A Red Picket Fence
He knew exactly what and how he would handle 'Seattle'. Now he was about nine or ten hours away from initiating his plans. Fred was actually a bit nervous... The whole thing could blow up in his face... But he doubted it would.
There was only one way to find out. He pushed the ignition button, and began to head north west on '84. Three highways and ten hours would put him where he needed to be... For now.
Chapter 12
The ugly yellow walls and brown carpet were infected by cheap thrift store furniture. He blinked a few times before resuming taking a mental inventory. The TV in the corner looked like it actually had a picture tube. The black phone on the bedside table had a rotary dial... He had only seen those in old television shows. He was confused for a moment, and then everything came back to him as he completely woke and sat up in bed. Seattle, Hillside Motel - his real base of operations for the next few days. This place was perfect... Nestled in a copse of trees on a frontage road directly off the 99 Freeway, better known as Aurora Ave. You couldn't even see the place from the road. This was his 'safe' house, his escape if things got crazy.
He wanted coffee... The old lady at the motel office had told him that there was everything he would need for breakfast in the refrigerator, which was certainly on a list somewhere as a historical artifact. The slightly rounded edges and avocado colored behemoth sat next to a small table containing a yellow and chrome two coil hot plate, a vintage chrome coffee percolator that he wasn't sure he knew how to use, and a chrome toaster of the same vintage. Looking at the power socket beside the toaster made him realize why there were a few two to three prong power adapters residing in a small wicker basket on top of the chest of drawers. All the power outlets were the two prong type that hadn't been used in fifty or more years.
The 'fridge' was well stocked; a half loaf of white bread from a bakery he'd never heard of, a baggie full of ground coffee, butter, jam and jelly packets, powdered coffee creamer, sugar packets and another baggie full of unmatched plastic sporks and knives. He shrugged, sussed out how the old percolator worked, and got it started. While his coffee perked, he showered and dressed. The old toaster did it's job, and soon he was having toast on a paper plate and coffee in a Melamine cup.
While eating he made a few notes on his phone outlining his plans.
And then stopped.
He had a better idea... Well better for him anyway.
He had around ten days to two weeks before everything was ready. His original plan was to meet with all three 'ex's' together... Tell 'em what he thought and what he was going to do, and leave - giving the gals time to think stuff over.
Hell, why be noble? He could get himself laid daily - none of the three were a bad fuck.
This just changed how and when 'the reunion' would be.
He knew, from Gib's report, that the gals blamed each other more than they blamed him for his leaving. He had outlined his reasons for leaving in the note he left them - That he'd felt more like a dildo than anything else to them, and that their constant bitching at him and each other was a pain. Then there were the fights - those bitches got into some hellacious battles, both verbal and physical, and drug him into the middle of every battle. If he met all three at once it would just go back to that - or they'd blame him for leaving and screwing it all up... probably all gang up on him. Due to this, he realized he should meet them individually, for all those reasons - but now he needed to figure out who to go to first. He didn't expect any of the gals to run to his arms while professing their undying love. He also didn't expect them to rebuke him - maybe. He also knew that none of these initial meetings could be done at his house - it would be too easy to get caught by the other two.
Carly would be the easiest to find since she worked at the university pharmacy. The twins would be the hardest, since they could be anywhere. Sams' yard service business had a regular route. But it changed seasonally, and as customers came and went. Sam would be the hardest because of this. Mel could be found easy enough by checking the Seattle area Multiple Listings and finding out which property's were listed by her. An email or text sent to her with feigned interest in a property would work. Carly may be the best to start with, since of the three she was actually the best liar.
This changed everything.
He'd need to rent a car. At least Carly and Mel would recognize the green Caddy as Gib's. He'd have to take Gibby's Caddy back to Gib's house. Next, he'd need to get two other motel rooms. If any of 'em ever came looking for him, he didn't want them running into each other in the motel parking lot. Phones also... Three of 'em. He could get the pay-as-you-go type cheap enough.
He suddenly realized he'd need a cover story for the time he'd been gone... Also the cover story should work when ever he was with one of the gals since he would be unavailable for the other two... He did have an elderly Aunt about two hours north. He could tell them all he was helping her and the family for the last ten months, and wouldn't be in Seattle all the time.
He nodded to himself... This would work.
He drove north through Woodland Park heading toward Gibby's place when he noticed the bastion of discount retail in a strip mall on the side of the road. Twenty minutes later he had resumed the trip to Gibby's with three new phones. Arriving at the house, he pressed the button clipped to the sun visor, and Gib's garage door rolled up. He really needed to store his duffle bag... Well, mainly his cash. The trunk in Gibby's car would do as well as anywhere else. It's not like he could make a deposit at a bank. He pushed the visor button again, and waited for the garage door to close before grabbing the money out of his duffle bag and depositing the small cash valise in the trunk. Gib had told him the spare key was hanging on the wall behind the washer / dryer. He looked, and found it. He let himself into the house via the house door in the attached garage. Walking through the sparsely furnished, unadorned house, he went directly to Gibby's office and turned on the printer / copier sitting on Gib's messy desk. After making a few photocopies, he retraced his steps to the entry hall, and back out the front door. He locked everything back up as he went, and pocketed the house and car keys. If he needed to 'not' be in Seattle, he could stay here at Gibby's place.
He'd already called for a car, and given Gibby's address. They should be by to pick him up within ten or fifteen minutes. He spent the time sitting on the front porch and programming each phone to show an 'S', 'M' or 'C' on the welcome screen. The car rental folks showed up shortly after, and within an hour he was back at the Hillside Motel with his rental car.
Reaching into the bag with the phones, he pulled one out. The screen showed 'M', so this is where Melanie would think he was staying. He quickly added 'Hillside' to show just under the 'M' on the phones welcome screen. Driving north along Aurora He saw 'The Marco Polo Motel' about a mile and a half from the Hillside... Perfect. He pulled in, took a room and grabbed the next phone from the bag. He added 'Marco Polo' just below the 'S' that showed on the screen. Pulling back onto northbound Aurora, within two blocks he had taken the third motel room at the 'Park Plaza Motel' and added the motels name to the phone with 'C' on the screen. He kept this phone out, and stored the rest in a bag in the trunk of the rental car.
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard as he pulled back onto Aurora. It was one o'clock, and he was hungry... Heading north again, he saw a sign advertising 'Beth's Cafe' and the actual place hiding under a garish blue awning with matching paint on the building. While he was normally an avid purveyor of Mom & Pop businesses, this place looked like it should have a sign hanging in the window proclaiming 'EAT HERE - GET THE SHITS'. He passed it up, and suddenly remembered 'Roxy's Diner'. A great place to get almost anything diner-ish, and it was just south of where he was, on 36th.
One pastrami on rye, a good cup of coffee and 90 minutes later he was parked behind the University Medical Center, in a stall about two hundred feet from Carly's car. She used to work the early shift, starting at six in the morning. If that was still the case, she'd be getting off work, and out here any moment. He quickly set up a text message to Carly, and waited for her to exit the building complex. A few moments later the employee's door opened as a few people came outside. She was chatting with some of the small group of people as they left work - their conversations ending as they scattered across the parking lot in various directions.
He sent the text:
'Carly; meet me at the Park Plaza Motel 4401 Aurora Ave N 98103. Room 11. I may be up to ten minutes late, please wait. DO NOT TELL THE OTHERS. Love Freddie.'
He chuckled at the 'Love Freddie', and looked up to see her reach into her purse and retrieve her phone. This was the litmus... If this worked, it all should. Carly continued walking as she thumbed her phones screen, then stopped. Her eyes wide, mouth slightly open, he could tell she was reading the text message again. She continued on to her car, got in, but didn't start it. His phone chimed - incoming message.
'You're in town? Why not go to the house? Where have you been?'
He read the message, started his car and drove toward Pacific Street. Stopping again just before leaving the parking area, he sent his reply:
'Driving. Meet me at motel. Traffic. Lots to tell you.'
Then he continued out of the parking lot onto Pacific, then to the 513 north.
A moment later his phone chimed again, and displayed her reply:
'Okay'
He dropped his phone in the cup holder and smiled wryly as he thought that this idea just might work. Turning left onto 45th Street, he knew he would get to the motel before she did, and that was a good thing.
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Yes, I know... Still not the last chapter.
Keep reading - it should be over soon!
Maybe