Chp. 4

☆ Mark ☆

It was the thirteenth day after his mother's funeral that Mark decided to save her "precious" Lovelane. That was not the only turnaround he made. Smoking weed beside her grave every morning was also cancelled. He decided it was pointless and a waste of time. Especially if he meant to save his livelihood.

He couldn't decide what had brought on the epiphany. Was it the serious roasting he got from his uncle? Or the scolding that accompanied his merely mentioning that he wished to sell the place? One thing was certain. The talk with Kendi, his cousin, the one who was set to take his house, had played a major role.

When she called at first, he'd told himself to bear in mind that money and property caused family members to turn on each other. All of his mother's assets would go to her if he failed to adhere to the will. So he'd listened without forming any real opinion.

It had been on the tip of his lips to beg her that he didn't want to be homeless. She could take everything else but the house. If he were honest with himself, the most important thing to him now was keeping that place where he lived with his beloved mother. The place where he was born. His home.

"You can do this, Mark. Auntie Dora knows that's why she put that in her will." She told him over the phone.

When he replied with 'yeah right,' she added,

"You're great with numbers, and you're very clever. Are you listening to me, bro? And Auntie saw that, too, I'm sure of it."

At those very words, his resolve to constantly alternate between lying on the bed or sitting by his mother's grave for the rest of his life had weakened. He had felt it waver as she spoke.

It was a rainy morning, and Mark sat at the reception of the motel, wondering where to begin with the whole revival project. He decided the first thing was to remodel the place. But business must go on while renovations are taking place.

There was only one tiny problem with this plan. Most of the staff had quit. The receptionist and the clerk left last week without notice. They got new jobs at the new cheesy hotel down the road. 'What type of hotel calls itself The Street Inn?' A dumb name for a place like that, Mark thought. At least, the girls didn't try to demand any payment before they left. They didn't seem to care. Then again, it was the middle of the month, and they hadn't given any real notice, so he didn't think he owed them.

Check this out. He was now thinking of the place as his, wow! Mark nearly laughed out loud when the thought occurred to him, but he remembered that there was nothing remotely funny about his situation. So he took a sip from his sweet coffee and went back to making notes.

He only had two staff left. That's the housekeeper and one security guard. There's no guarantee that those two wouldn't walk in to drop their resignation this morning, too. He decided he'd handle administration for now, but he needed a second brain.

The place could only serve as a short stay or overnight lodge for now. The name "motel" was merely a more acceptable term for 'brothel," was it not? Except there were no sex workers here. The place was good enough for people to come in to fuck themselves for a few hours or overnight. Mark told himself that this line of thought was one reason he doubted he could bring the place back to life.

"Be serious with this!" He breathed. "Room service? Pause for now."

He didn't know how long he sat there thinking, planning, scribbling things on his note. The sound of footsteps by the door made him lift his head to look at the time. It was already 8:28. He stood up quickly to unlock the bars and front door. They should have been open an hour ago.

"Good morning, sir." Joe, the security greeted him.

"You're late." As Mark spoke, he caught the stunned look on the man's face. "That's right, we are getting back to seriousness from today." He added with a nod.

"OK." Joe nodded before heading inside hesitantly to change into his uniform.

When the housekeeper arrived that day, Mark called a meeting to let them know the business was not folding up just because his mom passed away. He announced that he intended to raise the place and make it better than "those new guys down the road."

Joe tried to hide his smile, but Mark caught the guy's twisted lips.

"Why? You don't think I can? You're probably right. Alone, I may not be able to do that. But I have you guys." He was looking at the guy dead in the eye. "Or are you planning to quit, too?"

He didn't blink and didn't look away until Joe lowered his eyes.

"No, sir. I'm not planning to quit till you close down the place." He raised his head to meet Mark's eyes again as he said this.

"Good to know. And you, Ugo?" He fixed his eyes on the lady staff in charge of cleaning.

"I'm not quitting, sir." Her smile was kind.

"I'm glad." He nodded. In truth, glad didn't quite cover it. He felt so reassured, he could have hugged the both of them.

"Okay then. Let's get to work. Does anybody know a painter?"

"I'll find one." Ugo volunteered.

With that, Mark began the task of saving his late mother's business and taking responsibility for his life. He decided that another first on his list was hiring that "second brain." He needed to act fast on that.