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Pulp Fiction
Red Dahlia Motel
The motel had been there since time immemorial. Beside the highway, it was like a luxurious symbol of a past no one dared to erase. It had a pool, a small park, pretty neon lights, a few palm trees, and clean rooms. It wasn't luxurious, of course, but it wasn't miserable either. It was a nice motel, as long as you didn't stay too long.
Veronica Hale had inherited it from her family, to whom it had always belonged. As an only child, she was the owner and manager.
And Luke Harper had inherited… Veronica .
—“Hurry up with that. What are you waiting for?” — she said without looking at him —“The gentleman doesn’t have all day.”
Luke looked up. Veronica was leaning against the counter, bent over just enough so that the wealthy customer could see more of her cleavage than necessary.
The idiot smiled as if the world belonged to him.
—“Veronica…”— he tried to protest.
She didn't even turn around.
—“What are you waiting for?”— he barked at him —“Take the man’s backpack.”—
The customer smiled mockingly. Luke took the luggage. It weighed slightly more than usual.
As she walked towards the room, she heard Veronica 's voice , clear, cynical, and sharp:
—“The current employees aren't worth it.”
Luke kept walking, feeling his heart sink a little more. He didn't answer his girlfriend; he never did. It wasn't worth it anymore.
He had known Veronica since high school. They had grown up together, dated, and longed for things that never came to pass because life, somehow, had passed them by. He had been a mechanic at a nearby gas station until it closed. And she, naturally, had offered him a job at the motel.
—“That way we’ll be together all the time.”— she had told him —“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Well, no, it wasn't exactly that.
Somehow stubbornly, Luke clung to a relationship that wasn't working. He had an old car he'd inherited from his father. He'd grown so attached to it that he sometimes wondered if he truly appreciated the car or if it simply reminded him of the good old days, back when he was a teenager.
Something similar happened with Verónica . Perhaps he stayed with her because of what she represented, not because of who she was.
Melissa Donovan arrived in that small world with the harvest festival.
The festival, with its music, craft beer, and ridiculous contests, was famous throughout the region. The entire town had long celebrated a wealth that was now hard to find.
Around that time, guests would often overrun the small motel. Business-hungry travelers would fill the rooms like a swarm of ants. Farm machinery, seeds, insurance—they offered everything you could imagine.
—“Just for a few weeks,” Melissa said , adjusting her camera . “Then I’m leaving.”
“This will be good for you,” Luke said . “There’s a lot of work to do for the harvest festival. You might even be able to sell your photos.”
Veronica looked her up and down.
—“Provided you clean the rooms first, of course.”
Melissa didn't answer. She smiled. She'd known Veronica for a long time. She'd always been like that. At school, she liked to look down on everyone.
The motel gradually filled up. Many travelers for the party and too many lovers seeking refuge away from familiar eyes. The kind of clientele you could expect from a roadside motel.
It was not uncommon to see couples arriving with their faces hidden, to hear nervous laughter, and cars entering at night and leaving a couple of hours later.
Melissa was in charge of cleaning the rooms and checking that everything was alright. If any repairs needed to be done, she would call Luke .
Until, while cleaning, he found the camera.
She was small. And she was well hidden.
—“This isn’t right.”— he murmured.
He went to look for Veronica . He found her, of course, flirting.
—“Veronica, I have to…”—
—“Not now.”— she interrupted as she buttoned her low-cut top —“Talk to Luke. That’s what I pay him for.”—
—“But…”—
—“It’s a simple order. Didn’t you hear it?”— she said without looking at her —“I’m busy with important matters.” —
Melissa left without saying anything.
Luke did listen to her. He always listened to her.
—“Let’s see.”— he said.
They entered the room. They searched. And they found more.
—“God…”— Melissa whispered —“How many will there be?”
She didn't answer right away, but I had my suspicions. She stared at the walls as if she didn't recognize them.
He looked at the first camera and then at Melissa .
—“I don’t think this is the only room,” she said quietly.
—“Do you want to check other rooms?”— she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
—“Just a couple. That’s all.”
They went into the next room. Luke closed the door, drew back the curtain, and checked behind the mirror, under the mantelpiece, inside the smoke detector.
—“Here.”— Melissa murmured , pointing to a spot on the ceiling, right above the bed.
Luke maneuvered a little, then twisted with his fingers and the small lens appeared, black and silent. They said nothing. They went into another room. And then another. In all of them, the same: tiny cameras, patiently hidden, pointing at the bed like a sick eye.
They put them back in their place.
—“They’re not just for looking at,” Luke said finally . “Someone’s taking pictures or filming.”
Of course they weren't there to watch: someone was unloading that material, classifying it, and storing it.
They went to talk privately, to Luke 's room .
—“It’s someone from here.”— he said thoughtfully —“From the hotel.”
Melissa swallowed.
Luke leaned his hand against the wall, suddenly tired.
—“Yes.”— he said —“And now I understand several things.”
Melissa understood what he meant:
"That explains the new car," she said . "And the pool renovation."
He nodded through gritted teeth. The little luxuries, the secret calls, the deleted messages.
—“Since when have you been doing this?”— Luke confronted his girlfriend that night.
Veronica didn't flinch.
—“Mind your own business. Fix that old car you're so determined to throw your savings away on.”
—“What you’re doing will cause problems. For you, and probably for everyone.”
—“And what bothers you?”— he smiled —“You eat thanks to bribes. You and everyone else.”
—“I’m your boyfriend. Weren’t you going to tell me?”
—“You’re also my employee, don’t forget that,” he clarified . “If it weren’t for me, you’d be begging in the street.”
—“Thanks for clarifying. I had forgotten.” — Luke said , not wanting to argue anymore.
Melissa found him a little later.
—“You don’t deserve this.” —
Luke lowered his head.
—“No.” —
They kissed. It wasn't passion, perhaps it was more of a refuge.
A few days later a powerful client arrived. He sold agricultural machinery
—“I want my photos.”— she said —“Now.”—
—“No. Let’s talk business first.”— Veronica replied .
Luke tried to intervene.
—“Maybe we could…”—
—“Don’t interfere.”— she cut him off —“I don’t need any man to defend me.”—
Luke left with his fists clenched. He didn't look back.
—“I’m warning you: you have three days.”— said the client —“You’ll regret it later.”
That same night Veronica went out to have fun, looking for entertainment in some bars in the city.
Luke and Melissa met by chance at the pool. They talked and swam. The sound of the water drowned out the noise of the road.
After swimming, with her hair still wet and her skin cooling in the night air, Melissa paused for a moment and looked at him:
—“Are you coming up? I have a bottle that’s half-open.”— he said, as if he were talking about the weather.
Luke hesitated for barely a second.
—“Yes, thank you. A drink won't hurt anyone.”
Inside, the room smelled of bath soap, of a soft and intoxicating perfume. Melissa poured two glasses.
—“To the harvest.”— he toasted, raising his.
—“For surviving her.”— Luke replied , gently tapping the glass.
They sat on the bed. The silence stretched out, comfortable yet tense.
—“You didn’t have to stay today. You could have gone with Veronica.”— she said, without looking at him.
—“I know,” he replied . “But I’ve chosen to stay for a long time now.”
Melissa smiled, understanding and sad.
—“Luke…”— she began to say, and then she stopped there.
He looked up.
—“Tell me.” —
She didn't say it. Luke simply moved closer. When they kissed it was slow, almost careful, as if they were both checking that it was real
—“If you want me to stop…”— Luke murmured .
—“No.”— she whispered —“Don’t stop.”
The words soon ran out.
Outside,
a car roared past on the highway, but inside the room, time slowed and
slowed. What followed was intimate and serene, without urgency or
immediate guilt. It was two people clinging to a moment of truth,
knowing—without saying a word—that at dawn nothing would ever be the
same.
Luke held Melissa close as she rested her head against his chest. They gazed upward, as if the ceiling might open at any moment.
—“Do you know what the worst thing about this place is?”— he said quietly —“That it makes you believe there’s nothing beyond the highway.”
Melissa took a deep breath.
—“I always thought I was alone,” she replied . “Even when I was surrounded by people.”
Luke tightened the hug a little more. He kissed her forehead.
—“Me too. But now I see that's not the case.”
There was a long silence.
—“I don’t want to wake up one morning and still be here,” she said . “Cleaning up other people’s messes… and living with our own.”
“You don’t have to,” Luke replied . “We can leave. Today. Now.”
Melissa barely turned her head.
—“So where do we start again?”
Luke hesitated for a second, then spoke, decisively.
—“With the bribe money. That money doesn't belong to him. It never was his.”
Melissa smiled; it was a tired but hopeful smile.
—“Far from here.”— he dreamed —“Where no one knows us.”
—“Together.”— Luke added .
She placed her hand on his chest.
—“And accompanied.”— he concluded, as if by saying it the dream became real.
Luke closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, his little hell seemed to be behind him, far behind him.
After getting dressed, they packed their bags. They met at the office.
They opened the safe. They took out the money and everything of value.
Melissa took a picture of the two of them, hugging.
He wrote: “ Not everyone you humiliate will be left crying. ”
He put it inside.
And they left.
The next day the customer returned with a thug
As she watched them through the window, Veronica shouted:
—“Where is Luke?”— he needed urgent protection.
When she couldn't find him, she shouted:
—“What a stupid guy!”—
They entered the office. The thug pushed her against the counter
—“Give him the photos, darling. A scar wouldn't look good on you.”— she whispered.
Fearfully, Veronica opened the safe.
It was empty.
She read the photo.
Outside, the highway was still roaring
As if nothing had happened.
THE END
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