Chaotic (sequel to Psychotic)

Chapter 7

We had easily reached the motel within a half an hour; it was hard to miss. A large, neon-red sign illuminated it while the sun could not, already sinking beneath the horizon. But even in the growing dark I could see it was a cheep, shabby little building. It was plain in color, and only a few cars sat in the small parking lot. You could hear the static from the sign hanging above us. 

"Ashbury Motel," Harry read. "Must be the town we're in." 

I shrugged. "Never heard of it." 

He looked behind him at the vacant road. "Doesn't look like many people have," he said absentmindedly. He took his time in examining the quiet, dark streets for someone to walk by or pass us in their car to refute his point. But nobody did. 

So we continued through the doors of where we would be staying. A bell rang as we entered the dimly lit lobby. Well, if you could call it that. It was really more of a small room with a front desk and elevator. There were glass doors to the right, no doubt holding dozens of rooms. The walls were a navy blue that didn't match the light wood of the desk. 

A man was standing there, his head snapping toward us when we entered. He fit the atmosphere of the place perfectly. He looked about thirty, with an unshaven, prickly face as if he were trying to grow a beard. The dark hair from his too-small head had a greasy shine to it. 

"Are you looking for a room?" he asked us. 

"Yes, please," Harry said as we approached. But the man had not been asking him. Instead he looked to me, and a little too closely. He eyed me in a way that wasn't just polite eye-contact. 

Harry's eyes followed the man's gaze, flickering between us. "Just for tonight," Harry said with a slight edge to his tone. The man only glanced at him for a moment, looking down at pad of paper that lying on the wood.

"Alright . . . one night'll cost you five pounds even," he spoke. When he looked up again it was to me. To my lips, then my chest, then back up to my face. They were quick glances, but Harry tensed. He noticed. 

"My eyes are up here, prick," Harry spat, stepping in front of me slightly, as if to shield me away from this man who was of no real danger. 

"Will," I warned, grabbing his arm. He needed to calm down. We had only stepped inside seconds ago and he was already picking a fight. 

"Whoa," the man said, putting his hands up in defense. This time he gave Harry his full attention. "Settle down now, I'm just trying to get y'all a room." 

Harry was about to say something in response, but I squeezed his arm tighter. He clenched his jaw to keep from talking back at the harmless employee. Creepy, yes, but harmless, by the looks of his skinny arms and thin torso. He walked back to the wall where there hung over a dozen room keys. A small TV sat on a table off to the right. 

While he snatched it from its hook I released Harry's arm to go into the backpack on his shoulders. I dug for the right amount of money while Harry stood unmoving. 

"Room 107," the scruffy man said, holding the key in his hand. "First floor, just through those doors." When I set the money on the counter and he counted it, he held the key out for Harry. He was still careful not to meet my eyes. 

Harry snatched it from his grip and then turned away, resting his hand on my back to guide me. We pushed through the doors that lead us to the different rooms, and I spoke when they closed shut behind us. "You didn't have to do that." 

"Do what?" Harry asked. He knew exactly what. 

"Freak out back there. I thought we were supposed to be laying-low. All he was doing was looking at me, you could've just let it go."