King's Creek

Ain't nobody ever comes to visit King's Creek. Ain't nothin' to see here. Nothin' to do.

Don't know why they named the place after royalty. Ain't nothing royal about the people livin' here. Ain't nobody important. Drunk teenagers, unsupervised children. Sometimes those old biker men ride into town and stop at the old gas station for a fill up. But ain't nobody interested in staying.

Some of us have no choice but to live the life we've been given. A life in King's Creek. I've got a house, one with a half-fenced backyard where the mutts roam freely. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes I find them sleepin' with the homeless man on the corner.

Ain't got no kids. No responsibilities. Work at Snoopy's Kittens on the weekends, but free on weekdays.

Tuesday, I think it was, when that stranger strolled into town. I say strolled because he ain't have no car, no bike. Just walked right in and rented a room at the motel. No bags. No nothin'.

Strange, I thought, but I ain't paid no mind. I learnt my lesson 'bout putting my nose where it don't belong. Now I like stayin' outta trouble.

But there was somethin' 'bout that man.

Hadn't seen someone handsome like that since Maurine's husband passed. Green eyes pulled you in, a low voice. Always dressed from head to tow in black. Wearin' a tie, not a bow tie. The handsomest man this town's ever seen. That's the truth, and made of money. He bought Maurine a house, a car, and any jewelry she wanted. Lucky woman.

So I couldn’t resist. I squeezed into my best pair of blue jeans, the ones without any rips, and walked to that old motel. Room 108.

I hit the door a few times and waited. Kicked at rocks on the sidewalk. No answer. I'd have to try again later.

Might as well talk to someone while I'm out and about. The trash can propped the office door open, so I slipped inside. Maurine sat behind the desk, hair curled, glistenin’ beneath yellow light. "What're you hangin' 'round the motel for?"

"Thought I'd pop in and say hi."

"Well, you've said hi, so now what?"

My arm on the counter next to a vase of wilted tulips. "How's the day been? Busy? Heard a rumor we got a visitor in town."

"You're here to talk about that?" She hit the desk, rolled her eyes. Always dramatic, Maurine. "Everybody's been poppin' in, askin' 'bout that strange man who wandered into town."

"Can't blame 'em. Not everyday Prince Charming wanders away from the kingdom and into King's Creek."

"You want to know his name?"

"Sure do."

"Last I heard, he's at Cary's Place. Why don't you ask'm yourself?"

"I might. Thanks, Maurine."

That woman always had a crooked yellow smile. "Stay away from my motel, troublemaker."

I waved like I always do, walkin' out the door. "You'll never see my face again."

Cary's Place was 'round the corner, not too far a walk from the motel. Next to strip clubs and dark alleyways where they sell the good stuff. But I wasn’t looking for trash. That night, I was lookin' for royalty.

And I found'm. Sittin' at the bar with a glass of bourbon sweatin' in his hand. A strong hand, looked like it. Smilin' at the pretty waitress. Patty, I think her name was.

"Hello, stranger. Never seen your face before."

Green eyes looked up at me. Swear they sparkled when he smiled. A straight, white Hollywood smile. What was someone like him doin' all the way out here in King's Creek?

"People have been staring all day.” 

"That ain’t surprisin’. Patty, fix me a beer, will you? And another for the new kid in town."

"Pass.” That gorgeous man stood, waved one of those strong hands. “I drank enough.” 

“One more won’t hurt, right?” 

Patty served the drinks, “Enjoy.” 

“Let me ask you somethin’. Where’d you come from?” He sat on the stool and sipped the drink. “Up north? I hear they’ve got people like you up there.” 

“People like me?” 

“Rich folk. Sell that jacket, and you could buy a car, right?”

That smile nearly knocked me off my seat. “Three cars.” 

“Three? Wow. I’m shiverin’. Mind if I borrow that jacket?”

Off one arm, then the other. That beautiful man held the two button navy coat and passed it into my hands. “Don’t mind at all. You can have it.” 

“I don’t have a car.” I shoved my arms into the sleeves. “Might buy three now.” 

“If that’s what you want to do, then do it.” 

“You’re a strange one. What’re you doin' wanderin' ‘round town in a fancy suit? Tryin’a get robbed?” 

He leaned his head back, takin’ a big swig of his drink. “I’m looking for someone.” 

“That don’t explain why you wandered into town with nothin'. Not one suitcase. You ain’t packed a change of clothes?” 

“My car broke down near the town line.” 

“I bet you drive a Chevy.” I twisted my shoulders a bit, sipped my drink, glanced over the rim of the glass. “Who you lookin’ for?” 

“Family.” 

“Know any names?” I asked, battin’ my long eyelashes. Momma always said they’d catch a man quicker than any venus fly trap could catch a fly. “I know everybody.” 

Leaned forward, he said, “I’m looking for the woman who killed my brother.” 

I couldn't tell if he was jokin', but I played along either way. “What do you plan on doin’ when you find her?” 

“I’m gonna have a conversation.” He didn’t show me teeth when he smiled. He stood, placed a fifty dollar bill on the counter for Patty. Not gonna lie, I thought 'bout snatchin' it.

“You ain’t gonna tell me your name?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow night at dinner.” 

“Where’re you taking me? Somewhere fancy, I hope.” 

He chuckled to himself, lightin’ a cigarette and holdin’ it between his two fingers. “The cafe.” 

“Tomorrow’s meatloaf night. How romantic.” 

“Six o’clock.” 

“I’ll be waitin’. Don’t be late.”  

I watched him leave, of course. Snugglin’ in his fancy jacket, I looked at Patty when the door swung shut behind him. “He told you his name?” 

“He never said.” 

Ain’t killed anybody, so I didn’t have a worry in the world as I walked back to my house. I fed the stray dogs a treat then snuggled into bed, still wrapped in the stranger’s jacket. That was the most interesting conversation I’d had in years. Ain’t used to pretty boys flirtin’. 

So that next evening at six o’clock, I sat at the cafe waitin’ for that handsome stranger to walk through the door. With every ring of a bell, I turned my head, but he never showed. Thirty minutes, and I couldn’t wait any longer. 

I walked to that old motel. Banged my fist against the door of room 108. Nobody answered. 

I slipped into the office and screamed. Maurine’s lifeless body laying across molding floorboards. 

But I know to keep my nose outta other people's business, so I walked away.