"We've only got one room." The curmudgeonly old lady behind the counter at the motel reeked of perfume and cigarettes. Not to mention the motel lobby itself was beyond shabby. The motel was a skip and a jump from being condemned. Dusty, peeling wallpaper, mold in the corners, a chipped linoleum floor. The old lady behind the counter had a smile that showed only one row of yellow teeth. She sat at her post with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, strands of hair coming out of her gray bun, her makeup slathered on to hide the wrinkles.

"Well, we need two," Ken told her firmly.

Clearly, he didn't want to share a room with Nicky either. Nicky was in agreement with him there. They'd been coworkers for a short period of time, but they'd never gotten along or worked one-on-one. Sharing a room sounded beyond awkward.

"Well, too bad," the lady said. "That's all we've got."

Ken's brow arched. "And what if we refuse to pay for one room and decide to find a different motel?"

The lady laughed. "You can stay out there all night for all I care." She pulled out the pack of cigarettes from her breast pocket and lit another one, sucking in a deep breath.

Nicky glanced over at Ken and sighed. She didnt want to share a room either, but this was her job and she needed to be professional. It wasnt like theyd have to sleep in the same bedNicky could crash on the floor if she had to.

"We'll take it," Nicky said. "We'll just share."

Ken's brow arched. "Really?"

"We'll just be sleeping," Nicky said, "I promise I won't kill you in your sleep. There has to be a couch or something."

"I think it's got a futon," the lady grumbled.

Nicky and Ken exchanged a look, then they stepped aside and waited for the lady to pull out their room key.

"Room 214," she said, sliding the key across the counter. "I hope you two enjoy yourselves." She winked. "And don't forget to bring me back a souvenir."

The key was just a plain old piece of plastic with a number on it. Nicky and Ken then grabbed their bags and headed for the stairs, which led to the second floor. Nicky felt a chill as she walked up the stairs, staring at the threadbare carpeting that stuck to her feet.

"A futon?" Ken asked as they walked into the room. It was just as shabby as the lobby, if not worse, with lace curtains that hung from the window, a chipping laminate countertop, and a stained carpet.

"Well," Nicky said, "it'll save us a bit of money."

Ken placed his bag on the bed, which was just a mattress laid on the floor, and leaned against the wall. "It's safer this way," he said. "If anything happens, we'll know. You take the bed."