“Hey, Oliver,” I said to my cat as I tossed my keys into the bowl near my front door.

As usual, his tabby-ness responded with a meow and rub on my leg.

“Okay, buddy. Daddy’ll feed you. Hold your horses.”

I’d gotten home late after the final walkthrough of my new twenty room motel. Well, it’s not new, just remodeled a bit after I inherited it from my Uncle Jack.

I was his only family after my mom died the year before. Because of family politics, I hadn’t seen him since I was a teen and was surprised to be his only heir. We never spoke because of a falling out my parents had with him over who knows what, God knows when. They forbade any contact with him when I was a young boy, even though we lived in the same small town and less than a mile from each other.

I ran into him at the bait shop once when I was sixteen and told him I missed him and loved him. I think the old codger got some dust in his eye as he hugged me and told me he’d always be there if I needed him.

When I asked what happened between him and my parents, he simply shrugged and said, “Stupid shit only adults acting like children care about, kiddo.” He tussled my hair like he did when I was a little boy and winked before walking away. It was the last time I saw him.

HIs motel was on a lake and had a beach, which apparently made it worth a ton of money. I was coerced, I mean counseled, into investing some money into it to modernize the rooms by my attorney.

The numbers made sense to my financial advisor, so he thought it would be a great idea for his bank to give me a line of credit to finance the work.

Initially, I wasn’t thrilled about it and thought about just selling it, but it turned out great and under budget. If the books were legit, and I was assured they were, it would make a good profit.

When my mom died, I inherited a seven-figure estate. I had no idea she was a millionaire, apparently neither did my father. He tried to sue me for half of it after he found out about the money.

I never spoke much to my father after mom divorced him for cheating on her when I was just a child. He didn’t care much for the dad title anyway, nor for me.

I found out that Mom’s money came from my grandparents’ estate, and they died twenty years before her, which was three weeks after the divorce was final. Tough break for Pops.

As I watched my cat scarf down his dinner as if he’d never eat again, I decided I’d work the night shift at the motel. I needed something to do since I stalled in my attempt to write the next great must-read novel for soccer moms across the country.

Who would’ve thought every publisher in the country would think my lesbian book club orgy series wasn’t the next fifty shades? I mean, seriously, hot milf-tastic lesbian action in the form of a book club where they read steamy romance novels to get them in the mood, then lick each other to all the orgasms their husbands can’t or aren’t giving them?

I thought it was a winning idea. I envisioned porn parodies, a line of adult toys, and even softcore movies starring Scarlett Johanssen to bring in even more money. I guess that shit only works when a woman writes it.

I figured I’d use my downtime at the motel to rework my mommy-porn ideas. Maybe, with less male fantasies written into them. Well, maybe just less of my personal fantasies. Goodbye, Scarlett.

The motel already had a couple of maids, a part-time maintenance man and a couple of clerks who could work mornings, afternoons, and weekends. My uncle had lived in the motel and worked the graveyard shift. I’d mimic that, I just wouldn’t live there.

He had a nice apartment there, so I figured I’d just rent that out monthly, and stay in my lake front house, which was only a mile from the motel. It was a great plan.

The motel was located a couple of miles out of town, and a couple of miles away from the interstate, so a lot of my business was from locals and vacationers coming just for the beach and lake access.

I had a couple of run ins with some ladies of the night who wanted to have a revolving room door every night, but otherwise it was fairly peaceful.

On the sixth day after reopening, I had to cover for the evening clerk and had just come on desk duty when a man and woman approached the counter.

“A room for the night please,” he said and handed me his ID and credit card.

“Certainly, Mister Jacobs,” I said after looking at his ID. “Here’s your key to room 13 and please sign here.”

As he signed the old-fashioned registration book, which always made me think of Norman Bates and Psycho, I took in the sight of the pair of them and couldn’t help but imagine him as a philandering husband and her as his mistress.

He was tall and fat and pushing fifty. She was petite and young. A pretty blonde with huge breasts and well-tanned legs. Young enough to be his daughter, but old enough to be his evening snack.

I said, “Thank you, sir. The beach is open until sundown and the outdoor pool until midnight.”

He grunted his acknowledgement, and his companion gave me a sexy smile as they walked away.

“Yum,” I thought as I watched her heart-shaped ass sway away.

Thirty minutes later, a pretty lady with a handful of kids walked into the lobby.

“Did Don Jacobs check in yet?” She snapped, then looked down at my guest book.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that,” I answered and closed the book—too late.

She rolled her eyes and the diaper bag she held dropped, but the toddler she held did not fall.

“Jimmy!” She shouted as one of her brood skipped away toward the snack room.

“Aw, Mom,” he grumbled.

She looked frazzled as she set the toddler down.

“Stay right here, Donny,” she cooed. “Bella, please hold your brother’s hand.”

Little Bella smiled and took little Donny’s hand. She couldn’t have been more than four herself.

“I have my ID. Will that get me a key to our room? You can see what I’m dealing with here.”

She waved around to show me her wandering children. I had a bad feeling about it but decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. Looking back, I should’ve called his room. Lesson learned. No one would ever use that old guest book again.

“Okay,” I said.

I handed her a key to the room and didn’t like her almost evil grin.

“Thanks,” she said. “Come on, kids. Daddy’s taking you to the beach.”

A chorus of cheers erupted from the little ones as they scurried down the hallway. I did notice she didn’t say ‘taking us.’

I pulled up the video feed for the hallway and watched as she let them into the room and waited a few seconds outside the door.

For a few moments, nothing happened, but then the woman who checked in with Mister Jacobs ran from the room naked. Missus Jacobs followed throwing the young woman’s, who was not her daughter, clothes after her.

“You have to help me!” She yelled as she burst into the lobby. “That woman is a psycho.”

Yep. Motel. Norman Bates. Psycho. At least she wasn’t talking about me.

If it were a cable sitcom, I’d have been laughing, but the sexy naked woman trying desperately to cover her breasts and waxed pussy wasn’t funny. Sexy, but not funny. I feared a lawsuit was coming, and I hadn’t even been open for a week.

“Come around here. There’s an apartment over here behind the door. I’ll get your clothes for you.”

“Thank you,” she sighed as she hurried around the counter.

Thankfully, she didn’t cover her butt as she breezed by and into the room. Damn! It was even better naked.

“Have a great night,” Missus Jacobs chirped as she passed me in the hall and smacked my ass as I picked up articles of closing. She didn’t have her children with her.

I scooped up the clothes and noticed there were no panties. I hoped the girl knew that.

After the dust settled, Jacobs agreed not to sue me if I didn’t make him pay for the damage his wife did to the room. It was only a few hundred for a broken lamp and a hole in the wall, so I ate it and learned a valuable lesson about guest privacy.

A week later, a nice older lady I remembered from when she worked at the Post Office when I was a kid, walked up to my counter just as my shift was ending at seven in the morning.

“Do you rent rooms by the week?” She asked as sweet as if she were Betty White’s twin sister.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered with a smile. “You’re Miss Jane, aren’t you?”

“I am. You remember me?”

She looked me over as if trying to place me with perhaps a younger version of myself, or as if she were trying to shake the fog of old-age memory.

“Of course. You used to give me rubber bands when I was little.”

She smiled and said, “You must’ve been a good boy. I only gave them to good children. The bad ones would use them to shoot at dogs and squirrels you know.”

I laughed.

“I was okay. I’m Sally Chambers’ grandson, Andy Matthews.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I remember you, Andy. Sally was a friend. Her and Jack passing so young was a terrible tragedy.”

I nodded. Car accidents usually are.

She continued, “I was sad when your momma passed what? Last year or the year before? Anyway, she was a sweet one too.”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s missed.”

There was a moment of sad reflection between us, and she had the look of someone who’d lost more friends than she cared to think about, so I moved us on.

“So, you said you need a room for a week?”

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot why I came. It’s hell to get old, Andy. Enjoy your youth while you have it.”

Her giggle was infectious, and I admit brought me out of my reflective sadness.

“Is it all right if I rent a room for someone else? It’s for my granddaughter. She’s moving here and is having some kind of paperwork snafu with the apartment building. She’s had some trouble recently, and I don’t have a place for her to stay. My apartment is small and—”

“It’s no problem, Miss Jane. When is she coming?”

She said, “This coming Monday, but she might be here on Sunday if everything lines up right for her. Can I just come by when she checks in?”

“If you’d like. Otherwise, I can just take your credit card info now and use that when she checks in. That way if it’s late in the day or a day early, you won’t have to be bothered.”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she said with a relieved smile. “She doesn’t have a lot of money, Andy, and I don’t want her to pay for the room. You see, she’s a stubborn thing and would fight me about paying for her.”

“It’s no problem, Miss Jane” I said with a smile. “If you want, I can take her card information when she checks in and pretend as if I’m using it for the room.”

“Aren’t you a sweetie,” she said with a devilish grin. “How much will it be?”

I felt bad for the nice lady, so I figured I’d cut her a good deal off my normal rate.

“Seven hundred.”

“Oh, dear,” she said with a frown. An image of Betty White shaking her head popped into my mind.

“Well, that’s a couple hundred off my regular summer rate.”

I knew it was a dumb response. She looked as if I was breaking her heart.

I don’t know if it was because she reminded me of my Grandma Sally, Betty White, or if I was just in a good mood. I said, “I tell you what, I’ll let her stay in the apartment here where my uncle used to live. No charge.”

“Oh, Andy! I couldn’t do that.”

“Please, Ma’am. No one’s using it, and it’ll keep a regular room open for someone else who will pay the full fee. It’s quite nice and has its own kitchen and bathroom. I fixed it up to rent out for a tenant and just haven’t found one yet.”

“Well, I still don’t feel right taking advantage of you like that.”

“It’s fine, Miss Jane, really.”

“Well, can I pay you anything? Two-hundred dollars? You know, for being so nice to an old lady?”

“Come on, now, Miss Jane. It’s my pleasure to help your granddaughter when she’s having some troubles. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” she said, finally smiling again. “I promise she won’t be any trouble.”

I chuckled and said, “I’m sure she won’t. I’ll make sure everything is ready for her in case she comes a day early.”

“Thank you, dear.”

She held my arm as I walked her to her old Chevy Impala, where she kissed my cheek before saying, “You do your momma and grandma proud, Andy. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I watched her drive away as my day clerk walked up.

“She’s a bit old for you, boss.”

I looked down at my five-foot nothing employee and said, “What can I say, Ann? I’m in a dry spell.”

We laughed and Ann teased, “My daughter is single, you know. It’s too bad she lives all the way in California.”

“Yeah, too bad,” I answered trying to hide my groan.

Her daughter was an Only Fans model, and everyone knew that except for Ann. I guess some things can be a secret from certain people in a small town. Her daughter was the recipient of $6.99 of my money every month. For research purposes of course.

The next day, I walked out to the beach and enjoyed a post-work cigar. It was early so no one was out there, and I noticed the sand needed some attention.

I was about to start picking up garbage when a teenaged couple walked up.

“Hey, you’re the new owner, aren’t you?” The boy asked.

“Yeah. The beach is for guests only, I’m afraid.”

“No, we’re your cleaning crew,” the girl interjected. She was in a modest one-piece red bathing suit and carried a beach bag.

“My what?” I asked wondering what they were talking about. The payroll records didn’t show them as employees.

“Yeah,” the boy added. “The old owner let us use the beach if we cleaned it and dragged the sand. We just realized you opened up again.”

I didn’t know anything about that arrangement and before I could argue, the girl said, “Yeah. We come by and pick up the garbage and on Saturday, we use the golf cart to drag the sand.”

I had wondered why I had a golf cart in the garage. I used it to drive back and forth from my house a few times.

I said, “So, you guys do that and get paid in beach time then?”

“Yep. It’s a good deal, right?” She asked hopefully.

I had no idea if they were telling me the truth or not, but I liked the bargain even if they were making it up.

I said, “Okay. It’s a deal. I’m Andy.”

“I’m John and this is my twin sister, Jenny.”

“Okay, John and Jenny. How often do you clean the beach?”

Sadly, I’d never thought of the beach needing to be cleaned before. Some motel manager I was.

“We used to come by every night after the beach closed to pick up the trash. It’s usually not that bad, so it only takes a few minutes. Then on Saturday morning we’d come early to make the sand flat and nice for the weekend.”