What You See in the Dark - Manuel Munoz [51]
“Why not?” said the Director, even though the driveway was quite close to the front office. The driveway was level with the road, rather than sloped downward as at the other motels, and though the parking lot looked tight, there was plenty of space for larger trucks. Two long buildings sat at V-shaped angles to each other, facing the traffic, a front porch running along the entire length of each facade, the windows of each room with curtains pulled back to let in the light. In the gap between the buildings, a glimpse of two more units facing the other direction, away from the road, quiet.
“This one is perfect,” said the Actress with assurance.
The Director stayed silent, but he was clearly taking it in. Carter idled for a moment before the Actress nodded at him slightly to put the car in park and cut the engine. When the motor shuddered quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional passing car, the Actress knew she’d picked the right one.
“I do hope the photographer spotted this one,” the Director said. “You’ve got a good eye.”
Over to the side, from a small house with its facade angled toward the motel buildings, a screen door swung open, and a woman stood on the steps looking at them for a moment before starting down to greet them.
“Driver, we should probably get along and not bother this woman,” said the Director.
“That’s awfully rude,” said the Actress when Carter turned on the engine. “We can politely tell her we’re leaving. She’s making her way down here.”
“You have a good eye,” said the Director, “but I can see you’ve never had to deal with people.”
“Cut the engine, Carter,” said the Actress, rolling down the window. She stopped midway when she got a look at the woman coming toward her. Was it the color of the woman’s waitress uniform? Or was it the way the woman looked back at her, a slight hesitation in her step at the recognition, even though the window was rolled down only halfway. She could not, the Actress knew, stay half-hidden, and so she continued turning the handle until the woman could see clearly into the car.
There was a point when the woman knew exactly who the Actress was, and she stopped almost midstride, close enough to the car to speak without having to raise her voice.
“You … ,” the woman said.
The Director leaned in to the Actress to whisper as low as he could. “You know this woman?”
“Good evening,” the Actress said, but her words came out with a nervousness she did not intend, and she could see the woman bend down a little to see who else was in the car. She seemed a bit taken aback when she saw the Director in the backseat.
“You’re movie people … ,” the woman said.
“Yes,” said the Actress. “You see, we’re in Bakersfield scouting sites for a new film …”
“I asked you in the café if you … ,” said the woman, shaking her head. “You lied to me.”
“I apologize for that. I really do,” said the Actress. “It’s something I must do, just to be in public.”
The woman folded her arms. Though she stood a bit away from the car, there was no mistaking that she was small framed, her thin brown hair pulled tight in a bun, her eyes souring at them in distrust, her mouth pursing downward. “Do you know you had all those young girls riled up? I’ll look like an old schoolmarm for telling them to hush up about you.”
“I really do apologize. I hope you understand.”
“What is it you’re doing out here?” the woman asked. “On my property.”
“Well, we’re scouting sites for a motel—for the film—and this looks like a superior location, compared to the others we’ve seen in the area.”
The woman leaned a bit to take a look at the Director, but the Actress could feel him settling back in his seat, as if he didn’t want to speak at all. The woman glanced at the driver, her uncertainty and suspicion only deepening.
“Let her know we compensate,” the Director whispered.
“We’d pay you a bit,” said the Actress. “Just to look at the rooms and the layout. Take a few pictures. We can send someone out tomorrow.”
The woman made as if to go back to the house, dropping her arms from her body, shaking her