Okay the Red Rock Inn? Bruh it’s a PARTY. The Hawthornes had me out here thinking it was gonna be scary and dangerous or whatever, but literally it’s awesome. We just like lounge around and drink. Marcus, the bartender, is trying to “make a drinker out of me” by which I mean he’s trying to convince me that I like drinking straight bourbon. He keeps pouring different ones into glasses and saying “that’ll put some hair on your chest”. I’ve been buzzed since Monday night.
Also there’s a pool in the back, between the bar and the rooms. I pretty much float around all day with Bass. Andrea, the girl who was working the insurance desk on Monday, let me borrow a swim suit. Bass let me borrow his sunglasses. Ken, Marcus’ younger brother, makes me fun fruity drinks with umbrellas. I’m drunk, lazy hummingbird. It’s awesome.
Plus, even if this whole week weren’t a welcome vacation from all the Very Important sitting in the back of that stupid car that we usually do, I feel like I’m getting such an education hanging out in here.
For example, according to Bass, the Hawthornes aren’t really hunters.
“Hunters are assholes,” he said. “I mean, they are obviously. Like that’s what they’d call themselves. But there’s more than one way to skin a cat, you know? And the Hawthornes they prefer… like not literally skinning the cat. They’re like… monster conservationists. Cryptozoologist’s.” He laughed and took a long drink of his margarita. “They’re the fuckin Steve Erwins of monsters.”
Plus the WILDEST people come through. I was having a totally casual conversation with this lady dressed like she was on safari, only for Bass to tell me later that this bitch is a SUPERNATURAL BOUNTY HUNTER? I swear yesterday I saw someone come through with HORNS. COOL. Bass says anyone is welcome at the Red Rock inn, cuz it’s witch land so no one’s allowed to hunt.
“We’re Switzerland,” Bass explained. “Neutral territory. Try to hurt someone at the Red Rock and you wake up six days later high as a fucking kite.”
The Hawthornes are… doing their best. I get the impression that this whole place is like an unpleasant family reunion for them. Apparently hunters, or cryptozoologists or whatever, is a pretty small community and they pretty much all know each other. Everyone buys them drinks and apologizes about Nolan.
And who the fuck is Nolan? Bass was the one who finally explained. We were floating in the pool sipping daiquiris.
“They didn’t tell you?” he said, surprised, and when I shook my head he sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Nolan was their brother. He died in a hunt. Last summer.”
I looked up sharply at Neal and Julian, deep in animated conversation with some woman I hadn’t met yet.
“They haven’t really told anyone what happened,” Bass continued. “But I mean with what they get up to…” He didn’t need to finish the thought, like obviously whatever happened it was brutal.
As I watched Neal threw back his head and laughed, apparently totally at ease. Neither of them have said anything. We’ve been sitting in the same tiny ass car together for like two and a half months and they haven’t mentioned a third Hawthorne brother?
I would have asked more questions except then Veronica called Bass in to help her get some work done.
WORK as in FRAUD. Going over all our credit cards and making sure no one figures out they’re fake!
Oh my god we’re going to prison. I’m gonna go to jail and everyone at home will be like ‘whoa did you hear about what ended up happening to Shiloh? She’s in jail for just like a shit load of fraud.’
Fake money! Fake insurance! Fake ID (that part’s cool)!
Neal says that we’re doing a necessary public service and we should get our payment any way we can, so that’s some good rationalization you’ve got goin on Neal.
Anyways Bass finally took pity on me and was like “why not just set up a Patreon account then?”
Soooooooo…….. Hahahahaha like don’t feel like you HAVE to donate anything obviously but like… idk if you wanted to send some pocket change to your friendly neighborhood monster hunter? <33 uuu