Fuel or; What They Don’t Know

Raymond sat in his car smoking a cigarette. A crucifix hung from the mirror. He watched for the man’s car to pull in. He called earlier, told Raymond the room number, told him to be ready. He sounded out of breath. Raymond knew this sound.

           

The man pulled in, whipping his van into a parking spot. He got out carrying a bag and a briefcase. He was wearing sunglasses and a suit that fit him tightly. He looked over the parking lot. Raymond noticed him and sat up. His stomach stirred. The man saw Raymond’s car and went into the office with relief in his stride.

He came out and walked quickly to his room, which on his request, was in the back. Raymond was to wait ten minutes and then go to the room.

Ten minutes.

Raymond lit another cigarette. He watched as a family loaded up their car with their luggage. The husband’s face was knotted up. Raymond noticed the front tire needed air.

Raymond knocked lightly and the man opened the door. A pall of cologne moved out of the room. Raymond stepped in. On the small table was a bottle of Crown Royal. It was half empty. The man’s face was dry-red.

“Great to see you,” he told Raymond and ran his slumped eyes over him. Raymond smelled booze on his breath. “Want a drink?”

The man sat on the bed.

“Come here,” he said and tapped on the bed with his hand. Raymond noticed the man’s wedding band—a tacky gold thing stamped with diamonds. Raymond got a flash of Jesse’s face—the beautiful angular Indian face, not aware of Raymond’s secret ways. Raymond walked to the bed unbuttoning his shirt.

“I need the money first,” Raymond said. “I have bills. My fridge is empty. My car needs gas.”

The old man took out his wallet and handed Raymond two hard one-hundred dollar bills. Then he handed him another hundred.

“This is a tip,” the man said. “‘Tip’ is an acronym. It stands for ‘To Insure Prompt Service.’ Did you know that?”

The man twisted down his wedding band so the diamonds were facing the floor.

Raymond didn’t say anything. He took the money and slipped it into his pocket. He walked to the table, twisted off the cap and took a long hit. The booze heated his young chest. He inhaled deeply, blowing the whiskey out of his nostrils. The room went soft and broke his conscious. Jesse was gone. He hit the lights and moved towards the bed.