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Behind the metal and glass cage that separated him from the six rain-soaked people standing in the lobby on the other side, the balding attendant’s mouth hung open a bit as ten one hundred-dollar bills was slowly pushed toward him.
He slipped on his glasses and licked his lips, setting down the television remote and picking up the money. As he thumbed through the bills, he noticed several grains of rice stuck to one of them, and the red smear of fresh blood across Franklin’s face on another. He glanced up nervously, over the wire-framed reading glasses perched down low on his nose, into the face of the man on the other side.
“I want to rent a suite. That should cover two months, right?” said Leon, pointing to the sign of posted rates on his side of the glass.
The old man returned his gaze to the money. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I just don’t want any trouble.”
Roy leaned forward, resting his chin on Leon’s shoulder, smiling. “Do we look like trouble?”
The man spun slightly on the creaky stool and grabbed a set of keys from the wall rack to his left. “You just surprised me is all. Most folks that come in here just want a room for a few hours or a day at most.”
He put a ring of two keys down on the counter and pulled up a ledger on his vid-screen. “What’s your name?”
Rainwater dripped from the man’s nose in tiny splashes on the counter as he replied. “Kowalski. Leon Kowalski.”
The attendant tapped the name into the touchscreen, keyed the room number and pressed enter, saving the registration. He slid the keys under the glass toward Leon. “I put you in #1187. Welcome to the Hunterwasser Towers.”
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