“Yeah, but on top of yesterday’s eight hours.”
“Okay, you’ll get used to it, besides we’ll be here for a while and you’ll get a chance to recover. You want to get us a table in the restaurant while I get us a room?”
“How about let’s do it the other way around?” Tess asked.
I cocked my head. “Any particular reason?”
“No, I’m just trying to share the workload. I’m your apprentice; I need to feel like I’m helping out.”
I shrugged. “In that case, sure, you get the room; tell them indefinitely so we can leave quickly if Verðandi sends a summons.”
“Okay, got it.” She held out her gloved hand.
I looked at it for a second and then nodded. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.”
I slid my small wallet out and took out one of the two credit cards I carried. My wallet held a driver’s license (that expired in the early ‘70’s), the two credit cards, and a few hundred in cash. One of the credit cards doubled as an ATM card.
I handled Tess the Visa. “Keep this one on you until we get you one with your name on it.”
“Sure thing. Ah, how do you do that?”
“I just have to call the company and tell them to send me one in your name,” I said.
“But how do you get it? Do you have an address somewhere that you haven’t mentioned yet?”
“Oh, yeah, I have a post office box at a private mail service center in Denver. I swing through there a couple times a year to check my mail or I can call the manager and have anything interesting forwarded to wherever I’m staying,” I explained.
“Okay, just curious, I’ll meet you in the restaurant,” Tess. She pocketed the card and doffed her gloves as she walked toward the office door.
I watched her for a moment, grinning at her uncomfortable gait. Maybe I would give her that massage she’d asked for.
The restaurant was small, maybe a dozen or so tables, and according to the sign on the door, it was open from six to two every day but Sunday. I guessed that meant today wasn’t Sunday. I’d lost track of what day it was somewhere. Maybe Tess remembered.
A middle-aged woman with long brown hair that hung to her waist stood at the hostess station, doing something with receipts. She looked up when I entered and smiled. “Good morning, table for one?”
“Two actually, my partner is getting us a room.”
“It’s a little early to check in.” The lady’s name tag told me her name was Pam.
“You keep odd hours.”
I shrugged. “Guilty as charged, Pam. I take it the restaurant is affiliated with the motel?”
“Sure is. I’ve owned both since my parents retired. My husband cooks and I handle the books and hostess here.” She plucked a couple of menus from a cradle behind the cash register and waved them at me in a summoning manner.
“Where you from?” Pam asked as I followed her to a booth on the right hand wall. The windows there overlooked the parking lot, and I could see the entrance to the office.
“Here and there. Originally, Colorado Springs,” I said honestly while wondering at her question.
“You don’t say. My sister, Bernice, lives in the Springs. Been there since the Army transferred her to Fort Carson a couple of years ago. Visited her when we shut down for a week last winter. She took us skiing at Breckenridge. Boy, but that place has grown since we were last there.”
I thought about the changes to Breckenridge since I’d learned to ski there in the winter of ’67. “You don’t say.”
“Sure do say.” She motioned to the booth and set the menus on either side of the table. I unbuttoned my jacket and slipped it off, tossing it into the booth before sliding in after it.
“Can I get you some coffee and is your girlfriend coming right away?”
“Coffee will be nice, black, please and water. Tell me, why did you ask about a girlfriend? I said my partner was getting us a room.”
“I heard you ride up. I may wear contacts, but I can tell a woman when I see one. A real looker too, I was surprised to see you riding bitch.”
“Bitch?” I asked.
“Shotgun? Whatever you prefer,” Pam added. “Now my husband, Raymond, has his own bike, an Indian, just like mine, but mine’s prettier. I don’t think Raymond has ever ridden bitch behind me. I think it must be your youth. People our age are more traditional about such things.”
I was tempted to make a comment about having the person in front bouncing up and down on my nut sack, but decided that Pam might think that was a little crude of me.
“There comes your girlfriend. I’ll get those coffees,” Pam said and turned away.
“She’s not–” but Pam was already walking away.
I took off my gloves, storing them in my jacket, and picked up my menu. The selection was Mexican and American, like almost every small restaurant in the southwest.
Tess joined me a minute or two later. She slid a plastic key across the table at me. “Got us the last room on the end to the right. That okay?”
“Sure, we’ll do less damage to the structure if we get attacked.”
Tess frowned. “Say what now? You think that’s possible? I mean, if Beast took care of our stalker then we should be safe, right?”
“We’re probably safe, but we’ve been getting surprise visits damn near daily since I got you. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were a danger magnet.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” Tess said with a little bit of heat.
I grinned and shook my head. “I’m messing with you. No, I’m sure it’s Rowle cooking up something to keep us amused.”
“Oh, okay, what looks good?” She asked opening the thin sheet of paper that made up the menu.
“I’m getting a hamburger and home fries.”
“That sounds like a good start; let’s see what the dessert looks like,” Tess said.
I grinned. Her regrowing
