[The
hotel room Sasha was staying in for the night was hardly the glamour of downtown. It was small, cramped, and generally rented by the hour as noted by the bare plywood headboard with handwritten rates etched in pen along the edge. Not that Sasha cared at the moment. It was a bed instead of a worn and rusted tilt-a-whirl cart, so it was awesome for the night. Besides, it was right beside the doughnut shop, and didn't those make for a perfect dinner? There were still several left from the dozen she'd picked up, the box teetering precariously on the nightstand that wasn't meant to actually hold anything apart from the rotary phone and alarm clock that was straight out of 1985.
At least there was a TV, and she'd found a channel out of the five available that was playing a knock-off of a Lifetime knock-off movie that was probably based on a novel by an author that wanted to be Danielle Steele. Not that Sasha could follow. It was dubbed into Spanish with the closed captioning coming up as absolute gibberish. Several guns were spread out on the red slab of sandpaper that passed for a comforter, and Sasha was meticulously cleaning them as she waited for Cat to arrive. Maybe she should have gotten a better room, something that would be impressive and luxurious, but this felt more at home to Sasha than she'd been in so very long. For what it was worth, she was actually looking forward to seeing Cat.
She hadn't been crying for a whole ten minutes. It felt like an accomplishment.]