"I'll go get us some food. They might be looking for us and someone might recognize you."
Wistfully Brody watched Carrie walk back towards the parking lot, then trudged over to room number five. After unlocking the door with the keys she'd handed him, he was immediately met with a wall of heat.
He was tempted to keep the door open to air out the room, but knowing the whole reason Carrie had intercepted him and dragged him here was to hide him, he shut, locked and bolted the door before crossing the room, fiddling with the thermostat. Even cranked to the lowest setting, what little air did come from the vents was coming out warm. Providing no relief whatsoever.
Bending to open the small minifridge he saw the ice tray was unfilled, but there was a small sampling of drinks, including an untouched six pack of beer and some kind of fruit juice. Taking two of the cans from the package he opened, chugged them. They weren't close to cold enough but were better than nothing. Taking out two more he set them on the bed, leaving the remaining two in the fridge for Carrie when she got back.
Opening the third can, chugging it he lay back on the bed, sweat starting to drip down his face, his back. The musty bedspread was starting to stick to him. He thought about taking a cold shower, but lacked the energy and drive to move. The heat and the alcohol starting to set in. He wondered how long he'd have to be in here before he started showing signs of heatstroke. How long before he'd die of heatstroke. There were worse ways to go after all. At least it would be less messy than a SWAT team kicking the door in and shooting him in the fucking head.
Hearing a loud knock he sat up with a jolt, "Hello?"
"Brody it's me. Open the goddamn door!"
Quickly chugging the fourth beer before standing, staggering across the room he unbolted the door, unlocked the knob as Carrie brushed past him, set the take out containers on the table.
"Jesus Christ, it's like a fucking sauna in here!"
Rolling her eyes she threw off her jacket and crossed the room, tried her luck with the thermostat.
"I already tried. Piece of shit's on the...the lowest setting."
"Well I'm going back to that guy at the desk! Getting him to fix it."
"For Christ's sake, Carrie, we'll be here one night at the most. Just leave it.", Brody sighed, his head starting to spin even more. Regretting the fourth beer, sitting at the foot of the bed he leaned forward so his arms were resting on his knees.
Frowning, seeing he was beyond his usual shade of pale and had sweated through his shirt, Carrie knelt next to him, moved his slickened hair back.
"That's me. What is it...what's wrong?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you? You weren't like this when I left."
"Well when you left I hadn't opened the fridge yet."
Her eyes flitting between him slumped over, and the four beer cans on the nightstand Carrie snorted, glared at him.
"Great. You started the party without me?", she snapped.
"There's still two in the fridge. I...I saved them for you.", Brody slurred, smiling sweetly as she rolled her eyes, walked back to him.
"Alright, fuck this. C'mon."
"C'mon what?!", he whined as she hauled him to his feet,
"You haven't eaten a thing all day, chugged four beers when it's fucking ninety degrees out and there's no A.C. I'm getting you in a cold shower before you pass out."
"How do you know I haven't eaten a fucking thing all day.", he asked, playfully smiling as she tightened her hold around his waist, led him to the small bathroom.
"Because I could hear you spending your morning arguing with your wife. I doubt you grabbed a granola bar before you curled up in your goddamn hallway.", she spat.
"Well I wouldn't have grabbed one of those for myself 'cause I don't like granola.", he shrugged. "I just don't like it...I like fruit, and...and cereal, cereal's good. I like the Frosted Flakes."
"God, you are so shitfaced."
Making sure he was steady against the sink, she got the shower running, set the water to the coldest setting before drawing the curtain all the way back. Some water splashing onto her pants she stripped out of them, then turned to see Brody struggling with the three buttons on his crimson short sleeved polo top.
"There should be more buttons...it...it doesn't button all the way down like it's s'posed to. I can't."
"Jesus Christ..." Taking hold of the shirt she went to tug it off him, but his arms were still dangling at this sides.
"Arms up, Marine."
"You're not gonna make me do jumping jacks, right? I fucking hated the jumping jacks."
"Depends on if you cooperate."
Quickly lifting his arms she tugged the shirt up, off of him before unbuckling his belt.
"No. S'okay. Think I can manage this.."
After he stripped the rest of the way, helping him into the tub, when Brody slid, almost slipped Carrie climbed in after him, took hold of his waist as the water rushed over him and her both. Slowly turning around in her arms, the cold already starting to sober him up, he realized her sleeveless top was soaked through and that she was starting to shiver.
"For Christ's sake.." Putting the water on a lukewarm setting, he turned back around to face her.
"Any better?", he asked.
"Are you?", she asked back.
Nodding, Brody ran his fingers through her wet hair, grazed the side of her face with his thumb.
Is this for real? Are you just handling me? Keeping me close?
Instinctively Carrie moved closer, realized her arm was still holding his waist.
I don't know. I don't want you to feel used.
Moving her arm, breaking eye contact with his still glassy ones, swallowing hard Carrie stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel and her still wet jeans.
"C'mon. You need to eat. Before the food gets cold.", she said softly, stepping out into the still stifling bedroom. But not caring about the heat so much as getting her hands on those last two beers.