Joel
It takes me longer than I anticipate getting to the Apricot Inn. Not only did I have two additional passengers I hadn’t planned on, but the old man had to stop and piss every five minutes. I used that time to phone Ray, to give him updates. Ray is my booker. The upper middleman, you could say. He’s a businessman; he doesn’t get his hands dirty. Which probably explains why he only answered one of the three attempts I made to reach him. It has been twenty-six hours since I heard Ray sobbing on the other end of the phone. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m walking into. I just know it isn’t good.
I arrive and knock on the door, but there is no answer. I cross the parking lot and climb in the truck. As I contemplate my next move, I sit facing the inn. After about an hour, I see Ray c
