“Jenni Plochka?” Dressed in a faded, pink bathrobe, the worn woman read from the card in her booze and tobacco harshened voice. The blue neon “Vacancy” flashed through her cigarette smoke. Her eyes narrowed as she looked Jenni up and down suspiciously. “Don’t get many BMWs here.”
“I just wanna crash. Gotta bed?”
“OK. But we doin’ paintin’ and wirin’, so th’only room is an old one at the end.”…
50 Cents Flash Fiction - OLD SITE - 
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