Chapter Twelve
The following day, mid-afternoon, Charleston tapped on Amanda Winter's motel door. He held a couple of brown bottles, and he fidgeted.
“What do you want?” Her voice rang from behind the locked door.
He held up the beers. “I brought you a fine German lager. The good stuff.”
With obvious umbrage Amanda slid open her motel door several inches. She wore faded jeans and a pink t-shirt.
“I don't drink. I think I told you already.”
“Even beer?”
“What are you, brain dead? Or just barely?” Amanda c****d her head, and her hair lay flat and lifeless. She appeared almost like a regular human being, but he knew the truth.
“I thought you meant like whiskey, the hard stuff. Hey? Do you get high?”
“Uhm.” Amanda stuttered just long enough for Charleston to jump to action. “I'll be r
