Bayside

Victoria Richards works the overnight shift at the Bayside Inn. In truth, the bay is more like 10 miles down the road, and the motel does not resemble anything close to the idea of an old-school British Inn. It is more like the setting for numerous nightly cheap porno flicks, although nothing resembling a Jenna Jameson or Ron Jeremy would ever grace these rooms. If films were made here, they would most likely star talent from “big booty hoes.com,” or one of the “eighth street Latinas”.

 

Vicki is a twenty-three-year-old “runaway” from upstate New York. But not in the sense of the mass murderer escaping the police, or the sad unwatched child crying out for attention. No, her story is that of the girl who fled to a sunnier state for what was supposed to be a brief hiatus from the fast life. After living through the drama of abusing newfound college freedoms, clashes with kin over the ideas of traditional family values, and a destined-to-fail relationship with a girlfriend, who was her first and only love, Vicki felt she needed a break.

 

These days, life moves at a much slower pace than what she is used to, but she learned to adjust. She doesn’t trust as easily as she used to, and although this has led to a slimmer network of “friends,” the group that she does hang with is definitely more reliable. There’s Cyndi, a girl who is Trini by birth but Indian by heritage, Bernadette, the Haitian girl whose crazy home life makes Vicki thank the lord for her shitty but functional family situation, and Sarah. Sarah is a nice girl, but she is also that one friend that everyone has. The one who is “normal,” aka just not that interesting. Nevertheless, she is a great person.

 

With her new job, her new group of friends, and her new surroundings, Victoria has begun to establish what some may call a stable lifestyle. She doesn’t party as much, or much at all. The drug/alcohol use is non-existent (save for that occasional drink,) and she is currently getting certified in a medical coding and billing program.

Sometimes, she truly misses the highs, the parties, and the openly lesbian/bisexual girls. Not to mention that some days, her new slower lifestyle is the achingly, “maybe I could shoot somebody to make it more interesting,” type of boring. She has seriously thought about it, her dad does have a gun. But in the essence of adhering to social norms, she resists the urges. Oh, and there’s also the fact that she hates hospitals, and the idea of processing paperwork for the majority of her adult life is less than appealing.

 

Nevertheless, when she came down to live with her father, this was part of the deal. She would get a job, redirect herself towards some kind of scholastic endeavor, and more or less try to be a good girl. But after moving out of her father’s house to live with her older sister and her older sisters’ current “love of my life, I swear he is” beau, her new lifestyle has become an ok routine, and it’s just been easier to continue on the path of making her daddy proud. And if not proud, at least not upset and as worried for his youngest daughter.

The clientele that frequents the Bayside during Vicki’s shift are mostly pimps, players, and prostitutes. But what really makes things interesting is when the occasional family comes to stay the night. They are usually out-of-towner husband, wife, and x amount of kids just trying to save a few bucks.

Joe Schmo Cheap-O, Sally Homemaker, Bobby Badass and Cute Kelly have probably come to the city on Vacation. They have driven all day from smalltown up north and this is their chance for some fun in the sun. By the time they’ve made it to this sleepy beach town, they are tired and hungry. If this is not the first place they’ve stopped for the night, it is at least the most reasonable in price and appearance along the road of seedy hotels and seedier motels.

They come in around midnight, which means that Vicki has been working for two hours. Time has been dragging, as it usually does at the beginning of her shift. Aside for a couple of the night workers and the men who will be employing them, it has been a slow night. Tonight’s Joe and Sally are actually Ronald and Marie Roberson. They do happen to have what looks like a Bobby Badass, but a Cute Kelly is nowhere to be found. Vicki internally laments their inability to maintain her picture of familial perfection. “I bet they cheaped out on the picket fence and the dog too,” she thinks to herself.

 

As they walk closer, Vicki prepares her, “yes, I am awake and happy to be here” look and forces her mouth to say the cheesy company greeting, “hello my friend, welcome to the Bayside Inn.” Ron is the first to speak, “thank you young lady, that was a rather nice greeting,” he says. And then after a quick thought he decides to add a cheesy line of his own, “It’s great to make a new friend at the Bayside Inn.” He hears his son groan and watches as Vicki makes an effort to nod and smile politely.

Marie is outwardly agreeing with her husband’s decision, but privately, she has no desire to spend the night at Bayside. At this moment, she is actually having flashbacks of when she was younger, thinner, sexier. As usual, this also leads to her briefly thinking about all of the potentially more successful men that she had the chance to be with once upon a time. But eventually, she snaps back to reality and remembers that in the end, Brad the hot tempered “high school football star,” Steven with a ph instead of a v, “the Vicodin addicted pre-med major,” and Austin, “the compulsive liar (you guessed it) lawyer,” were ultimately all assholes, and that Joe was a great guy who she dearly loved. She also reminds herself that their love had brought them through many tough times and that one night at a cheap motel would be more than bearable. As she finally snaps out of her introspectively reminiscent state of mind, she looks up at Vicki and gives her a weak smile. She then turns to Ron and says, “Honey, make sure you get the current room rates.”

Vicki has already anticipated this question and before Ron can ask, her muscle memory of many a night shift come-and-gone kicks in. She points up at the sign positioned above her head. It reads, One Bedroom 60 dollars a night, Two Bedroom 75 dollars a night. Ron briefly scans the sign and then reaches for his wallet. As he slightly struggles to pull out his credit card, he sees that the center area that is usually reserved for cash is empty. In the place of cash, there are various scraps of paper. These include receipts, coupons, and a bank statement from the ATM that reminds Ron why he and his family will have to spend the night at Bayside.

 

He hands his credit card over to Vicki, while mentally categorizing her as an unenthusiastic girl who should be happy to have limited responsibilities, her health, youth, and a job. As she runs his card, Ron does the broke man’s “lord, don’t let it get rejected” silent mental prayer. In that moment, just as his wife did, he too begins to reminisce.

 

He starts thinking about the career path he might have had if Marie had not gotten pregnant. He’s thinking back to when he was younger, stronger, with more hair on his head and less hair on his gut. He thinks about some of the women he used to chase. The type of girls with big tits, slim waists, nice asses and loose morals. He remembers his old college girlfriend, the girl he met before Sally, Alexis. Wild and crazy times to say the least. But then he remembers that Alexis was kinda slutty, those other women were incredibly slutty, and that he’s grateful that fate stepped in and helped him settle down with a more virtuous women. Not saying that in the early days Sally was a Mother Theresa. But after they got more serious, he would often think to himself that she was the only woman he could ever really see himself settling down with. Although neither one of them thought that his secret self-musing would become reality as quickly as it did.

 

As for Bobby the bad ass, the Roberson lovechild, who is actually named James; he thinks his parents are insane. Crazy in general and even crazier still to pull into a place like this. He recognizes the fact that it is late and that they are running low on patience, food, and gas. But in his opinion, this does not warrant a stop at the “sleaze-side” Inn. He hates that his Dad is always so cheap and that his mother has no backbone to ever argue with his father. His mother’s inability to question his father’s decisions always leads to the necessity of James speaking out. This then earns him his parents’, “what happened to little baby Jimmy” looks. But whatever, James reasoned a while ago that someone had to speak out against some of his father’s decisions. If his mother wouldn’t do it, he would.

 

However, in this instance, James is too late. The room has already been paid for and his father is now reaching for the room key. Ron knew that he could use the extra 15 dollars and he really did put some thought into the possibility of making the one bedroom vacancy work. He planned to let his wife sleep on the bed, his son– the floor, and he would sleep on a chair. But then he thought about it and realized that even in his mind, this would constitute as one of those times when James would be right to say, “Dad, you’re pushing it.” So he got the 75 dollar two bedroom. He would share a bed with his wife and James would get the second bed to himself.

Victoria hands the room keys over to Ron, and as she does so, she notices the look of disgust on James’ face, the look of resolve on Marie’s face and what she thinks is a slight look of shame behind Ron’s corny smile. As they turn to walk back outside and up the stairs to their room, she remembers that tonight the “less than picturesque” family will be sleeping next door to what is usually Bayside’s most active room.

They will be in room 68. Right next to the room frequented by a pimp named Lawrence and his customers. In a motel that has thin walls. Victoria tries to give the Robersons a genuine smile as they turn to leave. It is a smile that comes from pity, but she hopes that this smile conveys a “I feel bad for ya homie” type of message. If she knew these people better she probably would have made more of an effort to switch their room, or she would have at least spoken her message out loud, but its too late for that. And Victoria, like most other people, doesn’t live in the magical land of hypotheticals turned reality.

 

An hour passes and Victoria figures that the Robersons are probably settled in for the night. What they don’t know is that Lawrence will be coming by around 2 am and they will be in for a rude awakening. Lawrence is a regular that comes in at least three times a week. Due to his frequent visits, Victoria has jokingly nicknamed his usual room: “Lawrence’s Love Suite.” Lawrence usually comes to drop off the girl who’s actively working that night, and the man that will be working her. He pays for the room, flirts with Victoria, and then takes his guests to their room for the next two hours. Although he pays full price for a room that will be available all night, the occupants will each only spend one to two hours there. In Lawrence’s field of employment the phrase “time is money” has a very real tangible meaning. On what would be considered a decent night, Lawrence is in and out of the Bayside Inn lobby 3-4 times. On a great night, he is there 5-6 times. But on what he calls his slow nights, he may only be there once or twice. On those nights, Lawrence usually comments that, “ho money, can be slow money, but its sure money.” With his southern drawl, the word sure ends up sounding more like “sho.”

Lawrence Bryce Johnson was born in a small town near Baton Rouge, Louisiana. His father was a preacher at Walker Street Baptist church, and his mother was a nurse at Coston General Hospital. He was the youngest of six, three boys and three girls. His older sisters were named Ruth, Dianne, and Carol, and his brothers were named Jacob and Noah. He knew his parents were different than those of his friends. Mom made sure they washed their hands for exactly ten minutes before each meal, and Dad had them reciting bible verses at the dinner table. His siblings had no problem following their fathers’, “God’s way or the highway” mentality, and the “cleanliness is next to Godliness” regiment of his slightly OCD mother. But for Lawrence, his home life had always seemed suffocating.

From a very early age, he was the free spirit of the family. And though they tried yelling, threats, spankings, groundings, and other tactics, nothing ever worked. All of those things that his parents called “the evils of the world,” like secular music, cheeseburgers, television, chocolate bars; in addition to sex and drugs. Well, they were the things that Lawrence wanted to experience the most in the world. At eighteen years old, “Lawless Lawrence,” as his father used to call him, got himself kicked out his home and he never looked back.

 

Lawrence, the lady of the night, and their first customer come into the motel lobby at exactly 2 am. In Lawrence’s unpredictable and rather shifty business, his punctuality was something that never wavered. Victoria had often thought to herself that if for some strange reason the world’s clocks got screwed up, people should just find a pimp like Lawrence. For her, his frequent 2 am visits was like having an alarm clock set to Pimp Precision. He pimp strolls in, gives Victoria a smile that has actual sincerity to it, and then greets her with his usual “what’s the haps lil darlin’?” She would never admit it to his face, but Lawrence was actually a rather charming guy. She had not met an astounding amount of pimps but after interacting with the few that she did know, she’d reasoned that “charm” was a necessity of the job.

 

“Nothing much, just chillin,” she replies back to Lawrence. “So LJ, how’s business treating you, what type of night do you think it’ll be?” Lawrence pauses and looks back at the woman and man that he has just brought in with him. “Well Vicki sweetie, as of right now, I’m not real sure, but I’m hoping to have a decent one” he responds.

Vicki notices the dead fish eyes of Lawrence’s new girl. She is probably high on drugs, drunk, or most likely feeling a combination of the two. She’s dressed in a silver dress that hugs her slim body tight and accentuates what curves are left on her body. She is young but you can tell from looking at her that she’s lived a hard life, a lifestyle that has mentally aged her well beyond her years. Her hair is a dirty blonde bushy mess. She is wearing cheap jewelry and shoes. And heavy makeup is doing its best to hide the dark circles under her eyes, acne scars, and burn marks of a woman who is familiar with a crack pipe.

 

Vicki notes that the “customer” is also high on the list of less than superior human specimens. Lawrence said his name was Bob, but the man was probably as much a Bob as Victoria was a Laquanda. He looks to be in his mid thirties. His stomach would make any expectant mother feel happier about her self-image. Thick red glasses accentuate his beady darting eyes. And his comb over does little to hide the fact that his hair seems to be running away from the center of his head. As for his attire, it is the latest in the garage sale collection. Blue jeans that have taken the brand “faded glory” to their most extreme literal definition, and a t-shirt that is a color Victoria has decided to name “crite,” a mixture of cream and white. But nothing stands out more than the look of desperate anticipation on his sweaty face.

 

Lawrence pays for the room and his companions turn to walk out of the door. As it swings shut behind them, he turns to Vicki and gives her his usual speech. “You know baby,” he starts. “It’s really the oldest profession in the world. People need to fuck, and I’m just trying to make a buck.” Lawrence’s speech pattern always reminded Vicki of a mixture of the late Johnny Cochran, and Rev. Al Sharpton. If she’d known about his familial upbringing, the irony would have shocked her. “Yeah Lawrence, I get it,” she says. “But aren’t there other ways to make money?” she asks. “You could, I don’t know... work in an office, be a car salesman, you know, something like that.” Lawrence takes this moment for his dramatic pause, he gets a faraway look in his eyes and seems to be considering Victoria’s proposition. Then he looks her straight in the face, gives her a huge grin, and delivers his favorite line, “Awww sweetie, that 9-5 stuff is sucka shit.” “No offense to you little darling, but what you need to do is drop that job you got and come get with me, and make some real money,” he teases. But that was part of their usual banter. She would chastise him for his line of work, and he would make feeble attempts to recruit her.

“Naw homeboy, if I worked for you, I’d be the one pimping you out!” Victoria replies. Although they both participated in their friendly quid pro quo, it was always strictly just a game.

Unbeknownst to her, Victoria had a strong resemblance, and therefore reminded him of his sister, Ruth. While, Lawrence did consider himself to be somewhat of a scoundrel, there were just some lines that even he would not cross.

 

Truthfully, there were some days that he longed to leave the pimping game behind. Settle down, doing something else, and living somewhere else. Once, he’d even started saving a small stash of money to do just that. Then the girl who he’d considered his “bottom bitch” left town, and his money disappeared with her. Lawrence has told Victoria this story numerous times, and he always ends it the same way, “That’s why its always Benjamin’s over Bitches!”

 

Ron woke to what one could describe as the sound of cracked out midgets enjoying a late night jumping contest. But of course, that would be highly illogical, and it is probably hard to determine the winner of a jumping contest, if all the participants are on drugs. Although, one of the fun parts is knowing that the phrase “I can get higher than you can” takes on new meaning in the context of that situation. These are the kind of thoughts that race through the mind of a man woken up at 2:30 in the morning. His instinct knows that the sound coming from next door is sex, but his sleep-deprived mind calls it a midget jumping contest. Shortly after Ron awakes, his wife and son soon follow. “What’s that sound dad?” asks James. Ron begins to start mumbling about the midgets but catches himself. “Um, that, uh well...I don’t know” Ron replies. “That was a great answer,” Marie sarcastically whispers to Ron. That’s when the talking starts. “Oh baby, that’s right, yeah, right there!” says a male voice through the wall.

 

What started off as louder than usual whispering has now turned into grunting, panting, and the issuing of the occasional directional cue. Hailey can feel the Brillo Pad-like hairs of the man’s chest as she rides him in a manner that she hopes will make him cum the quickest. This is the part that she hates the most, the gradual descent back to reality. She feels the effects of the drugs and alcohol start to leave her body. All the pretty colors are disappearing, and she starts to notice how dark the room truly is. She begins to feel the heat of the room, the cardboard texture of the bed sheets, and the full weight of the body that is clumsily slamming into her. Her high is now being replaced by anger, self-pity, and loathing. She thinks back to a life that has mostly been full of disappointment. A father that was never home, an alcoholic for a mother, and an uncle that should have known to keep his hands to himself. “Fuck this shit!” she screams out in an outburst of rage. “Oh you know it baby,” the man on top of her replies. “I’m gonna fuck it good for you.” Despite the situation, she can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh hell Ron, it’s getting louder,” Marie angrily whispered to her husband. “Are you just gonna keep pretending this isn’t happening? Go do something. Knock on the door, go talk to the girl at the front desk, JUST DO SOMETHING!” Ron contemplates his best plan of action. Considering the fact that he himself would hate being interrupted mid coitus, and that he does not know if the man next door is a psycho killer, he decides to go back to the motel lobby.

 

Victoria sits behind the counter watching the clock and listening to Lawrence finish up one of his “tales of the pimp life.” “So we at the dock right, and I tell this chick, ‘you got two options. Pay me or find out if them big ass titties you paid for can help you stay afloat’. And you know what this hoe tells me?” Lawrence asks Vicki, using suspense like a master storyteller. “What did she...” Before Vicki can finish her sentence, Ron walks in. “Um excuse me, miss,” he begins. “Oh, and excuse me...uh...sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation but I’m having some trouble with my room. Well, really it’s the room next to me.” “What seems to be the problem?” Vicki asks in a voice that does little to hide the fact that she knows all too well, and with a face that does little to hide her amusement. “Yeah, guy, what’s your problem?” Lawrence echoes Vicki.

 

“Man, oh man, I’m doing great,” Richard thinks to himself. “Buying those cheap online Viagra pills was a great idea. My dick’s the bat, and baby I’m hittin nothing but homers tonight.” For him, this girl is not just a prostitute, she is a way of reclaiming his manhood. He feels the adrenaline racing through his veins, his breathing is coming out in huffs, and it feels like his heart is beating faster than it ever has. But he is determined to go the distance. Tonight, he is proving to the ex-wife that left him for the handsome doctor, that he too can fuck like a stallion. Tonight was the one-year anniversary of their divorce, but for Richard, the pain and humiliation was still as vivid as the day she left. It was a bitter surprise, but deep down inside he’d always known she was out of his league.

 

Carmen was a drop dead gorgeous 19-year-old girl when they first met. She had come to this country from Ecuador and although her English was not that great, she was a fast learner. Her car had broken down on the side of the road and he had the good fortune of being the tow truck man sent to pick her up. He couldn’t speak the language that well, but after years of being around his grandpa Enrique, he could definitely understand it. Even then, he wasn’t exactly what someone would call “a catch.” He was 28 years old, he’d only had a high school education, and he still lived with his grandparents. Nevertheless, being the sole survivor of a crash that killed his parents had taught him to better appreciate all aspects of life, even its shortcomings.

 

He started thanking Jesus and the holy mother Mary when he first laid eyes on her. She was 5’4 with a light tan complexion and long dark brown hair. She was wearing shorts and a tank top to accommodate the summer heat. Her face was filled with relief as he walked up to her. As he came nearer, she even began to smile. She was beauty personified. He was not a very poetic man, but at that moment he wished he could compose sonnets in her honor. “Hola,” he said with what he hoped was his best Spanish accent, “Que Pasa?” Carmen began answering him in rapid fire Spanish. She told him that she’d just bought this used car; it had been running great for about a week but that morning it started to make weird noises. She hadn’t known what to do so she just drove it. She was able to make it to work but on her drive home the thing gave out on her. “Comprende...?” She asked Richard. Although it had all come out so fast, he’d made sure to listen closely and was happy to have caught most of it. “Si,” Richard replied.

 

On their ride to her house, they chatted about their lives. Carmen did most of the talking, but Richard was happy to just listen. Although she thought her English was bad, he thought her voice was beautiful, and he loved her accent. She told him that she was a student at the local community college. Her English was not that great, but she worked hard to get good grades, and was determined to one day be a nurse. He told her that he was currently working full time but he hoped to go to mechanic’s school and then to eventually own his own shop. Time passed quickly and they were soon near her house. Richard had felt at ease in the presence of the beautiful young woman and decided that he would muster up the courage to ask for her phone number.

 

As he pulled into her driveway, he noticed her face start to change. As the car stopped and Richard reached for his billing sheet, she finally revealed what was bothering her. “I’m sorry, I should have tell you before. But I do not have many money Richard,” Carmen said. “Her eyes looked innocent and sad, a puppy dog like quality for sure. Richard looked into those eyes and felt his heart breaking in sadness for the young woman. He paid her towing charge that night and most likely out of gratitude, Carmen gave him her number. They dated for three months and at the urging of her struggling family, Carmen married Richard. There were some things that she liked about him. He was honest, self-sacrificing, and he made her laugh. Richard loved everything about her. He put his ambitions aside and worked hard to put Carmen through school.

 

He was the loudest person in the room at her graduation. She was quickly able to find work, and Richard thought that the couple could now discuss plans for expanding their family. When the recession hit, Richard was laid off and Carmen was now the sole breadwinner in the family. Richard thought that this might be a good time for him to attend mechanic school, but Carmen thought differently. They argued about money, they argued about the son that Richard wanted, and they argued about the longer and longer hours that Carmen was spending away from the house. On the day she told Richard, “My nights off are my business,” he knew things wouldn’t last much longer. He followed her to the hotel room the next night. An unmistakable accented English voice could be heard as he pressed his ear to the door. “Ayy Dios mio. Yes baby, fuck me like that. Yes, that’s how I need it. Oh no babe, he can’t do it like you can. Fuck me good.” Carmen had managed to break his heart all over again.

 

“Listen here pal,” Ron starts. “I’m talking to her, this doesn’t concern you.” “Oh really?” Lawrence replies. Vicki is not sure what is about to happen, but she knows it has the makings of somewhat potentially very entertaining. If she were not working, she probably would have let the two guys fight, but of course that would be bad for business. She moves for the first time in hours, placing herself in between the two men. “Mothafucka, if you got a problem with the activities going on in the room next door to you, well then sucka, you got a problem with me!” Lawrence informs Ron. Victoria is sandwich between them and doing her best to hold them apart. Three heads turn in unison as a loud scream comes from upstairs. It does not sound like a scream of pleasure. As they look out the glass door, a figure runs out of the room 69, with only a blanket wrapped around its frail body. It is moving quickly toward the lobby.

 

Ron’s family has also emerged from their room and they too are making their way toward the lobby. They all burst through the lobby doors at the same time, but Hailey is the first to speak. “He’s dead LJ!” she screams. He’s fucking dead!”

 

The paramedics finally arrived a couple of hours later. It was late, and the guy was already dead when the call came in, so they were not in a particularly “lets hurry” mode. With the addition of the two Hispanic paramedics and their Asian driver, Bayside became the perfect setting for a “we are the world” video. While examining Richard upstairs, a technicality to confirm his death, the medics found an empty pill bottle in his pocket. The label said Viagra, but the name on the prescription was for another man.

 

And there they stood. An amalgam of everything this country is made of. The young, the old, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, male, female. And Victoria was getting a repressed homosexuality vibe from one of the medics, so yeah, the gays were represented too. All at Bayside, brought together by tragedy. But isn’t that how it usually goes?

 

“What the fuck kind of motel is this?!” yelled Ron. “This is just too much,” Marie chimed in. James stood in the corner trying hard to stifle his laughter.

 

“Aww fuck, that fat motherfucker, he just had to die. Fuck!” Lawrence whispered under his breath. “What we gonna do LJ?” asked Hailey. “We?! I didn’t kill that dude. I don’t know what ‘we’ gonna do. But I do know what I’m gonna do. For right now though, just stay calm ho, stay calm,” Lawrence advised Hailey.

 

When the paramedics came back down to the lobby, they were wheeling Richard’s dead body with them. As they entered the room, Ron and his wife were furiously demanding a refund. James had a smug “I told you so” look on his half awake/half asleep face, and Lawrence and Hailey were in the corner quietly plotting their escape.

 

Victoria thought about the ridiculousness of the scene laid out before her. “A vacationing family, a pimp and prostitute, the paramedics, and a dead man come into a motel lobby...” The punch line wouldn’t even need to be that great. Although on the plus side, Bayside had never had so many people there at one time. In any other circumstance, this would have been a great night for business.

 

“I think that’s how I’ll start off,” she thought to herself as she dialed the number for the motel owner. The phone rang a couple of times before a man’s voice mumbled a gruff hello into the receiver.

 

“Hello Allen? Yeah, it’s Vicki. So guess what, the motels full of people tonight...”