Nightwork
“His black, sweaty hair was thinning, he wore blue jogging shorts and running shoes. Sitting straight, look-ma-no-hands style, he spooned yoghurt from a yellow paper cup. Outside an open sliding glass door, the children Dave had seen earlier, waiting by the front gate, kicked a black and white soccer ball around. Their voices were shrill. From the size of the exercise ground, Dave guessed that once there had been a swimming pool in its place. Had the buildings originally housed a motel? The rooms were uniform motel-unit size. The others he had peered into held school desks. This one had a big desk, file cabinets, telephones, bookcases, typewriter, home-size computer, framed certificates on the wall. Except for the Exercycle, it was unmistakably a school office. It was also unmistakably a motel room.
“I’d ride a ten-speed on the streets,” Kilgore was saying by way of apology, “but the only ten-speeds you’ll see in Gifford Gardens are the green ones that belong to the G-G’s.”
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