Page 41 of The Girl with No Name
We walk up to the hotel desk, and the middle-aged man behind the counter offers a cordial, but not happy, smile.
“Hi,” the man says.
“Hi,” Dunn replies.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Dunn hands over his military ID.
“Charles Galveston Dunn,” the man reads.
“That’s me,” Dunn replies.
The man looks over at me and Luna.
“They’re the band,” Dunn explains. “I’m the protection.”
I have to admit, Dunn does look the part of band security in his aviator sunglasses with his military build.
“Okay…?” The man clears his throat.
I start to open my mouth, but Dunn kicks me in the shins. He shakes his head at the women behind us in line. “Do you really not know who we are?”
The man sighs. “I’m afraid I’m not a big music guy. Why don’t you just tell me your name?”
Dunn lowers his voice and speaks softly through his teeth. “They’re the Red Lemons. Rest of the band is coming later.”
“The Red?—”
“Shhh…” Dunn puts a finger to his lips. “We’re trying to stay low key. Por favor.”
The deal with the Red Lemons is that a few years back, their lead singer passed away, and some didn’t think they’d make it through that tragedy as a band. However, they held strong and remade the band with a new singer—Violet Benson, the redheaded girlfriend of the deceased lead singer—and now they’re on tour after their latest album was one of the biggest of the year. Their sound is some fusion of midwest punk, rock, country, and folk. I call them folk punk. But if you ask me, they just make good music. Their stuff is fire.
Anyway they’re a popular band, but not so huge that many people outside of music know them. Dunn, whether by coincidence or skill, has picked the perfect band for us to impersonate. I think I could pass for Henry Cooney, minus his tattoos, though maybe it’s a stretch to say Luna could pull off Vi given their different hair colors.
Regardless, the man at the counter is not impressed by the game Dunn is playing. “I’m very sorry,” he says. “I’m going to have to ask you all to either produce some ID or exit. We can’t just be giving out rooms to?—”
“I’d like to speak to the manager, please.” Dunn raises his voice now. “I’ll let them know you’re not taking care of the Red Lemons.”
The man’s demeanor changes momentarily, and the women behind us start to get chatty.
“Oh my God, is that Henry Cooney?”one says in a hushed voice.
“Well, I’m going to have to verify you somehow.”
“You have my ID,” Dunn says smoothly. “We’re keeping one of the rooms in our block under my name. I’m sure you understand why we don’t like to make a big deal out of our entry.”
“Look, I’m afraid I can’t…”
Dunn clears his throat and takes down his sunglasses. “How many rooms do we have in our block?”
“You requested three.”
“Exactly. The rest of the band will be here later. Look, we’ve been on the road for hours on our way from Nashville. Would you kindly give us our room?”