Playa Della Rosa

The hardest thing about working this job used to be getting past the pubic hairs. My mama had a thing for boogers and runny noses, and my Achilles heel—or so I thought—was pubic hair. Funny. It’s not much of a weakness for me anymore. Not after all the toilet seats and bathroom floors I’ve scrubbed.

Today I get to explain things to the new girl, Lydia. Poor thing. It’s her first real job in forever and they start her right off in the High Roller section of the motel. That’s what I call it, the High Roller section. It’s actually my favorite part of the Playa Della Rosa Motel—it’s where I pick up most of my best stuff. See, swishing pubic hairs and swabbing half-dry vomit off the floors at the Rosa isn’t my only gig. I’m a writer. The Rosa is where I get ideas.

Take last month for example. I tried to focus on poor Magdalena’s face. I wanted to capture the moment she opened that brand-new suitcase and that sweet little baby’s corpse rolled out. Bounced off the floor. Priceless. I mean, the smell ought to have tipped her off, but she was always grubbing, looting, looking to score. I happened to see her just as she opened it and the baby’s corpse fell out. My friends all say I nailed it. Captured it perfect. It comes out next month in some Canadian ‘zine.

Yeah, the Rosa’s been pretty good to me so far.