I need to at least see her one last time and tell her that I love her and that she’s everything.

And that I’m dead without her.

Jordan

I click the mouse, moving the red six-of-hearts and everything underneath it to the black seven-of-clubs. Then I turn over the new card, clicking it twice, and watching the Ace automatically slide up to a free cell.

After nine weeks I’ve gotten pretty good at this game. Danni keeps suggesting I learn poker or blackjack or maybe even get into some online gaming with people from around the world, but I’m not that cool. I like playing alone. Just something to keep my brain occupied. It’s been an eventful summer vacation, too. I’ve won about three-hundred-fifty games out of four hundred, and I only lost that many, because I kept playing too late and would fall asleep, letting my battery die.

I actually feel quite pathetic when I let myself think about how I’ve spent hours and hours over this gorgeous summer. But then I just start a new game, and I stop thinking about it.

The bell on the lobby door chimes, and I look up, seeing a young man in a black pullover and jeans walk in, heading for the front desk.

I slide off my stool and stand. I’m always nervous when we get customers this late. The motel sits on an old highway without a lot of businesses or lights. Most people stick to the Interstate, especially when it’s dark out like this, and those who don’t kind of make me wonder.

But hey, it’s business.

“Hi.” I smile. “Welcome to The Blue Palms.”

He steps up to the counter, and my smile falters, seeing the huge wing tattooed on his neck with the words The Devil Doesn’t Sleep etched in black ink. This is a pretty conservative area. He can’t be local.

“Hi.” He meets my eyes but only for a second. “How many vacant rooms do you have?”

“Um…” I look in the cubbies and count the keys to make sure. “Six,” I tell him.

He nods, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, I assume. “I’ll take five. For one night, please.”

Five? I don’t think we’ve been this close to No Vacancies since I got here. What does he need all those rooms for?

Not that I’m complaining, though. We need the business.

The Blue Palms, owned by my friend Danni and her family, sits on a nearly deserted road, the new interstate put in twenty years ago making business very hard to come by these days. The only people who seem to know we’re here are the townies, the relatives of townies traveling in to visit, and bikers looking for a more authentic experience by riding the old highways.

I’m glad I came to help out, though. Danni’s been begging me for years to visit, and it’s been a throwback to spend another summer with her. She and I won scholarships to a sleepaway camp when we were twelve and have been keeping in touch long distance ever since. I’ve always wanted to match the place where so many of her quirky and sexy stories come from with my mental picture.

The customer hands me his I.D., and I take it.

“Thanks,” I say, propping it up on the keyboard to register the rooms to him.

The door suddenly swings open again, the bell ringing, and I hear a demanding voice bark, “We need food!”

I look up, seeing three women standing at the door and notice a few more outside. I don’t see any other men. My eyes fall down their attire, and next to them, my sister’s clothes at The Hook seem prudish. Hair, make-up, heels…

I shoot my eyes to the guy and see him blink long and hard, looking aggravated. He picks through the paper menus stuffed in the board on the wall and takes out a few from different places.

“Do these restaurants deliver?” he asks, setting them down and pulling a wad of bills out of his wallet.

“Yeah, all of them.”

He holds up the menus with the cash, and one of the girls jogs up and snatches everything out of his hands.

“I want receipts and change,” he orders, not looking at her.

She makes a face at him behind his back and then she disappears outside with the others.

I feel compelled to warn him. This place has an unofficial code of conduct, and Danni’s pretty strict about shenanigans. They’ve scraped by here for a long time, but the town is looking at developing this property. She doesn’t want to give them an excuse to want this place gone.

“This is a pretty quiet, family-oriented place,” I tell him, slowly typing in his name and address. “Parties aren’t allowed, so just an FYI…”

He looks at me, his dark sandalwood eyes almost amused. “They’re my sisters,” he says.

I bite back my smile and focus on my work again. Sure. If those are his sisters, then I’m his mom.

But he certainly seemed pretty annoyed by them like a brother would be, I guess.

I place the keys on the counter—with the old-fashioned, rounded diamonds for key chains—and print off the contract to sign.

“The pool closes at ten,” I tell him. “The ice and vending machines are between the two buildings, and there’s a laundromat across the way there.” I glance at him and point behind him, outside. “Front desk is open twenty-four hours. Let us know if you need anything. And that’ll be two-hundred-eight-dollars-and-forty-two cents, please.”

But as I place a pen on top of the contract and wait for his response, I see that he’s not even listening to me. He’s staring at the neon sign on the wall to his right and the quote written in script…

Well, they’re nothing like Billy and me…

His stern expression breaks into a small smile all of a sudden as he stares at the sign, a mixed look of wonder and confusion on his face as if a memory is playing in his head. I glance at the sign again, Danni’s obsession with 90’s music the bane of my existence all summer. It’s a quote from a Sheryl Crow song, and I never asked her if it meant anything, because then she’d play the song, and I’d suffer.

“Sir?” I say.

He blinks, turning to me, still seeming disoriented for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

He shakes it off and opens his wallet again. “How much is it?”

“Two-oh-eight-forty-two,” I tell him.

He hands me three-hundred-dollar bills, and there’s a sign that says we don’t take bills larger than fifty, but seeing the unnerving pile of cash in his wallet, I don’t feel like ruffling his feathers. I take the money and get his change.

He taps on the counter as he waits, and I realize he’s matching the rhythm of The Distance by Cake that Danni has playing on the speakers in the lobby.

“Oh, don’t do that,” I joke, handing him his change. “You’ll encourage the owner. I’m trying to convince her the playlist is driving away customers.”

He takes the money and shoots me a look. “Nineties music is the best. It’s when people told the truth.”

I curl the corner of my mouth, not arguing further. He clearly drank the same Kool-Aid as she did.

“Thanks,” he says, swiping up the keys.

I hand him back his I.D. and watch him leave. Outside, he doles out the room keys to all the ladies, and after a moment, they all make their way to their rooms. I’m half-tempted to go to the window and see if he goes in with one of them. Or five of them. Very curious.

“Was that a customer?” Danni says behind me, and I glance back, seeing her walk into the office. Her apartment, where she resides with her grandmother, sits behind the office, so it’s easy to run and check on her when she needs.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “He got five rooms for the night, and he’s traveling with at least half a dozen women, so have fun on the night shift.”

She snorts and walks up, picking up the contract. “Tyler Durden?” she reads his name, squinting through her glasses.

I nod, pulling a stray brown hair off her flannel shirt. She even dresses 90s.

“Didn’t you get I.D.?” She makes a face at me. “It’s a fake name.”

“His I.D. said Tyler Durden,” I shoot back. “Why do you think it’s a fake name?”

“Tyler Durden is a lead character in Fight Club,” she spits out like I’m an idiot. “The best movie of the 90s, and one of the best books ever. It’s disturbing that you don’t know that, Jordan.”

I laugh, shaking my head. She might only be a year older than me, but we’re worlds apart in interests.

Fight Club.

My smile falls, and I drop my eyes, turning back to the computer. I’ve seen the movie, but the name didn’t register. And I’ve seen it recently, too, with Pike…

I swallow, my chest growing tight. Dammit. I’ve done really well the last few weeks, turning my attention elsewhere, so I don’t think about him. It was hard at first, but not seeing him every day made it easier. It was right to leave like I did.

But every once in a while, he’ll pop up in my head when I make taco dip for Danni during a long Saturday shift or hear a song or when I see my raincoat and the splatters of mud still on it from him and me playing around. I haven’t even lit any candles, because I don’t know what to wish for when I have to blow them out.

To wish to feel like I did with him gives him power over me again, but deep down, that’s all I still really want.

To feel that good again.

It’ll just have to be with someone else now.

“So…” Danni pulls up another stool. “Don’t your fall classes start up soon?”

I click off the Free Cell game, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah.”

She waits for me to say more, but I’m not really sure what to say. My financial aid came in, so classes are paid for, and I have enough to get an apartment back home, but it almost feels like taking a step backward. He called when I first left, but after a few days it stopped, and there’s been nothing since.

I hate to admit it, but I wonder far too often what he’s doing, if he’s seeing anyone, if he misses me…

If I go home, I may run into him. What will that be like?