Because I’m pretty sure how this night is gonna go. I just have this thing for attracting the ladies. I can’t help it.
“Name, please?” the Demon Ambassador asks us.
“Jimmy,” I say, flashing her my Mighty Pass. “We have a reservation for tonight.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Bittenbelter.” I roll my eyes and don’t even bother trying to correct her. “I see you’ve booked the Minion Maker penthouse.”
“Minion what? Oh. No. I don’t need a penthouse. Just a standard room, OK?”
“Ooooooh,” the ambassador says. “I’m afraid we’re all booked up. In fact, this room is the only one available in the whole resort. Should I cancel it and give it to someone else? We have seven families on the wait list.”
This ambassador is good, I’ll give her that. Because she doesn’t even blink when she tells me that lie.
“No, that’s fine,” Delphi says.
I glare at her.
“What?” She shrugs. “It seems to be the only option.”
I want to take a moment to explain that they’re lying. That there’s probably a hundred other rooms available in some other part of the resort and this is a scam just like everything else on this place. But why bother pointing out the obvious?
“We’ll take the room,” I tell Mighty Scammer.
“Great!” Scammer says, coming around the counter and waving a hand towards a hallway. “The penthouse comes with a private lift bot at your disposal all weekend and room service is—”
“Wait,” I say. “Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say… weekend? We’re not staying the weekend.” I look at Delphi. “Did she just charge me for a weekend?”
“I don’t know,” Delphi says.
“Oh, I thought you knew,” Mighty Scammer says.
I did, I think to myself. Oh, I did. I saw this scam coming a billion miles away. Or I should’ve. Because this place is filled with more chancers, and cheats, and backstabbing snakes than Harem Station.
“The penthouse has a mandatory three-night booking.”
“Of course it does,” I say.
“Your Mighty Passes have been updated with your room keys and… the lift bot awaits! Enjoy your stay!”
Mighty Scammer turns away smiling.
“How do they do that?” I ask.
“What? Cheat you out of your firstborn daughter?” Delphi laughs.
“No. I know how to do that. How do they do that wearing a creepy evil smile?”
“Yeah, I got nothing for that,” Delphi says. “They are super creepy. Anyway, we get a lift bot.”
I blink at her and the whole reality of my situation starts to sink in. I’m stuck in the Vacation Sector just a few million klicks from where I dropped Xyla off this morning, Dicker got a virus and is down a water generator, I’ve probably spent more than twenty thousand credits this afternoon alone while wearing a Mighty Boss hat, and I’m about to share a room with a uni-horn.
“And I think she was going to say room service is included before you interrupted her.”
“You do?” I say. Then I just laugh.
“I like to see the bright side,” Delphi says.
I am literally speechless. So what can I do but wave my hand towards the lift bot and say, “After you, princess. Our chariot awaits.”
Unlike the lift bots on Harem, which are just small circular platforms with no railings, this one is roomy enough for luggage, kids, and has a clear plasti-glass railing so no one falls over the side.
We ascend slowly and dozens of kids down below start pointing at us, begging their parents for a ride on a lift bot even though there are three different rollercoasters running in and around Fire Mountain alone.
But you know what? Pretty soon I can’t hear the little brats. Pretty soon the chaos and confusion down below fades into nothing but a mixture of white noise and waterfalls.
“Ah, that’s better,” Delphi says, turning around to face me and leaning back on the railing. “I know it’s a scam but it might actually be worth it.”
I nod, studying her. Because she doesn’t add up. But I’m too tired to care at the moment. I just want to enjoy my escape from Minion Hell.
The lift bot docks at a large open-air patio and the moment we step off all the noise from down below cuts out.
“Nice,” I say. “It comes with an atmospheric silencer.”
I flash my pass at the security panel on the wall and it turns transparent and slides open. Inside is a suite. And I guess I knew that—it is a penthouse, after all. But I really thought we’d get up here and it would be nothing more than an upgraded standard room you’d find on the Outer Highway.
It’s not.
It’s actually pretty fucking spectacular.
Easily two stories tall. Maybe even two and half. And there’s a reception area with guest bathroom, two chairs, and a small table. Past that is a large, open living area with pale yellow couches, light blue chairs, and accessory tables made out of white quartz.