Desperate Measures

TWO
1

“Car trouble.”

“Man, look at you shiver,” the motel clerk said.

“Got soaked finding a pay phone to call a tow truck. The garage says my car won’t be ready till the afternoon. I need a place to get dry.”

“I guess you’re not from around here.” The clerk was paunchy, in his forties. He had thick red beard stubble and strained features from working all night.

Pittman shook his head. “I’m on the road a lot, selling college textbooks. Left New Haven last night for a meeting in New York.”

“Looks like you’re not going to make it.”

“I didn’t have to be at the meeting till Monday. Figured I’d spend the weekend having a good time. Shit.”

Pittman gave the clerk his credit card and filled out the registration form, making sure to claim a New Haven address. He felt strange lying, but he knew he had to. The clerk needed a reasonable explanation for Pittman’s drenched appearance, and the truth certainly wasn’t acceptable.

“Here’s your card back. Here’s your key.”

Pittman sneezed.

“Man, you need to get out of those wet clothes.”

“That’s all I’ve been thinking of.”