But Theo didn’t do any of that. Theo dragged him across the center console, wrapping him in a hug. Theo was shaking. Wild shakes, like he was coming apart. And then he kissed Auggie’s neck, right behind his ear, just once, and held him tighter.
8
They left the car hidden behind THE LADY’S LANDAU and walked a quarter mile to the WESTPHALIA MOTEL – COLOR TV – AC – NO PETS. Theo kept looking at the sign. He kept thinking about being back in the car, Auggie in his arms, the poor kid frozen solid. Auggie still looked like that: his face blank, his eyes dull. Theo caught his gaze and looked up at the sign again.
When Auggie followed his glance, Theo said, “Wonder if they’ll let me keep you.”
A tiny smile cracked Auggie’s frozen façade, and he said, “You’re the worst.”
Annie Rodriguez had owned the Westphalia Motel for thirty years; her husband had bought it when the bank foreclosed, after he’d spent almost eighteen years digging ditches and laying irrigation pipes. He’d restored the place himself, one room at a time, and then he and his wife had run it together until he’d died a few years ago.
Pausing with her pen above the registry, Annie said, “I told him, ‘Victor, you never eat watermelon with a glass of milk. You just don’t do it. It hits the stomach too hard. And Fourth of July, he had a glass of milk with his watermelon. He went inside, lay down, and he’d passed on before the fireworks started.” She touched a knuckle to the corner of her eye. “Bless his heart, he hated fireworks.”
“He died of watermelon and milk?” Auggie asked. A little color had come back into his face, but he still looked exhausted and scrubbed out.
“Stroke,” Annie said, finishing the registry page with a flourish. “But I warned him.”
“But—” Auggie said.
Theo squeezed his arm and gave a tiny shake of his head.
Annie took Theo’s money—he had to count out the last dollar with change—and gave them a key attached to a large plastic tag that had the number 3 on it. She asked them if they wanted a wake-up call. She promised coffee and tea were already in the room. Theo took advantage of every break in the flow of words to nudge Auggie toward the door. When Annie took a breath, Theo shoved Auggie outside and called thanks over his shoulder.
Room 3 looked like every other low-budget motel room Theo had been in, although it was cleaner and smelled better than most. It had particleboard furniture that consisted of two full beds, a table with two chairs, and a combination dresser/TV stand. The bedding was rough enough to put scratch into a cat, and the towels were so thin that Theo could practically see through them, but the bathroom had fresh bars of soap and hot water. After a few minutes of messing around with the window unit, warm air chugged into the room.
“Might want to sleep with your clothes on,” Theo said, holding a hand in the current of air. “I don’t know if it’s going to get much warmer in here. This thing just doesn’t put out enough heat.”
“In porn, there’s only one bed,” Auggie said.
“Ok, I guess that’s one way to have this discussion. You will be sleeping in that bed,” Theo said, pointing to the bed farthest from the window. “I will be sleeping in this bed. Never the twain shall meet.”
“You are so weird sometimes.”
“You’re the one bemoaning a non-porn-conforming motel room.”
“I wasn’t bemoaning,” Auggie said, but a little more color had come back into his face. “I was observing.”
“Well, if you do any observing in the shower, please keep it quiet. I already have enough nightmares, thanks.”
“God, I hate you.” Auggie heeled off his sneakers. “My feet are still soaked, and they are fucking freezing.”
“Take a shower,” Theo said. “Quietly.”
“Fer made a dumb joke about gay porn when I moved into Moriah Court. Something about my hot roommate. And now, with Orlando, it’s, like, weirdly real.”
“Is that who you—” Theo stopped himself. “Sorry, none of my business.”
“Shit,” Auggie said, digging out his phone. He placed a call, undid his jeans, and kicked his way loose from them as he hopped toward the bathroom. “Orlando, I am so sorry. Listen, you’re not going to believe what happened.”
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Water ran. A moment later, Auggie’s voice rose, and the words became clear enough for Theo to hear.
“I’m not lying to you, and it’s not fucking weird that he’s my friend, so you’d better let that fucking go, ok?”
Theo thought he was mostly a good person, so he felt like a real shitheel for taking an extra few minutes to try to eavesdrop before he turned on the TV. Then he kicked off his shoes, grabbed Auggie’s sneakers, which were some sort of outrageously expensive-looking white high-tops, and put them upside down over the climate-control vents. Grabbing the pocket edition from his jacket, he stretched out on the bed and tried to read King Lear and not think about Auggie twelve feet away, naked and wet. He changed the channel to C-SPAN; maybe that would help.
Auggie came out of the shower in nothing but a towel, and God help him, Theo looked. He was lithe, enough muscle to give him tone and shape but not bulk. Dark hair under his arms. Dark hair leading from his navel to the thin white towel. Fine, straight dark
