hey guys! one bonus chapter, as promised! i actually really loved this chapter.
Chapter Seven: Kingdom Come
There's a moment after every haircut, when the barber holds up a mirror to the back of your head and asks how it looks. From the unfamiliar angle, you feel as though you're staring at a stranger. That's how I felt when I heard my dad at the cabin the previous night. I'd always known him to be a liar (and a cheater, and manipulative, and selfish), but being dishonest and being a criminal weren't exactly the same. The man from last night wasn't my father- not as I knew him, anyway.
The east end of Coolsville was a wasteland. Half of all the business were closed down, leaving ransacked and vandalized shells in their place. The swing sets in the park were all broken, and the swirly plastic slide was decorated with cigarette burns. A horrible smell filled the air, and trash filled the streets. This was the side of town where people like Curtis were from. To me, these were uncharted waters.
In the heart of the East Side was Paradise Motel, a title which warranted a false advertising claim, I was sure. In a word, it was tacky- a decaying one story building covered in red and blue neon signs which screamed its vacancy to any passers-by. I doubted it was ever full. Fake palm trees surrounded the parking lot in an ill-advised attempt to fool its patrons into thinking they were somewhere nice, like California or Arizona.
But the crowning glory of Paradise Motel was the huge sign which sat in front of it- the tallest free-standing structure in the whole East Side. It was a grotesque hot pink sign, with a huge lit up arrow pointing towards the motel ("lit up" is a generous term, at least half of the blinding light bulbs were burnt out). The words, "Welcome to Paradise!" were written in cursive with an electric blue neon tube. Just beneath it, a marquee sign read, "POOL CL SED 4 CLEANING." This monstrous excuse for advertisement was directly within view of my window- its vile lights careening into my suite at all times.
I had been staying in the Honeymoon Suite, solely because my gut instinct told me it was probably the least slept in room. I doubted anyone would come here unless they couldn't afford anything better, in which case, hey- skip the honeymoon and save the cash. I found a crusty old sock in my bed, but that didn't change my opinion that I was in the cleanest room in the motel.
I hadn't seen any of the other suites but, from what I could tell, there were three things that set the Honeymoon Suite apart from the other rooms at Paradise Motel:
1) The red polyester duvet cover and matching pillowcases, which had been sprinkled with rose petals upon my arrival.
2) The ceiling mirror that hung directly above the king sized bed.
3) About 50,000 fluffy pillows.
Other than those three things, the Honeymoon Suite was just your standard grungy motel room.
I had spent the whole day sleeping with a heart-shaped throw pillow draped over my face to block out the light. Staying in bed, I had decided, was the easiest way to forget that one's father was operating a drug ring, and that his product had appeared in the stomach of two local murder victims.
Not that any of that mattered. I was done trying to work this case. Done trying to be someone I wasn't. I was no hero. It was something I had suspected ever since the night we snuck into the morgue, but now I knew it was true. We had all the pieces we needed to solve this case, but I was too much of a coward to put them all together. So afraid of upsetting the status quo that I was willing to let a criminal walk free.
My new plan was much safer: lay low for the rest of the summer, then drive as far away as I could and never look back. I'd let my father do whatever he wanted, and his secrets would die with me. It was a dishonorable path, no doubt, but I didn't see another option that didn't endanger me and my friends.
A knock came on my door, and I debated for a moment whether it was even worth answering. The knock returned, slightly more hurried this time, and I groaned as I tossed the heart shaped pillow to the ground, pulling myself out of bed as though my body weighed a million tons. Only pausing for a moment to sniff my armpits (which smelt like death itself, but I didn't care), I trudged toward the door and slowly pulled it open, rubbing my eyes in the evening light.
There in front of me stood Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby, holding a tray of four milkshakes and a grocery bag filled with what my nose told me were four orders of The Burger Binge's all-day breakfast special, pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon.
The gang did their best to smile as though nothing were wrong, save for Velma, who pushed her glasses up her nose and remarked, "You look like shit."
Shaggy elbowed her in the gut.
I stepped out of the way and my friends all filed into the Honeymoon Suite, loitering awkwardly in the space between the king sized bed and the television. I grabbed the remote control and tucked it aside, fearing that one of them might turn on the set and discover the pay-per-view porn I'd been watching a few hours before.
Daphne sat down on the corner of the bed, the only space where the covers hadn't been erratically jumbled around.
"Well, Fred," she said with an obviously fake smile, "you certainly seem comfortable in your new accommodations."
I huffed, crawling back into bed. I propped up my pillows so I could sit upright and shook out the blankets before letting them fall back onto me. Daphne shot me a patronizing smile, not even trying to disguise how adorably pitiful she found my situation. She crawled up towards me, resting her head on my shoulder and reaching out for my hand, which she held as though I were the most delicate object in the world.
"Vanilla, right?" Shaggy asked, handing me a milkshake. He handed Daphne a strawberry one, which she cradled like a baby might cradle its bottle.
He and Velma sat down on the end of the bed, clearly a little bit disgusted.
"So," Velma started, "Daphne filled us in on last night's reconnaissance mission. I think this gives us a strong starting point, but there are still questions that need to be answered. For example, how does your father's drug connect to the victims' deaths? What's been attacking them?"
"Hold on," I said. My voice came out quiet and groggy. It was the first time I'd spoken in nearly twenty-four hours. "I'm out, you guys."
"Dude, you can't be 'out,'" Shaggy chuckled. "If anything, you've gotten yourself even further in."
"No, Shaggy," I replied sternly, placing my milkshake on the bedside table, "I'm not doing this anymore. I can't. Not with my dad mixed up in everything. I'm sorry, I just don't have what it takes to go up against him."
"Fred," Velma warned with a this-had-better-be-a-joke scoff, "we've unlocked a major conspiracy here. This is bigger than you're insubstantial relationship with your father. This is life or death, maybe even for us."
"No," I repeated, "It's only life or death if we stay on this. You guys have to back off. Let's just try and enjoy the rest of the summer, and then in a few weeks we can go our separate ways."
"Come on, Freddy-" Daphne began, but I cut her off with a stern glare.
An awkward silence hung throughout the room. Daphne, Velma, and Shaggy all shot looks at each other, mouthing the words to an argument they didn't want me to be a part of. I stared at my hands.
This was all my fault. There was no denying it. I wished more than anything that I'd never had the stupid idea to break into the morgue. I could have lived the rest of my life in blissful ignorance of who my father really was. Maybe the gang could have actually enjoyed the rest of the summer, rather than spending it staring awkwardly at each other in a cheap motel room, probably all wishing that they'd never met me.
We sat like that, quietly and uncomfortably, for at least a few minutes, before Shaggy glanced up into the ceiling mirror and asked, "do you guys remember when we went to the playground to watch Daphne shoot paintballs at trees?"
"That was last week, Shaggy," Velma noted, falling back onto the bed. "It's not like we'd forget."
"It feels like forever ago," he said, "but still. That was one of the best nights of my life."
"Remember when Daphne nailed that squirrel by accident?" Velma added wistfully.
"And then we saw Sheriff Stone coming out of the coffee shop across the street," Daphne added, stifling a laugh, "and I tried to shoot him in the head-"
"But you hit his badge instead!" Shaggy finished. "God, then he spilt his hot chocolate all over his shirt."
"'Aw, my cocoa!'" Daphne and Velma cried out in unison, quoting what Sheriff Stone had exclaimed as his boiling hot chocolate had poured all down his front.
The three of them erupted into laughter, and I couldn't help but chuckle with them. It felt good, just to laugh with my friends and not have to worry about the murderers and drug dealers that had recently taken over my life. I finally felt as though I could breathe.
We ate our all-day breakfasts in bed together, laughing and talking until the early hours of the morning before we finally fell asleep.
I'd spent the entire day dipping in and out of uneasy slumber, but I hadn't felt well rested until just then. Prior to my friends' visit, I'd been sleeping to avoid. Chasing away the demons that seemed to lurk around every corner. That night I felt safer than I had in a long time, and I slept simply because I was exhausted.
But it didn't last.
I woke up the next morning and was immediately faced with sensory overload. The TV was blaring out local news, and the gang were all gone- all except Velma, who was repeatedly swatting my bare chest with the fluffy heart-shaped pillow.
"What's going on?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes lazily.
"There was another attack!" Velma cried, grabbing my blankets and pulling them off of me. "Get up!"
I snatched the pillow from her hand and threw it across the room. "I told you guys," I warned, "we're done with this stuff." I sat up, throwing my legs off the side of the bed and running my hands through my disheveled hair.
Velma picked up the pillow and whipped it back at me, hitting me square in the head.
"Alive, meathead!" She yelled.
My head snapped up at this. I glanced towards the television, where a news broadcaster relayed the incident. A third politician had been found in the lobby of the Coolsville Ritz, claiming to have just barely escaped the clutches of a large animal, which attacked him in his room. The man was immediately rushed to the hospital, where he was currently being held in the ICU.
Velma made her way towards the door, pausing just as she was about to leave.
"Get dressed," she said, "the gang's already in the van."
I wanted to argue, but there was no point. I'd drive the gang to the hospital to satisfy their curiosity, and then we could be done. Besides, this living victim would probably just tell us that it was a bear or bobcat that attacked him. Then we could really close the book on this mystery.
I nodded sleepily, standing up and reaching for the white tee shirt which sat at the top of my duffel bag.
"Oh, and Fred?" Velma said, tossing me the TV remote, which I caught clumsily. "You know the porn on the internet is free, right?"
that was chapter 7/14! hope you enjoyed! chapter 8 will be out on thursday!