It was just shy of midnight when I suddenly awoke to a loud knock on the door of my motel room. I groaned and finished pulling my pants on as I started over to the door. “Who is it?”
From the other side of the door came a familiar female voice with an annoyed tone that I immediately recognized. “There’s this thing called a peep-hole. You should try it out. All the cool kids are using ‘em.”
“Yeah, because that was a lot easier than just saying ‘Grace,’” I replied as I pulled the door open to find her standing there, holding two large to-go cups of coffee. Grace handed me one of the coffees and nodded back toward the parking lot.
“I didn’t know if you liked any of that pussy shit but there’s cream and sugar in the car, just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said as I accept the cup and took a sip. I then promptly turned my head and spit it back out.
Grace nodded at me and said, “Smooth.”
“You failed to mention the whiskey you put in there.”
Grace squinted at me. “It’s coffee at night. I thought that was to be assumed.”
“Right, of course. Because I’m the weird one here. Who raised you, Ron Swanson?”
