VAMPING THE OC
Part I
The Roach Motel
Night Shift, part 2.
"Yeah, what do you want, kid?" The night clerk of The Chino Motel checked him out as Seth stood fidgeting in front of her counter. He might have found her attention flattering if he'd seen anything of interest in her. The woman who sat in front of him was plain, wore no makeup (perhaps the usual late night clientele of The Chino had lower standards), and had hairwas an orange-red color that Seth had only previously seen on stuffed animals in the markdown bins of toy stores. Her hair, this particular night, was wound around plastic curlers of varying colors and sizes that marched across her head in neat, symmetrical rows. This whole, colorful mass was wrapped up in a purple scarf.
The clerk's dress was equally casual. She wore a shapeless, short-sleeved garment made of some thin, green, polyester fabric covered with large purple flowers. Snaps ran down its front from her neck until they disappeared from sight below the counter she sat behind. It reminded Seth of the way Alice Cramden dressed on the old Honeymooner episodes he'd watched on Nickelodeon. He had to fight the impulse to peek around the corner of the counter and see what foot ware she'd chosen to complete her work ensemble. If she wore fuzzy, purple flip-flops, he'd know for sure that he'd somehow stumbled through a time warp.
"Gee, I'm sorry to disturb your TV watching." Seth tried really hard to sound both sincere and apologetic. "I know how I hate to have people interrupt me when I'm watching…," he glanced over his shoulder at the television screen behind him, "The Best of COPS. But Ryan, Ryan Alwood in unit 24, told me that I needed to give you my car's license number and to check in with you because it's so late. I'm spending the night with Ryan."
The woman said nothing at this only lifted an eyebrow. Seth dropped his gaze to the floor, his face wrinkled in disgust, as he felt his ears start to burn. He silently cursed under his breath. Damn! Why don't I ever get anything right? That's so not how I wanted that to come out. What was even worse, he had the feeling that the two guys seated across the room had abandoned their television watching in favor of the Seth Cohen Show, live tonight from the lobby of The Chino Motel.
Pulling a blank card from a pile of similar cards in front of her, the clerk behind the counter passed it to him. "Fill this out. The information on your car and your license plate number goes here on the bottom line. You owe me $29.50 for tonight." She pointed out the boxes on the card he needed to complete. Seth's attention was momentarily distracted from what she was saying by the golden butterfly that glittered on the inch-long, flame-red nail that curved out from the end of her index finger. Each of her nails was similarly decorated, he noted.
The desk clerk leaned back in her swivel chair, the nails on her left hand drumming on the countertop as Seth completed the registration card.
"You are over eighteen, right? The owner don't want any minors around here causing her trouble with the cops."
Seth looked up from the card and said without any hesitation, "Yeah, right, eighteen. Almost nineteen in 23 days, actually. No problem there," he assured her as he passed her the registration card and his credit card.
The woman paid no attention to the registration but scowled fiercely at the credit card. She picked up his American Express card and held it by the edge as though it was something toxic. Seth noticed then that she had a name badge pinned to her chest in the center of a huge purple hibiscus. Her name was Ruby. He'd missed that fact earlier.
Holding the credit card between her thumb and index finger, the clerk tapped it on the desk top before she laid it down on the counter and picked up Seth's registration card. This time she looked carefully at the information on it. Ruby squinted up at Seth with faded gray eyes when she finished reviewing his registration.
"Newport Beach? You're a long way from home, kid." She tapped her fingers on the desk as she mused out loud. It was like a flock of angry butterflies had taken flight and was fluttering around her hand. "Do you have permission to use this credit card; or did you swipe your old man's? Maybe I do need to see some identification to verify your age. Or, you know, maybe I should just call your folks."
Seth took a breath. As he took in her narrowed eyes and speculative gaze Seth finally got the message. "Right, you are! Credit cards are so 20th century. They're way too much trouble for a small business like this. All that paperwork. Cash is more convenient. You don't mind if I use cash instead, do you?" At her quick nod of agreement, he gave her his biggest, friendliest, and he hoped, most mature, I'm not violating curfew tonight, I really am over eighteen, so there's no reason to call my folks, smile. Seth pulled bills out of his wallet and handed them to her.
The frown lines around Ruby's eyes disappeared as if by magic as her fingers closed around the cash. Now, with the question of the manner of payment out of the way, the transaction went more smoothly.
"The Manager likes cash and most of our customers prefer it too," she explained, suddenly in a friendly, talkative mood. "With cash we don't have to give the credit card companies a cut and there aren't any credit card charges showing up on monthly statements that you," she gave him a knowing smile, "have to explain to anyone."
"There you are Mr. Cohen. You and Ryan are set for the night." Ruby handed Seth a receipt, his change, and the credit card she'd found so upsetting. "Here's your room key. Check out time is noon today. If you decide to stay another night," she winked at Seth, "I'll need to need to see you by noon. Hope you enjoy your stay at The Chino.".
Seth, however, didn't step immediately away from the counter.
"Was there something else?" The frown lines reappeared on her face.
"Is there a drugstore or a supermarket that might still be open? Ryan's got a migraine and I wanted to get something for him." Seth waited hopefully.
"Something she is wrong with mon cher?" An oddly accented voice asked from so close behind Seth that he jumped.
"You want to help him, Jean Paul?" Ruby looked past Seth. Seth could just feel the joy of customer service bursting to get out of her – not! COPS obviously had more appeal for her than anything he might need.
"Mais oui, mon bijou. Anything for le beau Ryan."
She turned her gaze back on Seth. "He'll help you. Ask Jean Paul." Dismissing him from her thoughts, her eyes went back to the television and Seth might as well have donned Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. He'd ceased to exist for Ruby. Seth turned to see who this Jean Paul was who'd spoken.
A pale, smooth shaven, older man had come up behind Seth while he talked with the clerk. Seth wondered why he hadn't realized he was there. He traveled in a cloud of expensive cologne that Seth recognized from an unfortunate excursion that his mother had insisted they make to the men's cosmetics department at Neiman Marcus. She'd had the idea that he could get his grandfather cologne for Chirstmakkuh but had failed to take into account what all the scents in the air would do to his allergies. Seth unconsciously took a step back from the overpowering scent but the man stepped forward immediately to close the distance he'd attempted to open up between them.
The man was about Seth's height, had brown eyes, very thin eyebrows, and the look of someone who'd had up close, personal, and repeated experience with the whole Botox thing. His smooth, tight, unlined face made guessing the man's true age problematic. Seth thought from his experience meeting his mother's older Newpsie friends that 50 or 55 might be a fair, if never to be spoken aloud, guess for his age.
His eyes were turned up at the corners giving his face a slightly exotic look. Seth couldn't see his hair. Both his hair and head were hidden under a red silk turban. He wore satin slippers in the same color on his feet. A small silver bell hung from the curled toe of each slipper. They tinkled whenever he moved. Although not tall, he was big. He must have weighed at least 250 pounds and the red and white stripped caftan that he wore billowed out around him like a partially deflated hot air balloon.
"Ryan, he is not well?" He asked impatiently, with evident concern.
Between the fingers of his right hand he carried a long, empty, ivory cigarette holder that he used like a conductor's baton to accent his words. He made a sharp gesture with his cigarette holder when Seth didn't reply immediately. "Mon petit, the birds, they will be using your mouth for a nest if you do not shut it." He rapped Seth's chin smartly with the end of his holder to emphasize the point.
Seth closed his mouth with a snap. He didn't want the man to think he was staring or laughing at him which, of course, he so totally was doing. Seth blinked and looked down at the carpet and tried to pull himself together; but the sight of the tiny silver bell on the toe of Jean Paul's slipper dancing and jingling merrily as he tapped his foot completely nonplussed him. He had to look away to keep from breaking up.
Seth's head came up. "What? Er, right, Ryan. Ryan has a migraine, I guess; and he's got nothing for the pain in his room. I was hoping to find an all-night store where..." A sharp bark of laughter interrupted him. It came from the young man who'd remained sitting on the couch in front of the TV.
"Daviiid, be nice." Jean Paul said stretching out the boy's name like a piece of taffy. He turned back to Seth. "He laughs because nothing respectable, she stay open this late in Chino. You will have to drive to…" He paused and looked over at the boy on the couch. "Where would he have to drive, David? I know where nothing is in Chino." He gave a helpless, little shrug. "If I need something, I call the taxi to take me."
The young man on the couch turned until he was looking over its back at the two of them. "How long have you lived here, Jean Paul?" He asked with amusement in his voice.
"Oh, Daviiid. This is all only temporaire." He gestured around the lobby. "Why should I bother to learn where anything she is?" His mouth took on a pout. "You know what they say about blonds."
Seth heard a loud snort from behind him. "Yeah, old blond Queens. I'm trying to watch this program, Jean Paul. You want to hold court, do it someplace else, not in front of me. Go away." The golden butterflies took flight again as Ruby attempted to wave him out of her line of sight.
The man ignored Ruby and her comments. "I forget my manners. I am Jean Paul Dubois and you are?" The stare he gave Seth surprised the boy with its directness.
"Seth Cohen."
Jean Paul held out a hand that made Seth think of a swan with a sore neck. The fingers were apart and hung down at an angle. He took only Seth's fingers in his hand and gave him the most perfunctory shake. "And, Seth Cohen of Newport, how do you know my Ryan?" Seth didn't know what to make of the emphasis he heard in Jean Paul's my Ryan.
"Jean Paul," Ruby said again in warning.
Jean Paul put his hand lightly on Seth's shoulder and nudged him toward three chairs set off in the corner of the lobby. "Over here Seth. We will leave Ruby to her programme." Jean Paul waved a hand languidly at the boy on the couch, "and you too David. The three of us we will pool our knowledge and find a way to help Seth help notre bon ami."
David unwound his long legs and stood up from the couch. He followed them over to the indicated corner. David was tall and athletic with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Seth couldn't decide from studying his face what his ethnic heritage might be. His hair was black, cut short, and he had either the darkest tan Seth had ever seen or else there was something in his background other than Caucasian. He had piercing black eyes, high cheekbones, and a firm jaw. A dimple showed in his chin whenever he smiled and softened his face. In a town filled with beautiful people, Seth wondered how the agents had missed him and why his picture wasn't looking down from billboards around town hawking jeans or underwear.
"Jean Paul, cool it. You're claws are showing." Turning to Seth he said, "Ignore him. His growl is worse than his bite. I'm David Gillespie." He offered Seth his hand. His grip was firm but he didn't try to hurt Seth or turn it into a contest the way so many of the guys at Harbor did that intimidated him with their coolness and good looks. David folded a leg under him and sank into one of the vinyl covered armchairs.
"What's wrong with Ryan?"
"He's got the mother of all headaches and there's nothing in his room – not even a Tylenol. I got him undressed and into bed but that's all I could do for him."
"That's not surprising, the pills part, at least," David said looking past him at Jean Paul who sat on the other side of Seth. There was a strange smile on David's face that caused Seth to turn and look at the older man. He found that Jean Paul's eyes had narrowed and that he was staringat Seth with fierce intensity. One arm was across his ample stomach and the other rested on top of it with his fist under his chin.
"If anyone should be undressing or putting mon cher to bed, it is Jean Paul. He is hurting. I must fly to him," Jean Paul said in agitation.
Seth watched in amazement as Jean Paul"s hand with the cigarette holder in it cut through the air in swift, glittery strokes as he used it to punctuate his sentences. His excitement level must be considerable now Seth thought. Jean Paul had both hands in play and the light that reflected off all the rings that he wore on the fingers of both hands was truly impressive.
"I'm sure that I have something that will help. I have the Oxycodin, and the Percodan, and the Percocet, and the Vicodin. Does he need something for sleep? I have that too. Vite! Vite! Come. We will see what I have in my cupboard." Jean Paul had his hands on the arms of his chair as he rocked back and forth trying to get up the momentum that would propel him up and out of his seat.
Seth realized that his mouth had fallen open again and he closed it. David watched Seth's surprised reaction. A broad grin spread across his face.
"Don't get your shorts all in a bunch, Jean Paul. You know Ryan won't take that shit. Take it easy." He reached across and patted the older man on the knee. "You'll work yourself into another one of your conditions. You don't want that, do you? Do you remember how long it took Ryan and me by bus to visit you in the hospital last time?" Jean Paul looked unconvinced. "Well then, do you remember how awful the food was?"
Jean Paul gave a little shudder and made an obvious effort to slow his breathing. He stopped trying to get out of the chair and his face took on an abashed expression. He nodded and settled back into his chair. Tucking his slippers under the hem of his caftan, he made a production of straightening his robe before folding his hands demurely in his lap. He looked expectantly at David who was shaking his head. Seth saw amusement and affection reflected in his attitude toward the older man.
David turned back to Seth. "Ryan doesn't do drugs and he certainly won't take any of the ones Jean Paul has." Turning to the older man he asked, "JP, do you remember what he was like when he had the flu?" Jean Paul didn't answer but gave a loud sigh instead and David continued. "You'll be lucky to get an aspirin down him, Seth. Do you have anything like that in that magic cupboard of yours?" Jean Paul gave David an incredulous look at what was an obviously absurd question.
"I didn't think so and I needed my last couple this morning." David looked sheepish and Jean Paul chuckled understandingly. "So I guess, Seth, you and I will have to go on an aspirin run."
"Tylenol," Jean Paul corrected primly. Votres enfants, you're too young to be taking the aspirin."
"Okay, not aspirin." David agreed rolling his eyes.
"But what about Jean Paul? There must be something he can do. How can he help?" Jean Paul sat up straight in his chair and looked at the boys expectantly. David looked at Seth for a suggestion.
"You can get Ryan some ice and a juice for him out of the vending machine." Seth said. "I was going to do that. And, you can sit with him if he wants company." Seth hoped that this would be alright with Ryan and that he'd be polite and not hurt the old guy's feelings if he didn't wanthim around. "Here's the key."
"Certainment." Jean Paul accepted the key and slipped it into the pocket of his caftan. His expression softened somewhat as he considered Seth. "These things Jean Paul can do. Jean Paul will take good care of Ryan for you." He gave Seth an odd look. "You boys run and do the shopping and I will sit with l'invalide."
Jean Paul boosted himself out of his chair. He pulled a black beaded coin purse out of the pocket of his caftan and poked around in it for change. Satisfied that he had what he needed he headed off to the vending and ice machine that Seth had passed in the hallway. He was humming to himself as he left the lobby.
"We'll need to take your car," David said as the two boys stood up.
"He's…" Seth paused at a loss as to how to describe Jean Paul.
"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" David laughed and he gave Seth a sly look out of the corner of his eye. "You know Jean Paul has totally crushed on Ryan and he now heartily hates you?" Ignoring Seth's dumbfounded expression David continued walking across the lobby. He paused, his hand on the door, waiting for Seth to catch up and added casually over his shoulder, "But then he stopped hating me eventually even though he thought I was sleeping with Ryan."
As David held the door to the parking lot open for Seth, his eyes were bright with laughter as he listened to the choked sounds Seth tried to disguise as coughing. "Jean Paul will get over his pique with you too."