Blue Coyote Motel (25 page)

Hiring Jim had been a stroke of luck. He turned out to be far better than they could have asked for, giving them great advice and showing them numerous ways they could save money on the remodeling project. Probably the best part was that because he was such a perfectionist, nothing had been done in a haphazard manner. He had been a class act from start to finish. Who would have thought they would have found a contractor like him in Blythe?

After they finished the walkthrough, they went back to the office where Maria happily wrote a check to Jim for the remainder of the work he had done. He had been worth every cent.

One last thing remained to be done. Jim finished the final wiring needed on the highway sign and tested the neon lights. It was perfect. The words "Blue Coyote Motel" glowed brightly, a beacon for weary travelers. With the lights on, the motel was officially open. Maria and Jeffrey high-fived each other and went into the office where the phone and computer were now up and running. There was nothing to do but wait for their first guests.

CHAPTER 27

The past few months had gone by quickly for Doug. They had been very good months. Even though the recent past had been ideal in many ways, he still occasionally would have a flashback of the person he used to be; a loser, broke, fat, smoking, drinking too much and visiting prostitutes. When the flashbacks ended, he would be bathed in sweat, his heart racing and vowing once again to do whatever it took to never become that person again.

He consistently was the top sales producer at Aravalve. Jack couldn't have been happier with his sales performance and had given him a much larger territory, the Western United States including Hawaii. He particularly liked the frequent trips to the San Francisco Bay Area and Hawaii. He had a generous expense account, which allowed him to eat at great restaurants, stay in hotels with beautiful surroundings, and take Lacy with him when she could get away. After his disastrous start with Aravalve, he never would have foreseen this new development in his life.

Doug had never been to Hawaii and he quickly fell under its spell. His sales calls took him mainly to the islands of Oahu, Maui, and Hawaii. While most of the tourists gravitated towards Maui and Oahu, he enjoyed the peacefulness of the island of Hawaii, or as it was called by the locals, the “Big Island.” It was a little sleepier, no nightlife to speak of and fewer tricked-out expensive resorts. He found the port town of Hilo to be especially charming. The farmer's market with its colorfully extravagant displays of Hawaiian flowers like plumeria, anthurium, and orchids delighted him. Doug loved the nearly empty beaches, lava formations, waterfalls, and the warmth of the Hawaiian people. He'd even gotten to like Spam, a favorite dish of the local island residents.

Doug became reliant on his daily workouts and runs to keep his energy up. His busy travel schedule and being "on" all the time for his customers was not easy, so staying in top physical shape was important to him. Everyone is motivated by something different. Doug was a goal-oriented person. Whether it was achieving a certain weight or a certain sales quota, he did much better when he knew the expectation. He decided that he needed to take on the challenge of a half-marathon and he began training in earnest for such an event.

He and Lacy had started living together in a townhouse on the south side of the 101 Freeway in Woodland Hills, located northwest of Los Angeles in the San Fernando Valley. Since moving in with Lacy, he had changed his eating habits and was feeling much better with this change in diet. A Southern California girl, Lacy had embraced vegetarianism at a young age and had eaten a meat-free diet ever since. She was an excellent cook, but if Doug wanted meat, he had to prepare it himself. Since she was such a good cook, he rarely felt the need. If he had a craving, he could always order it when he was on the road. He had been a fast food junkie all his life, but his body was responding very positively to his new eating habits. Weight kept coming off and he didn't feel the least bit deprived. It was amazing what Lacy could do with different grains, fruits, and vegetables.

They had fallen in love with the townhouse because of the view of the hills which separated the San Fernando Valley from the Pacific Ocean. To achieve his goal of running a half-marathon, Doug charted out a running schedule. The hills were filled with paths. He started with a walk-run combination and went on to a full run, usually five to seven miles, four mornings a week. After that, he would shower, eat some fruit and grains, and spend the rest of the day making sales calls.

He had run sporadically over the years, but nothing like he found himself doing now. Even when he was on the road, he stuck to his schedule. When Doug was in Hawaii, he always ran on the beach, just because he could. He loved how it made him feel. There was something about the sand on his feet, the light spray and sound of the surf, and the salty, clean smell of the ocean that made him feel fully alive, every sensory nerve in his body awakened.

Southern California weather made it the perfect place for marathons and half-marathons. Doug pulled up the half-marathon schedule for races in Southern California on his computer. He decided to start with one that was three months away. He had been running for several weeks and with three more months to train, he felt he'd be prepared. He spent the months training intensely for his race. As the date for the half-marathon neared, he knew he had done everything he could to prepare himself. He just hoped it was enough.

The half-marathon race day dawned bright and clear. It was early spring in Southern California and as usual, it was beautiful weather. He had chosen Santa Monica as his half-marathon site, a short drive from their home. He planned on leaving about 5:00 a.m., knowing at that time of day, on a Saturday, there would be very little traffic on the freeway, always a consideration. He arose at 4:00 a.m. and heated up some oatmeal then topped it with fruit. He wanted to get protein in his stomach before the 6:30 a.m. starting time and the natural sugar in the fruit would give him some energy as well.

Doug and Lacy pulled into the parking lot in Santa Monica where many of the runners were already doing stretches and sprints in preparation for the race. He made his way to the registration desk, filled out the information form, paid his entrance fee, and picked up a free T-shirt being handed out by the sponsors of the race. He did some stretches, drank some water, and got in place for the half-marathon.

Officially, a half-marathon is a little over thirteen miles, but to Doug it felt like ten times that amount. Although he had faithfully stuck to his training regime, he had never run that great a distance. He gritted it out. Three hours later, he crossed the finish line to the sound of Lacy screaming and yelling her support. She was jumping up and down with joy and pride. Relief flooded over him. He had done it; he had completed his first half-marathon. He was hungry, thirsty, and just plain exhausted. Then it began to dawn on him—he really had completed his first half-marathon. While it had seemed grueling while he was doing it, now he was already thinking about running a full marathon. He wondered if running a marathon was like childbirth; after it’s over you tend to forget the pain.

During the next few months, he entered more races and stuck to his training regime. He was in great shape. When he thought about it, he realized this had to be the best time of his life. The money was flowing in, he and Lacy were crazy in love, and he looked and felt great. Life seemed almost perfect.

Then a couple of flies landed in the ointment. One morning, he noticed a few grey hairs around his temples when he was shaving. It seemed a little premature. He was only thirty-four.

The second fly in the ointment regarded his relationship with Lacy. He loved her very much, but could sense she was beginning to get frustrated with him. Sometimes he just didn't feel like making love. She was hurt and couldn't understand why. Recently, Lacy had told him she thought he should see a doctor because he looked tired. She asked if he was worried about anything or if something was troubling him.

Doug didn't say anything, but lately he'd noticed that his sales had really slowed down. He'd started to miss his cigarettes. He seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for the early morning runs. He was bothered by chills, sweats, and occasional bouts of nausea although he didn't feel sick. Some mornings it was just easier to push the snooze button on the alarm clock, pull the covers over his head, and try for more sleep.

He knew he needed to call on some of his customers in Las Vegas, but whenever he went there, the constant noise of the casinos, the smoke-filled rooms, and the frenetic nature of the city exhausted him. He was feeling tired almost every day and the thought of going to Vegas did not really appeal to him. Even so, he decided he'd go a couple of days before the Memorial Day weekend, which would allow him to get back home and rest up over the three day holiday.

The Wednesday before Memorial Day, he flew into McCarran airport in Las Vegas. As soon as he landed and got off the plane, he could hear the incessant sound of the slot machines in the terminal and figured he'd better get used to it for the next couple of days. He went to the car rental kiosk the Aravalve sales personnel used and got a mid-size car. He was staying at the Venetian and it was just a short drive to the hotel.

Doug checked in and went to his room to make appointments for later that afternoon and Thursday. The Venetian was a "suite" hotel, which Doug preferred. He liked having some space in his room, as he often spent a lot of time doing paperwork. The room was great. It had a TV in the bedroom and in the bathroom. He'd be able to watch baseball in both of the rooms. Doug eyed the fully stocked refreshment center, craving a cold beer. It was a little too early and he had calls to make, but he decided he owed it to himself to have a couple of beers later on. Maybe that would make him feel better.

He set up his calls and went down to the hotel valet parking, got his car, and set out. The old spark just wasn't there. He couldn't seem to set the hook. No one wanted valves right now.
How had it been so easy only a few months ago?
he wondered. He drove back to the Venetian in the late afternoon, gave his car key to the valet attendant, and stopped at the first hotel bar he saw. The cold beer went down easy and the second was even better.
Well, what the hell,
he thought,
it's been a lousy day. I just hope tomorrow is better
. He quickly lost $20 to the electronic poker machine in front of him on the bar counter, ordered another beer and fed another $20 into the machine. After the third quick beer and down $40 he went up to his room, showered, and changed clothes.

The beer made him feel better. He decided to go to the sports lounge and bet on a couple of the baseball games that would soon be underway. The smoke was thick in the bar, making him want a cigarette even more.
Well
, he thought,
why
not
?
I
don't
know
anyone
here
and
I'll
quit
tomorrow
. He walked out of the sports bar and found the hotel convenience shop, which had all the necessities anyone in Las Vegas needed —condoms, beer, wine, cigarettes, and magazines in every language.

Doug lit up. The first pull on the cigarette almost made him sick. The next one was better. It was kind of like riding a bike. You never forgot how. It had been awhile since a pack of cigarettes had been in his shirt pocket. Actually, it felt pretty natural. He promised himself the beers and cigarettes were just for tonight. He knew he should call Lacy, but he decided to go back to the sports bar instead. He'd call her later.

He drank several more beers and, seeing some people next to him with an order of chicken wings and onion rings, decided to have those as well. The more beer he had, the better the cute little cocktail waitress looked. "Hey darlin'," he said, "When you get a minute, I'd like to order some food and another beer. What's your name? I always like to know the name of the person bringin' me my beer."

"My name's Britney. I'll be right back with your beer.” She gave Doug a big smile. Britney was dressed in a tight black corset, which pushed her ample breasts over the top. She wore black fishnet hose, high heels, and a very short skirt. She looked like she was farm-fed, fresh from Kansas, just one of the legions of young women who came to Vegas hoping to find a rich man, but instead, found themselves selling their bodies to make a living. The casinos and bars in Vegas swarmed with beautiful young girls like Britney. Sex sold well in Vegas.

When Britney brought his beer, she leaned over Doug, placing it on a napkin. He could smell her. All he wanted to do was run his hand over her breasts and touch her almost visible nipples with his fingers. God, he wanted her.
This is insane,
he thought to himself.
What in the hell am I doing?
What about my commitment to Lacy
?

"Britney," he said in a ragged voice, "what time do you get off work? I'd like to buy you a drink."

She gave him another one of her big smiles. She leaned over him once again, cleaning the ashtray on his table. He could feel her in his hands, feel her under him. Whatever the consequences, he had to have her.

"I'm off in an hour. Why don't we meet in your room? Management doesn't like us to have drinks with the customers in the lounge. What's your room number?" Britney asked.

"1461," Doug said. "I'll meet you there in an hour."

He ate his chicken wings and onion rings, ordered another beer, and decided to place one last bet. His baseball bets had been a disaster. He had dropped $500 in just a couple of hours. Doug decided to bet on a horse race instead in an attempt to recoup his losses. There was a long shot in the race, Commando II, that looked pretty good. It was the last race, so Doug bet $500. The horses were out of the gate and the announcer was screaming that Commando II was in the lead. Doug jumped out of his chair, his attention fully focused on the big screen showing the long shot ahead by several lengths. Doug knew his luck was turning. Commando II was going to make a bundle for him and he'd go back to California a big winner. As he watched the screen, he heard the announcer saying, "What's this? What's happened to Commando II? He's barely moving. This is unbelievable." Doug watched in horror as the rest of the horses ran past Commando II on their way to the finish line. The jockey finally got Commando II to slowly move to the finish line. He came in last.