The Shotgun Willies
By
Ryan Mitchel Collins
I
The dull, cold, silence of the night crept onward. It was turning out to be another impotent nightshift at the Golden Nugget hotel. It’s Thursday, February 23rd in Union Colony. That means they’re boiling blood at the slaughterhouse. They do it on Thursdays, and Sundays to make beef bullion, but it makes the town smell like shit for a few days. The smell inescapably seeps in through the very walls, choking out all hope of a normal breathing experience. Something like death floating around in the air.
You get use to it after a while, but it’s always humorous, if not degrading to see the reactions you get from people coming in from out of town. They find the smell unbearable.
Union Colony, the home of Union Colony University. Otherwise know as the University of no choice; but they have good parties from what I’ve experienced so far, and a seven to one girl to guy ratio. So I tell myself I’ve made the right decision attending this shitegious university, sitting outside, diluting the smell with cigarette smoke—thinking about the guests that live in the hotel.
Like Daniel—he’s living in the hotel with his mother because he attempted suicide when his grandmother passed away. He says that his mom feels, “She can keep a better watch in a controlled environment.” So he’s staying at the hotel for two months while things, “Settle down.” He’s rarely allowed out of the room from what he tells me. Every once and a while, he comes up to me and slips in twenty spot to get him a pack of squares, tells me to keep the change every time.
Then there’s Theodore, the misbegotten victim of frostbite so bad, his skin is peeling off in rough sandy layers, like a diamond back shedding its skin. He called me at the front desk one time, asked me if I could get him a bottle of whiskey to numb the pain. I went across the street to the supercenter, leaving the front desk unmanned, and got the bottle. When I brought it to him he offered me a slug, and of course I didn’t refuse, even though I was on the clock. I sat drinking with him for a little while.
The mere look of the man made me take a drink. It seemed like he was really, just lonely and hurt by the look in his eyes. He told me the insurance company was paying for the hotel. They felt sorry for him, he didn’t have anywhere to stay after getting out of the hospital. I didn’t believe that, but I couldn’t help but stare at his frostbite wounds, and imagine what the pain felt like. When he noticed me staring at his once ruddy hands, he told me the story of how it happened in between slugs from the bottle.
“I was driving home from out of town, visiting my girlfriend. We weren’t getting along very well. Oh never mind that, it really doesn’t matter to the story. What really happened is it was about three in the AM, just about twenty miles outside of town, and then all of a sudden, out pops these three deer, and wham! I woke up for a second there, I think, but I couldn’t hold it together. They found me in the morning, the windows all broken out and my head all mashed in, dead fucking deer all around. Got knocked out cold as a rock, and sat there all night in the freezing cold with those dead deer. It would’ve been better if I could of gutted one of em’ and crawled inside, but I couldn’t. I don’t remember it hurting when it happened, but I sure felt it when I came to. How much do I owe you for the bottle?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it, Teddy. He smiled and put his hands out and shook them like he was Lou Bega doing the Mambo number five.
There’s a few others staying here besides the residents and those on business and such, but the hotel was almost empty. I was about to finish my cigarette when a taxi, the only taxi service in town, pulled up. It wasn’t normal to see a taxi pull up to the hotel, let alone at three in the morning. I dashed in before the taxi pulled up and the door could open–speeding across the red flowered carpet, to my little clerk station–festooning myself along the top of the counter. I straightened the daisy pens sitting in the rock pot, with little pebbles in it. I prepared myself for the first human interaction of the night, other than the two guys that come in together all the time, acting like they want separate beds in the same room.
Whoever was getting out took forever. He stood talking to the taxicab driver, handing him cash, haggling or something. He violently threw his hands up, and the taxicab driver sped off. A gust of wind blasted in as he opened the front door, wearing a standard blue polo and expensive looking jeans, with matching leather shoes. The aviators, which struck me as odd, didn’t seem all that odd in comparison to his sauntering smile. He took off his aviators to greet me with lucid sanguine eyes and a, “Hullo.” He looked like he was in his early thirties by way of the evening shadow creeping in on his face. He was dark skinned, but it was hard to say what ethnicity he was. If I had to guess I’d say Persian. About five ten from the looks of it.
“My BMW just broke down outside of town, and the cab driver told me you guys are the best priced in town. Not that I care about price or anything, I just like to spend my money on other things than one night stands in hotels. You know what I mean?” He looked at me awkwardly, angularly.
“Yeah,” I say, not really having any fucking clue what this guy was talking about.
“Hey, say if I gave you this,” he handed me a hundred dollar bill, “do you think I could get some special service?”
“Well that depends on what kind of service you mean by special,” I said avoiding eye contact, “we get a lot of weirdo’s that come in here.”
“Nothing too special, just some extra pillows and blankets, and some towels. What else? Uh, how about some extra light bulbs?” He beseeched a smile from me, and I let in, letting on a smirk.
“I think that could be arranged, Sir. All in due time, however. So I take it you want a room then?” It didn’t seem like he was listening to a word I was saying because he was too busy looking at my nametag.
“Doug. Is that your name?”
“Yessir.”
“My names Brian, Doug. Good to meet you,” He shoved a hand in my face, which I shook halfheartedly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question, Doug?”
“Not at all.”
“What the hell is there to do in this rank ass smelling town anyway? Do any women actually live here?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I said snapping back.
“If you say so, well anyway, Doug, give me the master suite would you? And don’t tell me it’s over three hundred for one of these cum stained suites.”
“Let me see here. That’ll be two sixty nine—seventy five.”
“Oh, that’s not that bad. Here’s four chundy,” he said as he handed me four fresh hundreds. “Oh, and Doug, keep the change. I’ll be needing some more things before the nights over, I’m sure.”
I handed him his key and told him how to get to his room. When he’d secured all the pillows with the towels stacked on top of the blankets, and the light bulbs in his pockets, he said thanks and headed out of the lobby, up the stairs to the second floor. I could have sworn he winked at me as he started to walk away, but I wasn’t positive.
II
About an hour went by before Brian came back down to the front desk. I was busy thinking about the exotic things I was going to do with the extra cash in my pocket. He came into the lobby, and walked to the front door, peering through the window.
Suddenly, he turned and asked, “I saw you smoking when I pulled up. You don’t happen to have an extra by chance?” Not wanting to offend his earlier generosity, I quickly produced a smoke for him. I decided there was nothing better to do right now than smoke with a stranger and hear his weird stories. Something about this hotel makes people want to tell me their craziest stories, but I’ve come to enjoy it. Maybe it’s just me that attracts these weird stories.
“So really, Doug, what is there to do in this town? You look like a fun guy, don’t you know of something going on?”
“Well, all I really know of is college parties, and I’m sure you’re not that interested.”
“Hell yeah I’m interested!” He shook, as if to silently say I offended his pride.
“Uh……..”
“Oh don’t worry about it Doug. Is there a strip club anywhere, or something like that?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Right. Well, do you know of a place close by where I could get some cigarettes? I go through two packs of the fucking things a day. Love my menthols.” The closest place was a supercenter across the street. I pointed. “Shit that’s a far walk in this freezing ass cold.” For the first time I consciously noticed Brian’s lack of a jacket.
I pondered that for a second, “you know what. See my car over there? I’ll let you drive it to the supercenter because I can see you. Plus you paid for a suite, so I know you’re not going to take off.”
“Really man? That would be awesome. Here, here, take my credit card for collateral, but don’t be using it to call any dirty hotlines or anything while I get these cigarettes.” He said, as I surprised myself by my own generosity, handing over the keys and explaining all the little tricks about my car to get it moving. I stood outside, watching him slowly pull out of the parking lot.
He rolled down the window waving and said, “Bye By, Dougy.” He pulled out of the lot it suddenly struck me it was a very bad idea to let him borrow my car. For all I knew he could peel around the corner—heading straight for Mexico, and to my relief he didn’t. I saw him go into the supercenter parking lot and stop.
There’s no way I wasn’t going to stand outside and watch my cars every move. The hotels yellow billboard, across the lot and the frozen pond, flickered. It was buzzing with the flow of constant electricity surging in and out of it.
The billboard read, “Great rates and superior service.” I chuckled at what a load of crap that was.
Usually by this time in the night I’m sleeping in the pull out bed in the back room, but tonight I’d decided to stick it out, nice and proper. I think management was starting to catch on to my to my naps on shift. There’s nothing like getting paid for sleeping.
He came back bearing two packs of cigarettes, two out of the pack ready to go. For some reason he was very interested in what I was planning on doing that night, like he didn’t understand I was working the night shift. It seemed like he kept thinking that I was going to a party or something. I got the feeling he would pay me to take him to one. At one point the conversation went something like—
“I can’t really tell you where to go, Brian, but I’m pretty sure if you go around campus you might find a college party. How old are you anyway? Aren’t you a little old for house parties? There are plenty of bars in town you know?”
“It’s not the same. I want a house party. Do you get lots around here, like what do you do?”
“What do you mean? I smoke and drink, and go to parties.”
“Do you fuck lots of girls?”
“Uh, I get my fair share.”
“Have you ever been filmed before? You’re an attractive guy, I could make that happen for you.”
“I’m good, thank you.”
“You said you smoke right?”
“I’m smoking right now, Brian.”
“No! Do you smoke weed.”
“Yeah, sometimes,” I said concealing the truth.
“I’ve got some Thai sticks in the room from California. You should come up in twenty minutes and smoke some with me. It’s really good.” Abeyance was the only word I could think of when he said Thai sticks. I’d never heard anybody say they had Thai sticks before.
“I might have to come up.”
“Do it and don’t fuck around. This stuff is really good.”
I said I would just to get him off my back. It didn’t seem like he was going to take no for an answer, and he started to wave his hands around like he did to the taxicab driver. He calmed down after I assured him I would come upstairs to see his Thai sticks. He went upstairs to, “prepare,” and I hung around the lobby contemplating if I should go up there and smoke marijuana with a guest, or if I should be good and stay. I’d decided that it probably wasn’t a good idea to go up there. Just like it wasn’t a good idea to let him borrow my car. So I went about my business and started to get the continental breakfast ready, just like I’m suppose to around four thirty in the morning. This usually is the time I get up when I’m sleeping in the back room.
I get the freezer burned bagels out of the fridge in the back room, along with the rock hard cream cheese, and set them up at the breakfast station in the lobby. I was busy putting the cream cheese cups in a bowl of ice water, when the front desk phone rang.
“Thanks for calling the Golden Nugget hotel, this is Doug, how may I help you?”
“By coming up to the suite and smoking some of my Thai sticks!”
“Brian?”
“Yeah, you dumb shit, who else has Thai sticks?”
“Uh, I don’t know, Brian.”
“Don’t be a pussy, Doug.”
“Ok.”
“There we go.”
I hang up the phone and head up the stairs. I was going to make this as quick as possible.
Knocking on the door, Brian granted me access to the elegant master suite. Everything inside was covered in a polyester gold and silver. The interior decoration of the master suite had to of taken place before I was born, but still, there was a faded, shimmery gold hue.
“Sit down, Doug. Here check this out.”
“Very nice, Brian. Let’s try it out, and then I have to get downstairs, so we have to be quick.”
“Tranquilo, Doug. Be easy.”
“Oh, I guess you’re right. There’s nobody down there, this town is dead except for all the college kids. Hey, Brian. Why do they call them Thai sticks?”
“I don’t really know, but I’ve been to Thailand before.” My eyes light up like what I imagine the lighthouse at Alexandria looked light at the thought of Thailand, I’d always wanted to go there.
“How is it,” I asked.
“Oh, a guy like you would love it, I’m sure of it. They had this place there; well I guess you’d call it a whorehouse here, where they would lower these girls down in a basket, and there was a whole in the bottom of the basket. You get the picture, and they would spin the basket around.”
“You actually did this?”
“No, I just watched.”
“Wow. I bet you enjoyed yourself.”
“That’s all I do, Doug. My dad owns a really nice strip club in the city. There’s two of em’ now actually. So I get to run around and spend all of his money, go to Thailand, see basket fucks, you know?”
“That sounds exciting, Brian.” Right then I couldn’t help notice a sound coming from downstairs. It sounded like alarms going off.
“Hey do you hear that? I think I need to go downstairs and check it out. It sounds like there are alarms going off down there, or something. Maybe somebody is trying to steel the cash register.” I got up and motioned towards the door.
“Doug, I have some girls coming up from the city in about an hour. You should come up when they get here.”
“Yeah maybe, Brian.”
I was glad to get out of room; the alarm provided the perfect escape. When I got to the clerk stand, I found out the noise was the fire alarm for the Suite. I shut it off and proceeded putting together the continental breakfast. I was laying out the miss Daisy muffins when the front desk phone rang.
“Thanks for calling the Golden Nugget hotel, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Doug.”
“Who’s this?”
“Its, Brian you dumb ass. Hey, uh those girls came in somehow. I’m going to go fuck this one in the shower, and this one wants to talk to you. Here, his name is, Doug.”
“Hiiiii, Doug. Why don’t you just come on upstairs baby? I want you so bad, I just shaved for you baby. Just come on upstairs and slip into bed with me.”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“It doesn’t count baby. What she doesn’t know doesn’t count.”
“It counts to me.”
“Don’t worry about it and come upstairs baby, the door will be open and the lights will be off. Just get naked and slip into bed.”
“No thanks,” I said as I hung up the phone. I’ve had many a weird moments at this hotel, but that one was one of the weirdest. It’s not easy to stay the straight and narrows in these situations like I try to do. I went back to the buffet and put the milk into a pitcher on ice. The phone rang again.
“Thanks for calling the Golden Nugget.”
“How much baby?”
“How much what?”
“How much do I have to pay you to come up? I’m a virgin baby and I just shaved for you. I’ll be so tight for you, how much do I have to pay you?”
“It’s not about money, I just have a girlfriend. Sorry.”
“Don’t even worry about your girlfriend. I’ll make you forget her name.”
“I’m really ok, you guys have fun up there.”
“Baby, I’ll do anything you want, don’t you want me? Are you gay?
“I’m not gay, I just don’t want to cheat on my girlfriend, sorry.”
“If you want we can just hang out. Come upstairs and we can do whatever you want.”
“Ok,” I said hanging up the phone. I thought about it for about five minutes; I called my girlfriend to have her see me through the situation, but it was almost five in the morning and she didn’t answer. Walking up the stairs, and then turning around after contemplation. Then up the stairs, only to come back down again. Would it be ok if I just went up there and talked? No, it wouldn’t be ok, and it would end up being more than just talking. I went up the stairs again, and at the top of them I convinced myself to go up there and see what was going on full heartedly.
The phone rang. I ran down the stairs and answered the phone. “I’ll be up there in a second.”
“What?”
“Oh, thanks for calling the Golden Nugget hotel.”
“How big are your beds?” It was some old lady from the sound of it, calling at four forty five in the morning.
“Pretty big.”
“Ok. Thank you.” She said, hanging up and leaving me to contemplate whether or not this was a sign from god not to go up there. I thought about it for a second and decided the best option was to call in back up. The only person that came to mind was my co-worker Chuck. Chuck was a frat boy that had just got hired on. He always loved to hear my stories. He always asked me why none of this stuff happens to him. I keep telling him it will, and tonight was his chance. I called him up and he answered wide-awake on the second ring, I explained the situation, asked him if he wanted to go in instead of me. He said he would be there in ten minutes.
III
In five minutes Chuck pulled up to the hotel, and believe it or not, there was a customer in the lobby. It was some businessman taking in the glory that is the continental breakfast before his daily grind. Chuck walked up to the counter and made a gun with his fingers. He was wearing his typical frat attire, red striped polo, with a buzz cut that made him look like goose in Top Gun.
210, that’s all I told him not wanting to disturb the businessman’s breakfast. Chuck, from what he later told me, went upstairs and knocked on the door. Brian answered the door by peeping out the door about and inch calling out, “who goes there?” When Brian found out it was Chuck, and he hadn’t invited anybody named Chuck, he stepped out into the hallway in his underwear, propping the door behind him. Chuck told him that he knew what was going on, that I couldn’t come up because of some customers in the lobby. Chuck said he basically told Brian, “my name is Chuck and I’m down to fuck.” Brian responded with a quick, ok and brought Chuck into the room. Chuck said he heard the shower running, and that Brian said the girls were in the shower. Brian and Chuck sat there talking about among other things, if Chuck enjoyed virgins, if he had ever been filmed, and if he liked men.
When Brian’s demeanor fanned out Chuck, he came downstairs into the lobby, telling me everything I just told you. Said he told Brian that he was going out to his car to get a bottle of champagne, but he didn’t really have a bottle of champagne. He was just saying that to get out of there. I told him that I have to know what this is all about and to go back up there and say he couldn’t find it. Which he did, but this time when he went in the suite, Brian was lying in bed rubbing his nipples.
Chuck told Brian that he was going to go see what the girls were doing. At this Brian jumped out of bed and said, “No, I’ll do it.” Chuck sat down and watched Brian open the bathroom door. The shower was running, but the lights were off. Brian started saying, as he closed the door behind him “what are you girls doing with the lights off? Hey are you ok.” Then Chuck said the shower turned off and Brian emerged from the threshold of the bathroom, only to say, “I must of dozed off, because the girls are gone.” I didn’t see anybody leave from the front door, or the camera on the back door.
Chuck came downstairs and we both shook our heads, stupefied. Chuck couldn’t offer up an explanation and we talked about it for about a half an hour and then he got in his jeep and drove off into the sunset rising in the east. He said he had the shotgun willies.
The windows in the front lobby catch the morning sun just perfect, and at the end of every shift when all my work is done, I make myself a cup of coffee and watch the sun come in. It makes me feel like anything can happen. Like maybe there’s a reason to all this madness in the world. Right around six thirty the lobby phone rang again. It was Brian asking if I could call up a taxi for him. His voice was as straight as an arrow, and had no hint of shame or remorse. I called up the only taxi service in town and arranged his pickup, and when my shift manager came in and relinquished me of my duties, I walked out the front door into the morning light. Right when I got to my car the taxi pulled up.
Out ran Brian full speed, getting in the taxi to go wherever; I could only imagine. He almost jumped into the taxi, and as it was pulling away, he stuck his head and hands out the window, waving and yelling, “bye, Dougy.”
I went home and slept on it. When I woke up I was convinced that it’s a danger to my health to work here at the Golden Nugget Hotel, so I wrote this story in the night log at work tonight, February 24th as a kind of resignation letter. Upon writing it I have discovered that I want to try and make this story into a movie, and it might be my ticket out of this town. Good luck to whoever my replacement is, and I hope you make the right choice. It’ll probably be Chuck, so enjoy some of the stories I’ve left you here in the night log. And if Brian comes looking for his credit card, tell his father thanks.
Dougy
