Make Mine A Monster: Monsterotica: Book 2 (2 page)

“Have a good day.” I wiggled my fingers, waving as I walked away leaving the darling gentleman standing there with his mouth open.

“Ernest! Shut the door, you old fool! Do ya’ think we’re trying to air condition the whole town?” A woman, who I assumed worked in the clerk’s office, peeked her head out, scolding him.

“Whatever, Thelma. It’s hot enough to boil a tick off a bloodhound out there. Might help a little bit. So quit gettin’ yer girdle in a twist.”

Out of nowhere, an orthopedic shoe flew through the wide doorway, across the small lobby and promptly walloped Ernest upside the head with a resounding
thud!
I suppressed a giggle, watching in fascination as their banter continued. I had no idea if the two of them were single or not, but there was definitely an air of attraction between them when Thelma waddled they stood toe-to-toe, arguing.

I couldn’t help myself and before I knew it, “Are the two of you an item? It’s none of my business, of course. However, you’re never too old t
o have some fun.”

Thelma’s eyes grew big as saucers. Picking up her lonely shoe off of the floor, she spun on one nylon-clad toe and toddled back into the office she’d come from.   Turning beet red and mumbling to himself, Ernest ducked his head and quickly vacated the building
.

“Way to clear a room, Rosie.”

Taking a deep breath, I made my way through the building, searching for something that resembled a map or an office listing of some type. When I’d called last week, I had been told by one of the employees that the librarian-slash-historian of Hopkinsville would be there for a few short hours and as I glanced at the time according to my cell phone, the possibility of speaking with her was quickly dwindling. After I’d just stuck my nose into Thelma and Ernest’s business, I could only hope that Thelma wasn’t the person I was supposed to be getting information from.

Chalk it up to my being in a hurry, but I’d realized I had passed the only directory for Hopkinsville Town Hall five times. There
, on one of the bright yellow walls, hung a lonely sheet of paper, listing the four people who worked there and where their offices were located.

“Two offices, four people. Why did I expect anything more than that?” I chuckled.

Turning around, I retreated back towards the direction of Thelma’s office, my flat sandals slapping the shiny, marble floors in a steady staccato as I braced myself for the impending groveling that I knew I’d have to do.

“Hello again
, Thelma.”

She stood, approaching the front desk, a Formica-topped affair; I assumed wasn’t the only thing in town that had
survived the supposed alien invasion of the fifties. From what I had seen, Hop Town might be hopping, but it was definitely to the beat of a long forgotten song from happier days.

Thelma’s narrow gaze latched onto mine with laser beam precision and I suddenly felt like I’d been transported back to grade school and was about to be reprimanded by my teacher, Mrs. Shepson. With her silver hair, well-weathered face and no nonsense attitude, Thelma could’ve been my fifth grade teacher’s long lost sister.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I mean…please. I have an appointment with your local historian. I was told I could find her here.”

“And just who are you? You don’t look like a local.”

She stood on tiptoe, giving me another once-over. Pursing her lips, she cocked her head to the side letting me know she didn’t approve of my outfit. Apparently, short khaki shorts, a nice pair of sandals and a light as air, white cotton blouse wasn’t acceptable clothing in this town where time stood still.

“My name is Rosie Peaks. I’m an investigative journalist with the Ridge Top Review in DuFour, Indiana. I spoke to someone here last week about gathering information for my newspaper’s newest feature.”

“What kind of
feature
? What would be interesting enough to bring a girl like you to these parts?”

Thelma was being cautious, I expected that to be part of this expedition. Small towns didn’t take kindly to strangers poking about and Thelma was a prime example of the type of people I knew I’d encounter.

“I’m here to learn all I can about your monsters.” She stood there, her gaze now focused on her fingernails which were badly in need of a good manicure. Thelma slid one fingernail under the other, cleaning each individual nail while an uncomfortable silence hovered over us like thick smog.

“Imagine that. Do you know how many of your kind show up in your fancy clothes wantin’ information each day?
City folks
lookin’ to make a spectacle out of a serious event that happened almost sixty years ago and an annual event every year after that. Why do you people think we’re something to write about? Something to gawk at? We have feelings, you know.”

Wow. This was going to be a lot tougher than I thought. Time to do some name dropping in the hopes it would smooth her rough edges.  First, however, I pulled out the big guns.

“Thelma, I must apologize. I know we probably got off on the wrong foot. I never should’ve stuck my nose into your business with, Ernest, was it? I’m so very sorry. Honestly, I found you both to be adorable and refreshingly entertaining. I know…”

“Entertaining! Well, I never! If that’s some sort of an apology, girl, you’re not doing a very good job of it. Didn’t your mama ever teach you any manners?”

Right back in fifth grade all over again.

“You’re right, Thelma. I’m sorry. Truly. It was none of my business. Can we start over?”

“Why? So you can exploit the good names of people in this good town just to sell a few newspapers? No thank you.”

“But, Thelma…”

“No buts. Look, I don’t know who sent you here and I don’t care. If you aren’t here to enjoy the festival like everyone else, then go back to where ya’ came from. Between reporters and movie directors running our town through the mud, we’ve all had our fill”

“But, Melanie Wickey sent me.”

Thelma snapped to attention and her eyes took on an almost evil glow. “Leave. Now.” She pointed towards the door and I’d have been the dumbest woman in the world to argue with Thelma. I’d rather take my chances with a monster any day of the week.

Chapter Three

Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to get any information out of the very old and very bitter Thelma, I retreated to my truck. Unlocking the doors with a handy remote keychain, I hopped inside, pondering what my next move should be. I needed information for this story and though I’d never let anyone get in my way of digging for facts before, this wasn’t
my
town and I knew I had to tread lightly.

Thankfully, Hopkinsville was close enough to a cell tower and even though it used my cellular data, I could hop online to search for tidbits about Hop Town’s alien and goblin festival. Of course, nothing other than what I already knew popped up.

“Damn.”

Frustrated and sweaty, I tossed my phone into the passenger seat, started the truck with the
air conditioner dial switched to on. Pressing my forehead to the cool leather wrapping on the steering wheel, I chewed at my bottom lip. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was I thinking? No one was going to talk to me or tell me their deep, dark secrets. I’d been away from home for half a day and already I’d hit a brick wall.

Leaning back in my seat, I looked around the small town in front of me. The many decorations attached to utility poles, storefronts and awnings hung perfectly still with not even a hint of a breeze in the stiflingly humid air. How were these people going to make it through an entire three-day festival without keeling over from heat exhaustion, I had no idea.

“The festival!”

God, I could be so damn dippy. I’d wait for the festival to start. Surely there would be plenty of people willing to talk, especially if alcohol happened to be involved. I was sure that I’d hear a boatload of stories; real or imagined once the festivities began. Maybe I’d find that one person who’d tell all of the nitty-gritty details of the Sampson house. Who knew? I might even run into someone who knew my boss.

Checking the time, I realized it was time for me to check in at the hotel. Easing the truck into the slow-moving traffic, I made my way down Main Street and towards the outskirts of town.

Hotel Kelley was the only place to stay within twenty miles of Hop Town. Obviously, their annual festival brought a ton of what Thelma would call
gawkers
and I was one of the lucky few who had been able to score a last minute hotel room. By last minute I mean, a year late and a few weeks ago when I’d called to book a room, the desk clerk made sure to inform me of everything.

“We’re usually booked a year in advance, Miss. But, I just happen to have one room that just opened up. It’s nothin’ special, but it’ll get you by in a pinch.”

The desk clerk had proceeded to go on and on about how many guests they averaged each year and proceeded to barrage me with her overzealous southern charm while I waited for what felt like a month for my credit card information to be processed.

“We’re just so happy you’ll be visitin’ us soon!”

After finally saying our goodbyes, I was positive I’d be able to breeze into town, get enough research done to write my article, possibly shag a monster and get out of town without any problems. Boy, was I wrong.

I pulled into the large gravel parking lot and squeezed my full-size truck into a less than adequate spot. The red, flashing ‘no vacancy’ sign above the door was glaringly bright now that the sun was on the other side of the foothills and though the building was nothing like a certain hotel in the movies, I felt like I’d just stepped onto a movie set. Sure, there were twenty other vehicles in the lot, but out there, in the middle of nowhere, I immediately felt alone.

Suppressing a shiver, I gathered my purse and made my way across the stone lot and through the front door. A jingling bell announced my arrival when I walked into the musty, smoke-filled office. Taking in the sparse and outdated surroundings, I waited for the desk clerk to arrive and when she did, I shouldn’t have been surprised at her appearance, but I was.

“Howdy! I’m Darcy Kelley. Can I help you? If you’re lookin’ for a room, yer’ outta luck. We’re all booked.”

“Hi. My name is Rosie Peaks and I have a reservation.” I smiled, pulling my driver’s license out of my wallet and placed it on the counter, hoping the rooms weren’t as smoky and musty as the office I was standing in. I had nothing against smokers, certainly not even the fifty year old woman with a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips standing before me, but I prefer to sleep in fresher accommodations.

Darcy picked up my identification, looking it over. A strange look passed over her face before she slid it back across the counter to me.

“I’m all booked up.”

“But, I have a reservation.” What the hell was happening?

“I said we’re booked.”

“You can’t be serious?” I couldn’t hide my irritation and I shoved my wallet back into my purse with a bit more force than was necessary. “How can you ignore the fact that I
reserved
your last room a few weeks ago? Remember how
lucky
I was?”

“I remember. That was before.”

“
Before what?”

Darcy averted her eyes, refusing to meet mine. “Look, just head back to wherever you came from. I don’t want any trouble.”

Trouble? What was she talking about?

“I have a business to run. Please leave.”

“What am I supposed to do? There’s nowhere else to stay in this crazy-ass town.”

Clearly uncomfortable, Darcy muttered, “I’m sorry. Really I am. But you have to leave. I can’t have you here stirring things up for us. We’re barely hanging on as it is.”

Suddenly, the light bulb went on. Apparently, Thelma was a lot more than a clerk at the Town Hall. Her reach extended to the edge of town and its flailing businesses. I was officially screwed.

“Darcy, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I did apologize for upsetting Thelma.”

At the mention of her name, Darcy looked away quickly and I knew I was on the right track.

“I’m sure you’ll find another room somewhere. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests to attend to.”
Without another word, she turned and headed back through the narrow doorway she’d come through.

“Lovely.”

I shoved the door open hard, the bells jingling and jangling grating on my already frazzled nerves as I left the hotel office. Walking back to my truck, defeat tried again to settle on my shoulders. The fact was, I had camping gear. I could always glamp it up if I had to.

“Now, to find a campground.” Kicking up a cloud of dust, I retrieved my phone from my truck and started searching. So involved in my task, I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. The long shadow that fell across me caused me to jump.

“Ma’am?”

Before me stood an extremely attractive, six-foot tall, real-life cowboy. Or as close to the real thing as I’d ever seen. I could onl
y assume he was a real cowboy. I mean…he was
dressed
like one; Stetson, boots, soft cotton t-shirt and boots. I was willing to go with it.