“A friend?” I ask him menacingly, feeling myself looming up over them both again.
“A… A woman. An older woman…” he stammers. “She hooked up with some guy instead, was supposed to be spending the weekend with the girl. I think,” he adds.
Not much gets past hotel staff. Even in a place like this.
The phone rings, announcing the car is here, letting them both off the hook. For now.
It’s a nice car, prompt and discreet, out the back as promised.
Security ushers me inside and in moments I’m on the streets, eyeballing the sidewalk for Lucy.
At least I have a name for this feeling now.
My driver seems aware of my predicament and has the look of someone bearing bad news.
“Sir?” he asks, getting my attention. Every girl has a white T-shirt on and is carrying a suitcase it seems.
Maybe time to ease up on trying to find Ms. Right in the first five minutes.
If she was booked to stay at the hotel, she’ll be at the convention…
That doesn’t help me now though.
Doesn’t stop this ache in my chest and my pants.
“Uh… You should know. Every hotel in town is booked. The convention thing? It’s great for local business, but not so great for latecomers,” he points out casually.
Without wanting a repeat performance from the hotel, I ask if he has a suggestion.
“My cousin, he works the desk at the Mercurion, a five star joint. Very classy. I can have him hook you up with a room for the weekend, no problems,” he says, dropping his work voice and sounding more like a Brooklyn hustler than a driver for hire.
“Swell,” I exclaim. “And all out of the goodness of his heart too, I bet?” I ask, not even trying to hide my sarcasm, but it gets a smile.
“Hundred bucks,” he says, the smile suddenly dropping into a deadly serious tone.
“Each,” he adds.
I like him. I think I might have found my new permanent driver.
We might have to upgrade the wheels a little, but I have plenty to choose from.
“Deal,” I murmur, saving my job offer idea for later.
Once I see a hotel room key with my name on it and feel crisp sheets under my butt after a hot shower, then I’ll be happy.
“I’m Stefan,” the driver announces, jutting his chin in a formal greeting.
“Nathan,” I echo back, jerking my head like we’re just passing on the street.
I let my new friend do what he has to, making some calls and promising his cousin in a low voice fifty bucks for the privilege of letting him help me out.
Hundred each, huh?
But I have to smile. Gotta hand it to anyone who can make a hustle work in the world today. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.
I’m scanning the streets again, and a couple of times I feel my heart leap when I’m sure I see her.
But it’s not her.
Wrong top or too skinny.
Where are you, Lucy Scarborough?
It’s not long before I feel the car pull up. “Here we are,” Stefan announces, like he’s just delivered the second coming of Christ with one hand.
“Ask for Marty at reception. He’ll sort you out,” he adds, a knowing look as he bobs his head, waiting in silence for his payment.
I hand him three bills and thank him under my breath, taking one of his business cards on the way out without him seeing.
I’ll be calling him when I need him. All things going to plan.
Marty is there, eager to please until I tell him I’m the guy his cousin just called about.
“Uhhh…?” he says absently like he’s thinking aloud.
Sensing a problem, I only shift my brow, not wanting to cause another scene.
“Yeah, we can squeeze you in, Mr. Uh… Cartwright,” he mumbles, flitting through the bookings ledger, pretending to look for something that doesn’t exist.
“But?” I ask, waiting for the sucker punch from cousin Stefan’s deal.
“But you’ll have to double up. Share a room. It’s literally a double suite. Two rooms in one really,” he says flatly, finding the missing something in his ledger as he slams it shut.
Maybe he found the word courage.
“Yeah. Take it or leave it,” he sniffs, folding his arms before leaning over to ask me. “How are you with younger women. You okay with that?”
Chapter Three
Lucy
As soon as I realize who it is standing just a few feet away from me, I suddenly don’t feel so good.
I mean, yay it’s really him but holy shit, look at me.
Confronted with him in person, even though I can see he’s wearing a simple disguise to shield himself, I can’t help but feel all my own inadequacies as a go-to emotion for some reason.
I freeze up for a moment, unsure if I can even move let alone speak, then feel myself picking up the note and money, spinning on my heel, and walking away.
What the actual fuck? What is wrong with me?