A bell dinged over the door of the motel office, but the young male behind the counter didn't even look up when Dean walked in. His eyes were only focused on the television hanging on the wall, while watching Pedro Escalante's video clips.
"Did you see this?" the clerk demanded, sounding awed. "This is some crazy stuff right there."
"Yeah. Crazy," Dean agreed. He dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the countertop. "I need a room."
Without wrenching his eyes from the TV, the clerk slid over a clipboard. "Fill this out."
He wrote his fake name, address and credit card number there, then handed it back to the clerk, and he received a big red key in return.
"Towels in the bathroom. Wi-Fi password is the motel name and your room number. Check out time is 10:00 a.m." The clerk recited the facts without once looking at Dean. As Escalante's angry eyes flashed on the screen, the clerk shook his head. "Freak terrorists! Think they can mess with us?"