.

Upon reaching the restaurant, I ordered french toast, orange juice, bacon, and sausage. Next to me, everybody else's plates were full. As I finished eating, I gathered everyone else around the table and counted up everything.

"Everyone has their spending money hopefully. The recommended amount was at least $500, but that's only if you don't plan on going to the strip clubs," I eye a couple of the boys in the back of the group as they chuckle. "But the hotel package we got will run each person $35 a day if you split it with three others, but if you want your own bed and you're just bunking with one other person, that'll be $70 each, and if you're by yourself that'll be about $100 flat."

"You ain't do that math right, Victoria," Maria whispered. 

I looked at her and smiled. That's where she was wrong.

"The single bed hotel is quite cheaper than a double bed for some reason, so if you got sleeping bags, a couple of blankets and a lack of respect for personal space, then you can get a one-bedroom and bunk up. However, I don't suggest that. Cause its gross."

Everyone forms a line and passes me the money and writes down who they're bunking with. Automatically I was bunking with Maria, but Arcelia decided to join in with us. Bernie, on the other hand, decided he wanted a room to himself in case he got lucky. I was going to tell him to save his money, but when I thought about it, it wasn't worth the effort.

When we reached Atlanta the air felt thick and humid, and the bugs began following us immediately. I texted the group chat the address of the hotel but told them to go out and explore the area first before checking in, for I still had to get everything situated. In the end, we ended up with five rooms: two double beds and three singles. My mini backpack was quickly filled with twelve keycards, and stupid pamphlets the lady at the counter gave me for coupons nobody would ever use.

When I put all of the stuff that was in my truck into my room, I texted the group chat an update once again.

Me: Rooms checked in. Come see me in room 546A for keys :)

Uncle Gramps: I hope ion find no dead body in my shits
The Great Niggerachi: You sound like you're speaking from experience
Uncle Gramps: I might just be...
Ur Mom's Left Nip: aw naw
Ur Mom's Left Nip: is it too late to switch rooms????
Ur Mom's Left Nip: time sensitive question

Me: Okay y'all...just get to the fucking hotel  🤦‍♀️

I laughed at the weird group chat and decided to go and find something to eat after this. In the back of my mind crawled a curious picture of reddish skin, stubby fingernails, and a small smile. The lemonade fragrance clouded my nose and I heard words babble in the air around me. Invisible fingers pointed at me and placed the blame on me. 

I wanted the fingers to go away. I wanted the smell of him out of my head. I wanted to forget. I dialed a number in my phone and waited for a voice to come on.

"I'm down here in Atlanta, where can I get some stuff?"

"Nigga some stuff? Like, materialistic objects? Crack? A slave? Be specific!"