Savannah in San Francisco

I was in deep shit. Of course I had I.D. it was it was tucked into the same place my ticket was—but could I risk showing it to them? Hell, if they pulled me in they were going to find it anyway. I fished it out. The officer took it from me, looked at it, then passed it back to the other officer.

"Can you please step off the bus ma’am."

I followed them off the bus, I could see through the glass into the station—people were still waiting, apparently nothing had stopped because I had temporarily checked out. I looked to my right where two patrol cars were blocking the driveway, their lights bouncing off the roof of the depot and flashing across my cheek. A group of taxi-drivers stood around with their hands in their pockets watching—maybe hoping that I would be desperate enough to fight.

I should be in San Francisco.

Slow motion in my brain—the second cop walked back to his patrol car to run my license. What would turn up? Shit, I couldn’t tell you, it had been so long since anyone had even said my real name, let alone ask it. Savannah Marie Brown was a relic that had long ago morphed into Sarah Brown, Marie Browning and one time even Browning Marie St. James. Don’t ask me where the fuck I got that one from.

I wiped my nose the officer in front of me was just standing there watching his partner—waiting to arrest me.

The 2nd cop came back and handed my license back to the first.

"You’re along way from Georgia, Ms. Brown."

"I find it boring to stay in one place too long."

"Where is your luggage?"

I shook my head and lied. "Probably in San Francisco"

"He looked at my license one more time then handed it back to me."

"There’s your bus, stay out of trouble. " He pointed to the bus next us whose driver was watching the show through the rearview mirror. Then the smug bastard just walked away.

I climbed onboard the to find one empty seat, and rows and rows of open eyes. Fuck off—I was pretty sure that is what it said across my face, my whole fucking body for that matter.

The driver an enormous black woman with skin the color of brownies eyed me up and down. She spoke in a baritone voice revealing perfect white teeth.

"Am I am gonna have any trouble out of you?"

"No ma’am"

I walked to the open seat sat down, and shut my eyes.

They didn’t open again until we were crossing the bridge into the city—I couldn’t see shit. People were pointing at Alcatraz and the pointy building that marks San Francisco’s skyline but for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off the giant cargo cranes across the bay.

Some fucker I dated told me he made $75 bucks an hour operating those Tonka toys.

As the bus pulled into San Francisco, I realized I needed someplace to stay—and quick. It was nearly nine and that shit I took in Sacramento was making me feel like damn retard.
I limped out to Mission street where the waiting cab drivers ignored me. I got into one without asking. The asshole got in and asked me if I had any money.

Did I have any money? Good question. That crazy old lady had shoved nearly six grand into my hands. It was burning a hole in my pocket—not because I had a need for material bullshit but because it made me feel like I had to be responsible.

I flipped a twenty over the seat of the cab.

"Take me to the nearest, cheapest, clean, hotel."

The driver started up the car drove exactly four blocks to a Days Inn Motel. The asshole didn’t even offer change.

"Keep the change." I flipped him off but he drove off without looking.

I stepped inside of the lobby and was greeted by a bored, pimply faced pot head. There was so much grease on his face I could fry with it.

"May I help you?"

"I need a room."

"Single occupancy?"

"Do you see anyone else?"

"How will you be paying?"

"Cash"

"You need to put down a credit card."

"Up front"

He looked suspicious.

"We aren’t supposed to do that."

"Who is we? I don’t see anyone else."

"How many nights"

"One for now."

"$100 dollars."

"Fuck off." I turned to walk out.

"Ok fine, you blow me and I will give you the state rate."

I smirked, then reached down like I was going to tie my shoe. I felt the knife in my boot with the tips of my fingers, then thought better of it.

"Maybe next time kid." I smiled my best fake smile.

I turned to walk out.

"Wait"

"You can have the room for $49, just give me twenty bucks for a dime bag."

I handed over the cash he gave me one of those credit card keys.

My room was a shit hole on the first floor, I had to walk outside to get to it. There was homeless man puking up his guts, leaning up against the wall. He made the whole area around him smell like bile and cheap wine. I opened the door to my room, it was the size of postage stamp and had a single bed clearly not made for a 20th century adult.

I collapsed on it. I dreamt of that bitch that cost me my job. The asshole clerk and the cop in Sacramento, he was kind of cute. Kind of.