My Heart Keeps Pounding
"In a HEARTBEAT," we all three sang in unison to the fading sounds of Weezer playing from the out-dated tape deck that was some sort of hackneyed aftermarket installation. The speakers buzzed lowly with the distortion caused by the excess of moisture allowed to permeate their skins. We were not concerned. The sight of the I-79 split gave us hope and readiness for the wonders of High Street.
"Ditch the joint," puffed Dirt as we took the curve north towards 79. "Somebody either eat it or throw it out. We aren't saving it for later. We've got plenty."
Edwards threw the burnt remnants into his mouth and swished the last few swigs of a Michelob around to ease the burden. "Done and done," smiled Edwards. "Is it bar time?"
"The kind of place I'm gonna take you boys is one of the premier spots on the mountain. And it's always bar time for us. Drink up," laughed Dirt pulling a Coors Light can from out of the cooler wedged between the front bucket seats. I had this feeling that Dirt was getting us involved in strange weirdness that was beyond his fathoming. I trusted his decision whole-heartedly, he was a force to be reckoned with and while having Edwards and I along nothing too terrible could ever happen. No one would ever dream of bringing down the hammer on us in the mountain state. It was beyond reasoning and good sense.
We bounded through narrow streets, past firework stands, and down the one-way streets of Mountaineer country. Paramount on our list of things to do was take stock and compile our collective senses easily accomplished by taking a hard right into a motel parking lot.
"Get us a room," bellowed Edwards and Dirt in unison while gazing over their shoulders at me. I was not unaccustomed to this scenario. It happened countless nights and weird mornings. I was the courier of all special missions because Dirt was too paranoid to deal with the public in any legal transaction. Give him a drug deal and he was strictly professional but renting a room or buying Visine was a chore.
"Alright," I smiled. "Let's see some green for the room and then we're set."
"Why should I give you any money," questioned Dirt. "After all, this is my neck of the woods. Without my skills, you'd both be lost and alone."
"Good point," I shrugged. "Anyways, you got some cash for me or no?"
They handed crumpled bills over their shoulders and poured them into my lap. Too much, I thought, but ample for my evening and pains of wandering into this hole on Earth. Who was to say what lay behind the rotting wooden door of the lobby? Only my wits could save me on this one if at all.
I parted the weathered screen door and walked into the stifling smell of the manager's office. Behind a stack of papers about four inches high a fading woman dressed in a ragged blouse peered at me with a questioning look. "Need a room," she asked almost as if it were a bother from her routine of moving papers from the large stack and into a vertical filing system against the far wall.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied quickly. "Something away from the rest if that's available. And, I'll guess room service is out of the question." She smiled and laughed briskly. "So, how far to the bar district from here?"
"Just around the block, honey," she floated a broad smile my way while removing a lonely key from the far reaches of the rack. "Breakfast is included with the room."
"Oh," I muttered. "What does this breakfast consist of?"
"You get the morning paper and black coffee," she laughed hysterically.