Traffic crawled. The 405 Freeway was a river of red lights in the night. Alex Burnet sighed. Sitting beside her, Jamie said, “How much farther is it?”

“It’s going to be a while, Jamie.”

“I’m tired.”

“See if you can lie back and rest.”

“I can’t. It’s boring.”

“It’s going to be a while,” she said again. She flipped open the new cell phone, found the number she had entered for her old childhood friend. She didn’t know whom else to call. Lynn was always there for her. When Alex and her husband were breaking up, she and the baby had gone down to see Lynn and Henry. The little kids, both named Jamie, played together.

Alex had stayed there a week.

But now, she was having trouble getting Lynn on the phone. At first, she worried she didn’t have the right number. Then she thought there was something wrong with her cheap cell phone. But then she got the answering machine, and now-

“Hello? Hello, who is this?”

“Lynn, it’s Alex. Listen I-”

“Oh, Alex! I’m really sorry, I can’t talk now-”

“What?”

“Not now. I’m sorry. Later.”

“But what-”

She heard the dial tone.

Lynn had already hung up.

She stared forward at the red lights of the creeping freeway.

“Who’s that?” her son asked.

“Aunt Lynn,” she said. “But she couldn’t talk. They just sounded busy.”

“So are we still going there?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

She pulled off the freeway at San Clemente and started to look for a motel. For some reason, she was strangely disoriented by the fact that she could not see Lynn. She hadn’t realized that she’d been counting on it.

“Where’re we going, Mom?” Jamie sounded anxious.

“We’ll stay at a motel.”

“What motel?”

“I’m looking.”

He stared at her. “Do you know where it is?”

“No, Jamie. I’m looking.”

They passed one, a Holiday Inn, but it was too big, and it looked exposed. She found a Best Western, unobtrusive, on Camino Real, and pulled in. She told Jamie to stay in the car while she went into the lobby.

A pimply, gangly kid stood behind the counter. He was tapping his fingers on the polished granite surface, humming a little to himself. He seemed restless. “Hi,” Alex said. “Do you have a room for tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’d like one.”

“Just for yourself?”

“No, for me and my son.”

He glanced out the door at Jamie. “He under twelve?” He was still clicking his fingernails.

“Yes, why?”

“If he goes to the pool, you gotta accompany him.”

“That’s fine.”

Still tapping the counter. She gave him a credit card and he swiped it, all the while tapping out a beat with his other hand. It was getting on her nerves. “Can I ask you why you do that?”

He began to sing in a monotone. “Trouble’s where I’m going, and trouble’s where I’ve been.” He thumped the counter. “’Cause trouble is my middle name and trouble is my sin.” He smiled. “It’s a song.”

“That’s very unusual,” she said.

“My dad used to sing it.”

“I see.”

“He’s dead now.”

“I see.”

“Killed himself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Shotgun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Want to see it?”

She blinked. “Maybe some other time.”

“I keep it right here,” he said, nodding to the underside of the counter. “Not loaded, of course.” Tapping, singing. “Trouble is the only place I’ve been…”

“I’ll just sign in,” Alex said. He gave her back her card, and she filled out the form. Still clicking, all the time. She thought about going elsewhere, but she was tired. Jamie was waiting. She had to feed him, buy some new clothes for him, a toothbrush, all that.

“There you go,” the kid said, giving her the room keys.

It wasn’t until she was back in her car, driving to a parking spot near the room, that she remembered she was not supposed to have used her credit card.

Too late now.

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

“I know, honey. We’ll get something.”

“I want a burger.”

“Okay, we can do that.”

She drove through the parking lot and back onto the street. Better to get him fed before they went to the room.