Barbara Boswell Family Feud

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a high point of the drive along the Overseas Highway.
Then she imagined crossing the Seven Mile Bridge tonight with the wind and the rain and the black,
churning waters serving as a frightening backdrop. Navigating the smaller bridges in this storm had been
dire enough; the prospect of a seven-mile trek across the open seas was horrifying.
"Are you going to pull over and wait till the rain lets up?" she murmured.
"Who knows when that'll be? An hour from now? Or in the middle of the night? We're still hours from
Port Key, Shelby. We'll have to stop for the night at the first place we come to."
Shelby protested immediately. It was understandable, even wise, to pull off the road and wait for the
worst of the storm to pass. But she was not going to spend the night with him in a motel. She'd already
refused to do so when the ingratiating Tony Fontana had offered them a free room at the Family Fun Inn.
Her refusal still stood.
She was still arguing her case when Garrett pulled off the road, over to a dilapidated, single-story
building of motel units sporting a hand-painted sign that read Seagull Motel. He stopped the car in front
of the door that had Office printed on it in big block letters.
Shelby panicked. "I'm not setting foot in this place! Why, I've seen better-looking roach motels. And
Norman Bates is probably the proprietor here."
"You've seenPsycho ?" Garrett sounded extraordinarily pleased. "I'm a rabid Hitchcock fan, I've seen
every one of his films at least five times and "
"Just because I've seenPsycho doesn't mean I care to live it. I "
A bottle suddenly hit the windshield, hurled by the force of the wind. The bottle shattered, spewing glass,
but fortunately the windshield was strong enough to withstand the assault and didn't even crack.
Garrett frowned grimly. "We're getting out of this car right now, Shelby. A concrete block or brick might
come crashing through one of the windows and clobber us. Get your packages and come on."
"No!"
"I'll carry you inside if I have to," he warned. His blue eyes were flinty with determination. "If that's what
you want, then just sit here and keep saying no."
"You can't bully me! I "
He opened the door and a blast of wind and rain filled the car. "I'm going to get us a room. I'll be back
for you."
A room, he'd said. Not two rooms. Shelby was instantly galvanized into action. "I demand my own
room!" she called after him. "If we have to stay here, we're renting two rooms." She tumbled out of the
car, slamming the door behind her. The wind was so strong, it almost knocked her off her feet.
Garrett returned to grab her and, holding tightly to her, they battled the wind to trudge the few feet into
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the dimly lit office of the Seagull Motel.
Stepping inside, they learned the reason why the office was so dimly lit. The power was out and the only
illumination came from several candles that were burning on top of the desk. A pudgy, red-haired clerk
sat behind it, eating from an open bag of pork rinds and listening to the radio.
"Hello there, folks!" he greeted them jovially. "Got caught in the storm, huh? It's a bad one. Close to
hurricane-force winds, the weather report says. Caught everybody by surprise."
"See? Not Norman Bates," Garrett whispered reassuringly to Shelby, out of earshot of the clerk.
Shelby glanced around the office whose seedy aura was apparent despite the lack of lights. The place
was downright creepy. It wouldn't have surprised her to spot a mummified corpse reposing in a corner,
most likely surrounded by a collection of dead baby alligators dressed in doll-size clothes.
"We'd like two rooms for the night please," Garrett said.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We only have one room left," the clerk replied.
"What?" Shelby whirled around to face Garrett. She heard the hammer of her heartbeat echo in her ears.
Suddenly her pulses were racing out of control.
Garrett watched her closely, taking in the rush of color to her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her
breasts beneath the pink cotton of her shirt. He could feel the tension emanating from her, see it in the
faint trembling of her body. MissHalford was quite disturbed over the prospect of sharing a room with
him. He found her overreaction amusing. Did she expect he would jump her the moment they were alone
in a bedroom together? Or was she afraid that she might be tempted to jump him? Now there was an
appealing notion!
"I said we only have one room available," the clerk replied.
"That means we have to share, Shelby," Garrett drawled.
"Place started filling up when the storm got bad. Travelers like yourself pulling over," the clerk explained,
sounding thrilled. "We haven't had full occupancy since 1974. Kind of a historic night for us here at the
Seagull."
"Well, we can't stay," Shelby said frantically. Her heart was pounding in a painful panic and her eyes
compulsively slid over Garrett's long, lean length, from his powerful shoulders to his flat belly. She quickly
jerked her gaze away. "We need two rooms. We'll drive on until we find "
"We're staying." Garrett's tone brooked no argument. "We're not going to risk being out in the storm in a
car that's as big as a dessert cart. We'll take the room," he added decisively.
"The power's out and we don't know when it'll be restored," the clerk warned. "But we're still charging
the regular rate. Payable in advance."
* * *
"Forty-five dollars for this dump!" an indignant Garrett exclaimed a short while later. He was pacing the
last room available at the Seagull Motel. "What an outrage!"
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He gestured toward the double bed, its lumpy mattress and threadbare spread apparent even in the
flickering light provided by one of the two candles the clerk had given them. "Why, there's not even a TV
set."
"Not that it matters," Shelby said glumly. "There's no electricity tonight. No lights, no air-conditioning, no
air!" She cracked the door to let some fresh air inside. A blast of wind and rain swept in. Shelby
surrendered to the inevitable and closed the door again. She turned her attention back to Garrett, who
continued to pace like a restless tiger trapped in a too-small cage.
In addition to the bed, there was an old armchair and a nicked and scratched three-drawer bureau
squeezed into the room, leaving only a narrow strip between the door and the wall for pacing. There was
also a bathroom the size of a phone booth.
"We could always leave," she suggested hopefully. "We don't have to stay here. There have to be other
places farther along the "
"We don't have a choice. You heard what the guy said hurricane-force winds. We're not going to
drive through them. We're here and we're going to make the best of it." Garrett smiled grimly. "Actually,
this is a good lesson for me. I can experience firsthand how and why Family Fun Inns have been so
successful. With places like the Seagull Motel as our competition for low-budget rooms, no wonder
business is booming. But we must never lose our edge and grow complacent."
"I appreciate your consumer-and-marketing lesson, but this place is truly awful, Garrett! How are we
ever going to get through the whole night here? It's not quite ten o'clock yet. And I don't want to even
touch that bedspread, let alone sit on it."
Garrett whipped the ancient spread off the bed. "The sheets are clean, they're actually starched," he
noted, sliding his hands over the top sheet. "You can safely sit down, Shelby." He caught her hand.
"Relax, honey. It's "
"If you're about to make a pass, you can save yourself the effort," she said trenchantly. "You don't have
a prayer of seducing me in a rattletrap like this, so don't even try."
Garrett grinned. "Setting is important to you, hmm? Candlelight, wine, soft music." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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