2. Chapter Two - Abby
Abby
M r. Rude is standing at the reception, hands clutching the edge of the counter, red in the face and all but screaming at the poor girl working behind it. I bet she was never more grateful for the glass panel separating her from the guests.
“How the hell could this happen? What idiot made your bookings?” He raises his voice more and more, running his hand through his hair and I fear my eyes are going to pop out of my head from rolling them too hard. Figures that a man who likes to run over women wouldn’t be the calm and collected type.
Other than him, the lobby is almost empty, so at least I’m the only other person he’s disturbing. Now I know why the security guard outside continues to stare inside, though. He’s tall, buff and scowls, arms crossed in front of his chest and more than ready to escort Mr. Rude outside.
“Bonjour, madame.” Another worker appears behind the neighboring counter and smiles at me like someone is holding a gun to his back.
“Bonjour, monsieur,” I greet him with a smile on my face and step forward to hand him my passport. “A reservation under ‘Hayes’. I believe my brother has called about the change of guest?”
“Yes, madame, of course.” His smile slightly relaxes as he types in my name and pulls up the booking.
Meanwhile, I watch Mr. Rude from the corner of my eye. He is continuously spouting curses into his phone, starting to pace in front of the counter.
The poor girl on the other side looks like she’s about to cry, staring at her screen and trying to find a solution for whatever is going on. I feel so sorry for her. She looks so rattled, her face red and blinking hard.
“Madame,” the man who’s handling my check-in, André according to his nametag, says carefully, his eyes darting from me to the asshole to my left. “There is a small problem with your room.”
“Oh no.” I direct my attention back to him, clutching the handle of my suitcase a little tighter. He’s not going to tell me that I’ll have to find another hotel, is he? “What is it?”
“I am afraid we have overbooked your room category,” he says and grimaces, probably expecting me to blow up like the guy next to me. My heart drops. I knew it. Just my luck. How the hell am I going to find another hotel on such short notice?
“I am very sorry, there appears to have been a mix-up with our booking partner. Would you be willing to change to another room category?”
I sigh in relief. Thank God.
“Of course, if it ends up being a cheaper room, the difference will be refunded. I have to check which rooms are available first,” he adds, and I nod.
“Sure, that’s fine. Go ahead.” I give him a reassuring smile and he types some more into his computer. My brother is a fan of the fine things in life, so I’m sure I’ll be alright, even with a lower category than he booked.
“Again, I am very sorry.”
“It’s no problem. Really, don’t worry about it. I understand that this is out of your hands.” Contrary to a certain guy right next to me. Mr. Rude has hung up his phone and is once more loudly talking to the poor girl.
“Here you go, Madame.” He hands me back my passport and I rummage through my bag to find my wallet.
“Thank you, André.”
“Your room has already been paid for, but I have now upgraded you from our classic room to our suite with a view of the Eiffel tower and balcony. It’s on the seventh floor. Go right when you step out of the elevator and you will find your room at the very end of the hallway. I wish you a pleasant stay at our hotel. My associate will have your room key ready shortly.”
The what now? My eyes widen and my face breaks into a smile. It’s the first time I’m getting upgraded and oh my God, Max is going to hate me when I tell him!
“Thank you so much.” I take the brochures and documents he puts on the counter. Then he turns to the poor employee still subjected to the guy's fit of temper. I can't quite read her nametag, maybe June? He whispers something to her in French and she shoots him a grateful smile before switching places with him.
“Hello, Madame, I will get your room key ready for you, Madame,” she says sweetly, and I can’t help but grin. Julia. That’s what her name tag says.
She still seems rattled and while typing, she blinks away some tears. Poor girl.
A part of me feels vindicated that I’m not the only one whose day Mr. Rude ruined, but working a hotel reception must be a thankless job as it is, even without asshats like the guy next to me barging in. But André… he has a glint in his eye that makes me subtly listen in to their conversation while Julia types away to get my room key ready.
“Good day, Mr. Walker. My name is André and I am the manager. I will be taking over from my employee. What appears to be the problem?”
“One of your incompetent employees overbooked my fucking room category,” he spits and André nods in understanding, still with that pleasant yet eerily dead smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I understand. Luckily, a room in your category has just freed up.” Julia whips her head around to look at him shocked and André gives her a subtle wink.
“Oh, now it’s free? Then what was the problem five minutes ago? Maybe invest in some training before wasting people’s time.”
“It just freed up because the kind madame to your left has agreed to accept our upgrade to a suite with a view, freeing up the room under her name for you.” Mr. Rude, or Walker as I’d just learned by eavesdropping, whips his head around and glares at me, while I do my best to once again look anywhere but him. As much as I want to, and as much as I need to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from breaking into laughter, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. Yet.
But holy hell, if looks could kill, I’d drop to the floor like a particularly skilled stuntman in a Tom Cruise movie. André, meanwhile, clears his throat, probably to help him not laugh out loud either.
“An upgrade? Why wasn’t that offered to me?”
“Because you wouldn’t let our employee talk,” André says dryly, his customer service smile suddenly appearing a lot more genuine than before.
The asshat jumps into a mumbly tirade, feeling all kinds of wronged, his face turning redder with each mumbled curse. Who they are directed to? I have no idea.
Julia cannot contain her grin, so she faces the computer, away from the scene playing out. But you know what? I’ve waited for karma to strike ever since he ran me over. I’m going to enjoy the show now.
So, I turn and blatantly stare at the two of them, a wide smile on my face and arms crossed in front of my chest. This is hilarious.
“What the fuck’s so funny?” he snarls at me, and I cannot contain the hearty laughter that’s bubbling out of me.
“It’s okay, buddy, do you need to get your feelings out? I’m sure you’ll feel better after a good tantrum.” I grin, taking a step closer just to watch his eye twitch. “Want to stomp your foot too? Maybe throw a little customer service hotline on speaker?”
“Why the fuck are you calling me ‘buddy?’”
“Because you’re behaving like my friends two-year-old son and that’s what I call him.” I shrug and tilt my head. “Difference is, he usually gets a nap and a juice box when he’s done screaming.”
His mouth opens, probably to yell again, but I raise an eyebrow like I’m the one waiting for him to calm down.
“But hey, if you need help managing your big emotions, I’m sure André can round up some crayons for you.”
“Listen, what’s it to you? Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Hey, you’re the one who dragged me into this.” I shake my head with a disapproving frown. “I got the upgrade because I’m nice. But you? You run people over at train stations and can’t even manage to apologize and now you’re terrorizing staff for something that’s out of their hands.”
My smile is all sugar, but my glare gives his a run for its money. “So, since poor Julia and André can’t tell you what they’re really thinking, I am more than happy to take on that responsibility, jackass. Learn some damn manners.”
That seems to stun him into silence so I turn back to Julia as she hands over my room key along with some pamphlets on Parisian sights and what kind of activities they can help me book here at the reception. I find my wallet and make a generous donation to their tip jar, feeling the guy’s glare burning in the side of my head.
“Here you go, thanks for making my day,” I say, loud enough for him to hear every word. “Good luck with him,” I add in a mock whisper to André as I take off.
Passing Mr. Rude, I hold up my keycard and give him the brightest, sweetest smile I can muster up.
“And thank you for this, asshat.” I laugh heartily and make my way to the elevators, hoping I look as badass as I feel. And when the elevator doors close, I can still see his angry face as he stares after me, eyebrows scrunched and eyes narrowed, so I give him another sweet wave with my fingers.
God, I love karma.
The suite is way too big for one person, but hey, I’m not complaining. Maybe they should have given it to Mr. Rude, after all, he could have shared it with his ego, but just the image in my mind of him sharing a way smaller room with it brings a smile to my lips.
I can’t help but chuckle as I stretch out my arms and whirl around the room because there really is that much space.
A king-sized bed fills out the center of the room, or at least what I think is the center of the room from where I’m standing. When I walk closer, I realize there is way more room than I could see from the entrance.
The first thing that catches my eye is the bathroom. It’s spacious and I have a shower and a bathtub. Sweet! I know what I’ll be doing tonight!
Around the corner, there is a couch with a small table and an armchair tucked in one corner, facing the window with a spectacular view of the fancy neighborhood buildings.
I walk further in to discover another sitting corner with a table and two chairs, hidden behind a partial wall.
Right where you would look when laying in bed, a TV that seems wider than I am tall is mounted to the wall, the others decorated with tasteful images of flowers—in vases, in fields, a print of a Monet painting. This room just screams ‘fancy’.
But the best thing about this room? The balcony.
That’s what I’ve been the most excited about since André mentioned I’d have one.
I walk out there and gasp, then break into the biggest smile. The view is magnificent. I can see the Eiffel Tower perfectly through a gap between the buildings where a street cuts through.
I make a mental note to reserve one of my evenings for drinking some champagne out here and having some fancy snacks or pastries and sending pictures of me living my best wannabe influencer life to Max.
And who knows, maybe this upgrade will have the added bonus of making an asshole think about his actions twice the next time. Not that I have too much hope for him, but I have to be honest, his dumbstruck face when he heard about my upgrade is seared into my mind forever. If anyone asks me to tell them about my vacation, this will be the first and without a doubt the most enjoyable story I will share.
I’d have been perfectly fine letting karma do its thing without witnessing it. But oh boy, having witnessed it is the icing on the cake for me. It really turned my mood around.
I lay my suitcase on the ground and open it, sorting my stuff into the wardrobe and bathroom.
It’s barely noon but all the traveling, getting up early and having to deal with men , or well, one man in particular, are taking their toll on me. Maybe I should test out the giant bed, have a short nap so I’m awake and ready to find out what Max’s hype with the city is all about.