Hotel Key

Chapter 5

Daryl rubbed his hand through his short crop of dirty blonde hair. He just came home for lunch. The next thing he knew, a glass vase was flying past his head and smashing against the wall. He hadn't seen his brother in weeks. And RickyJo hadn't been to their apartment in even longer. Now suddenly, they were both present and having what looked to be a rather epic fight with each other. Daryl had no idea what it was about. But he figured the best logical action for him to take was to separate the two of them first and ask questions later. RickyJo was screaming and Merle was grabbing at her. So Daryl labeled him as the aggressor. He snatched his brother by one arm, grasping the back of his shirt with the other. Since Daryl caught him unaware, it was fairly easy to toss the man out of the apartment and into the hallway. Daryl slammed the door shut and locked it, hoping that Merle's keys were part of the mess that was scattered across the floor and not still in his pocket. Or they were probably going to have round two of this fight right here and now.

"What the hell is goin' on?," Daryl asked. He took in RickyJo's bedraggled appearance, noticing for the first time that she clothed only in a skimpy silk robe that was hanging half open. Her hair was damp and looked like a tangled mess. And there were red marks on her wrists and forearms. "RickyJo," he asked, his voice full of concern, "...are ya alright?" RickyJo considered Daryl's question. She was many things at the moment, but alright was most certainly not one of them. Before she could answer, there was a loud crash against her apartment door. Her eyes widened. The door shook with the sound of a second blow.

"He's trying to kick the goddamn door in," she squealed. Daryl took a deep breath, glancing towards the door in irritation. He was not in the mood for Merle's shit today.

"Oh hell no," Daryl cursed. He gestured to RickyJo, motioning for her to position herself on the opposite side of the door from him. "When I say," Daryl told her, "...open the door quick as you can." RickyJo nodded. Leaning forward, she unlocked the door and gripped the doorknob. She startled a little as the door was once again kicked. Daryl waited half another second. And then he shouted. "NOW!"

RickyJo pulled the door open, moving quickly back and out of the way as she swung it. Daryl stuck his leg out into the doorway. Merle was flying at the door, ready to put his shoulder into it as hard as he could. But instead of a blocked doorway, he hit open air. And his shins hit Daryl's leg. Merle flew through the doorway, flopping facedown into the carpet with such force that he slid halfway across the room on his face. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air. He got the wind knocked out of him hard when he hit the floor. Daryl leaned over the man, grabbing him by the shirt.

"I dunno what the fuck is goin' on," Daryl told him, "...but its time for you ta go!" Daryl pointed towards the door, gesturing in the direction he expected Merle to go. Which was any way that got his drunk ass the hell out of his face.

"Fuck you!," Merle cursed, taking a half hearted swing at his brother. Daryl jerked back and stood up, squaring up his shoulders and balling up his fists for the fight he now knew was coming the moment Merle got to his feet. But before that could happen, RickyJo stepped in front of him. She pointed her finger at Merle.

"That's enough!," she hollered. "Ya got about three seconds to get out before I call the fuckin' cops! So unless ya wanna go to jail today ya better get the fuck outta here!" Merle was already on his feet. The side of his face was covered in rug burn. And his shirt was ripped. He hesitated for a moment, gauging how serious RickyJo was about her threat to call the pigs on him. She hated the police as much as he did. Maybe more. But she looked plenty angry enough to follow through.

"If she doesn't call," Daryl added, "I will. I swear I will, I'm not fuckin' playin' with ya Merle!"

"FUCK YA BOTH!," Merle hollered, flipping the bird at them before he stomped off towards the door. Merle slammed the door so hard behind him that it shook the entire apartment.

"He'll be back," RickyJo lamented. She adjusted her robe and tightened the belt to keep it closed.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "...but at least he's gone fer now. Fucker smelled like the bottom of a bottle." With the immediate threat gone, Daryl turned towards RickyJo. He hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. And Daryl always convinced himself that he overestimated her looks in his mind. No one was that hot. But having her in front of him with her long tan legs on display, he had to admit that she was even more appealing in person. He lifted his hand and began to chew on the side of his thumb, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I …uh …I," she stammered. RickyJo took a deep breath. Daryl must have just come from work at the auto shop. Because he was in his work uniform and there was a smudge of car oil smeared across the leg of his pants. His hair was shorter than when she saw him last. And his goatee was neatly trimmed. She bit at her lip and lowered her eyes. "Do ya think it'd be alright if…," she began. Her voice was trembling and her hands were shaking. "Can I give you a hug?," she finally asked. RickyJo heard the low timbre of Daryl's chuckle. And then he was pulling her into his arms. "I really missed you," she gushed as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Missed you too," he admitted. Everyday she was gone, Daryl picked up his phone at least ten times with the intention to call her and try to make things right. But he couldn't find the right words.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong," she told him. Her voice was shaking and it was clear she was trying her hardest to hold back her tears. "I didn't know what to do. I've never been with a man before. If you tell me what I did wrong, I swear I won't do it again. I …um …I'll do whatever you want." Daryl pulled back, dipping his head until he could see RickyJo's face. Her chin was quivering and she looked quite serious about what she was saying. At that moment, Daryl realized they had a terrible misunderstanding. One of epic proportions. Because he wasn't upset about anything RickyJo did in bed. On the contrary, that was hands down the best might of his life. He was upset because he thought she only slept with him to try and get pregnant. He thought she intended to brush him off after and raise the baby with her girlfriend.

"Ya didn't do anythin' wrong," he assured her, lifting his hand and wiping the tears that were streaming down her face. "I thought you only fucked me ta get pregnant." RickyJo knitted her brows together, lifting her chin to look at him. She seemed as confused to hear his words as he was to hear hers. "I thought you were usin' me to catch pregnant so ya could go raise the baby with Laney," Daryl admitted.

"Why in hell would you think that?," she asked. She knew Daryl mentioned something about not using protection while they had sex, but that was still a pretty big leap to take. And it was completely untrue.

"I heard ya say I love ya to someone," Daryl admitted, "...and when ya got in the shower I went through yer phone. Ya tole me you were talkin' ta Jess. But ya weren't. You were talkin' to her, ta Laney." RickyJo sighed.

"She was blowing me up. She wouldn't stop callin'," RickyJo explained. "...we were dating for years. I didn't wanna break up with her over the phone. I guess I shouldn't have said that. But I just wanted her to stop callin' until I could get back here and talk ta her." RickyJo looked down at her bare feet again before adding, "...I'm sorry I lied to you."

"I'm sorry fer everythin' I said," Daryl said, pulling RickyJo back into his arms. It felt so good to have her body against his again. He was trying not to beat himself up too badly over what happened. The whole thing was nonsense that they obviously could have cleared up with a simple conversation. And as the man in the relationship, he figured the responsibility of starting that conversation was on him. Daryl wasn't much for talking about his feelings. But he decided he was going to have to try, if only to avoid another misunderstanding like this.

With their argument resolved, RickyJo went to her room and pulled some clothes on. Daryl called the shop and told them he was having a family emergency and wouldn't be back in until tomorrow. Then they each grabbed a trash bag and started picking up the mess in their apartment. Daryl laughed at RickyJo, who was tossing her own dishes and glasses away into the garbage. For someone with so much of it, she didn't waste money often. But once in a while she would get in a snit and decide she was going to buy new dishes instead of cleaning the ones she had. And it looked like today was one of those days. Daryl was picking up the pieces of the vase she smashed when there was a knock on the door.

"That better not be who I think it is," RickyJo groused.

"If it is, he's not getting back in here," Daryl announced. Merle needed to take a major sober up before he came home. And even then, Daryl was hesitant to let him back. RickyJo was the one that always gave in to Merle's sob stories.

Daryl cracked the door open. At first he was relieved to see anyone besides his brother standing there. But he quickly became nervous all over again when he realized two police officers were standing outside his door.

"What can I do fer ya?," Daryl asked, swinging the door a little further open.

"We had a call about a domestic disturbance at this address," one of the men explained. Daryl felt RickyJo's hand on his shoulder. She opened the door up the rest of the way and invited the officers to step inside.

"The person that was causing the disturbance is already gone," she explained with a big fake smile plastered on her face. God only knew what her downstairs tenants heard. It would be best to just cooperate and get these officers back out of her apartment before the disturbance in question showed back up.

"Is this your place?," one of the officers asked, directing his question to Daryl. Daryl shook his head.

"It's my place," RickyJo explained, "...but we live here together." She stepped closer to Daryl and took his hand in hers. "...and sometimes his brother stays here when he's between places," RickyJo added ticking her chin towards Daryl.

"That's who was causing the disturbance?," the officer asked. RickyJo nodded and Daryl rolled his eyes. Disturbance was quite the word for what Merle caused. Tornado avalanche of bullshit was a more accurate description of the man's handiwork.

"Were you assaulted, m'am," the officer asked, giving her red wrists and forearms a pointed glance. RickyJo shook her head.

"Naw. He was just drunk and being an ass," RickyJo said. "When I tole him ta leave he got mad and made a fuss. But he was just yellin' and kickin' the door. He didn't hit me." The officer nodded. This wouldn't be the first time that a woman blamed a nonexistent third party for her injuries so that her boyfriend wouldn't get in trouble for smacking her around. But he didn't think that was the case here. The woman was leaning into the man for comfort, something domestic violence victims didn't often do. And even if she was being assaulted by her boyfriend, she clearly didn't want their help in dealing with it.

"Okay," he said, "I'll just need to get yer names and such for the report. Then we can let ya get on with your day." The man asked Daryl for full name and birthday first.

"Daryl Dixon, July fourth, nineteen seventy seven."

"He's a cancer," RickyJo added, nodding like she expected the officer to add that to the notes he was jotting down on his little paper. The other cop held back a chuckle. When the first one finished writing, she gave him her information. "Ericka King, November sixteenth, nineteen eighty five."

"A scorpio?," the other cop joked. She nodded. He smiled at her, but she could see the wheels turning in his mind. "Wasn't there a missing person case with her same name?," he asked his partner. The man considered the question for a moment before he whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and started poking away at it.

"Yeah. Ericka King. The tobacco heiress. Says here, she was reported missing a month ago." He scrolled down further before turning the phone towards his partner to show him the image on his screen. Then he turned the phone towards RickyJo, displaying a photo of her on the screen. The picture was the headshot she used for her work ID. She wondered if someone from the college reported her missing. It didn't seem likely. She told them she was going to be unavailable for the summer. So there was no reason for them to be concerned. The officer turned the phone back around and scrolled through a little more information.

"...Looks like her family was questioned, they said she was camping but couldn't say where. So the case was left open."

"Well, I'm not missing," RickyJo said with a laugh. "I'm right here in my apartment." The officer chuckled a little and said he guessed they could close that case. He also looked at the woman in front of him with more interest. Covered in tattoos, she didn't look like a wealthy girl. But the missing person report said she was an heiress. Which explained the fancy penthouse apartment. But not the car mechanic boyfriend. Or his drunken disturbance making brother.

"Can you tell me who reported me missing?," RickyJo asked. The officer nodded, moving his finger the opposite way on his screen as he scrolled back to the top of his report.

"Yep. Says here you were reported missing by an Elaine Villalobos."

"That nosy bitch," Daryl groused. RickyJo snorted out laughter and tried to turn it into a cough.

"Someone you know?," the officer asked. RickyJo sighed and nodded.

"My ex-girlfriend," she admitted. "I wasn't missing. I just wasn't returning her calls because we broke up." At the mention of a girlfriend, the officer's eyes went slightly wider. He glanced back and forth between RickyJo and Daryl. Not only was she rich. Like yacht owning rich. But she was bisexual as well. This auto shop asshole pretty much hit the fucking lottery. All he seemed to attract were down on their luck single moms or married women looking for a fling.

"I think we have all the information we need," the other officer said, clapping his hands together and looking at his partner for confirmation. "If you have any more problems with your brother, don't be afraid to call us back." The man held his card out. RickyJo reached forward and snagged it. She smiled as she read his name on the card. Rick Grimes was about the most cop sounding name she ever heard. Like if she had to make up a name for him, that would be it. Rick seemed eager to be on his way. But his partner lingered for another moment in the doorway of the apartment.

"There's a sign on the window downstairs that says there's an apartment available for rent?," he asked. "Do you know who I would contact about that?" RickyJo nodded.

"The number on the sign is for the management company," she explained. "...but you can contact me directly. I own the building." Having one of Atlanta's finest living downstairs might not be the worst thing ever. As long as he didn't make a fuss about the wild parties that sometimes happened on the rooftop. If she gave him a good deal on his rent, RickyJo bet she could convince him to mind his own business. "Give me yer card and I'll shoot ya a text," she suggested. The man nodded. He pulled out his card, writing on it before he handed it over to her.

"You can message me there," he said, gesturing to the number he wrote on the card and not the one that was printed on it. "That's my personal number." RickyJo stuck her hand out, offering him a shake. He held on just a little longer than was really proper, giving her a handsome smile. She glanced down at the card again.

"Well Shane Walsh," she said, "...I'll talk to you soon." The man smiled as he followed his partner down the hallway towards the elevator. Daryl snapped the door shut behind the man.

"That's my personal number," Daryl said, imitating the man with a jealous scowl on his face. RickyJo giggled. "Last thing we need around here is a damn cop. Merle does good enough gettin' hisself sent to the slammer without any help."

"I don't know," RickyJo teased. "...he seemed nice." Daryl gave her a pointed glance. She was grinning like a cheshire cat, clearly enjoying that she made him jealous shaking hands with that horny cop. Daryl shook his head and laughed as he pulled her into his arms. She pressed her lips to his. But he pulled back before the kiss could go any further.

"Let's finish cleanin'," he suggested, "...before anyone else shows up."