ANDRES CALZADILLA - THE ROOM

Andres Calzadilla discovered his passion for writing fiction at a young age and began writing short stories, as well as creating entire worlds for those stories. This eventually led him to pursue a career at Full Sail University, where he continues to work towards his Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing for Entertainment. Other interests of his include reading, video games, and movies. He currently lives in Knoxville, Tennessee.

THE ROOM

​The hotel room there were practically forced to stay in was very cheap. The carpet was rugged, and the beds were stiffer than rock. Walter looked around the room with an expression of guilt and sadness before taking a swig from glass of straight whiskey. Brody barged through the door slamming it shut behind him as he threw the last of what little luggage they had on one of the beds. He looked over at Walter, who hadn’t moved one muscle since they arrived.
 
            “Walter, how long are we going to keep going like this?” Brody said as he began rummaging through the scarce luggage they were able to get away with. “Walt, I’m speaking to you!”
 
            Walter looked over at Brody with a look of disdain on his face before he took another long sip from his glass. He was staring directly at a painting of a Stillwater collage with envy.
 
            “I didn’t ask you to ride along,” Walter said as he set his glass on the bedside table. “I told you to stay back and just move on with your life.”
 
            Brody looked at the older man like he was crazy. He unzipped one of the backpacks that they had brought with them and emptied it out all right in front of Walter. It was filled with nothing but rolled up hundred-dollar bills. He threw the backpack across the room causing it to hit against the wall. Walt jumps up from the bed and grabs Brody, pulling on his shirt.
 
“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing, huh?” Walter said as he stared Brody down with contempt. He realizes what he’s doing, and let’s go of Brody’s shirt. Walt looks around the room as well as the money on the floor. He glances back at Brody, who’s looking back at him waiting on some sort of response.
           
            “How do you expect me to just drop everything and move on when I’m carrying this kind of baggage?” Brody said as pointed down at all the money that is now scattered all over the floor in front of one of the beds.  “You pulled me into this shitty world of drug trafficking, and you expect me to just be able to forget about it?”
 
            Walter glances back at Brody for a quick second before he rushes over and grabs the backpack the money was stored in. He quickly begins shoveling as much of the money as he can back into it while also discreet as possible, for whatever reason. Once he got every last bit of it back inside the backpack, he shoves it in Brody’s chest. Brody looks at him confused.
 
            “Please, just take the money and use to get yourself out of this mess,” Walter said.
 
            “Are you freaking kidding me? How do you keep figuring that I’m just going to be able to leave?”
 
            “Because the common person doesn’t know where the damn money is coming from, Brody! Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
 
            Brody looks back down at the bag one last time before dropping it on the floor. He looked up at Walter and lunged at him with an almost forceful hug. Walter hesitantly hugs back, only using one arm instead of both. Brody pulls away and looks at Walter like he’s about to cry.
 
            “I’m sorry, I can’t leave you here to fend for yourself,” Brody said as he picked the bag off the floor and threw back on the bed. “You brought me into this crazy world of yours, and I’m already too far deep to leave at this point.”
 
            “So, what are you saying, Brody?”
 
            “I’ll stay.”
 
            Walter stay looking into Brody’s eyes for a couple moments before giving me a nod of approval. He walks back over to the bed and grabs the glass he was using earlier. He refills with some of the whiskey that he brought with him and takes another discreet swig. As he goes back to looking at the painting on the wall, Brody joins in and sits next to Walter. Walter offers Brody some of the whiskey, and he gladly accepts, taking a long drink from it of his own. Not being used to the hard whiskey, Brody coughs harshly a couple times. Walter chuckles as he places an arm around Brody’s shoulder.
 
            “Ya know, you’re alright, kid.”