Chapter Ten - Lucky
CHAPTER TEN
It’s impressive how quickly six words can ruin your mood.
My head is throbbing, and my legs aren’t much happier thanks to being folded up like a jack-in-the-box for the majority of the day, and as the woman behind the counter gives us a sympathetic frown, I let out a deep groan. “What kind of problem?”
“What?” Becca squeaks, her eyes going wide. “How is that possible?”
“Ma’am,” I say, mustering up a smile even though annoyance is surging through me. “There must be some mistake.” I glance at her name tag. “Linda, you have to help us out here.”
“I wish I could,” Linda replies. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” She consults her computer one more time. “It looks like the other rooms under that reservation block were already claimed a few hours ago.”
Becca lets out a moan, putting her head down on the counter. “Stupid car. Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she murmurs.
“Do you have any other rooms available?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as pleasant as possible. “We’ll literally take anything. Whatever you have, a closet even.”
“I’m sorry. We’ve been pre-booked for months.” Linda waves a hand, indicating the busy lobby. “It’s festival season.”
“Right,” I say with a nod, trying to keep my cool. “What are the odds that any of the other hotels in the area will have rooms?”
“Slim to none, I’m afraid. You can certainly check, but I would assume they, like us, are all booked and have been for some time now.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I’m not opposed to roughing it from time to time, but sleeping all crunched up in the Metro is about as appealing as that time I jumped into a half-frozen lake during a blizzard wearing nothing but a baseball hat and a smile.
“Okay, then. Thanks for your help.”
I turn to Becca. The frustration is clear on her face.
“What should we do? Call the Starlight people?” she asks. “Maybe Tony’s around here somewhere?”
“They’re not allowed to film us when we go to sleep and stuff, so I don’t think Tony is hanging around.
Besides, remember what Dozer said before the first challenge?
The team who wins the Challenge needs to be able to adapt to any situation and deal with whatever problems pop up along the way.
I don’t think us calling the producers to complain will win us any favors.
It looks like it’s me, you, and Bertha tonight. Let’s hope the seats recline.”
“Both that idea and the name are horrible. What are the other options?”
I look around the crowded lobby. “None, I’m afraid.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose as the hammering in my head starts to increase. Jake warned me that residual headaches would be a thing for a while, but that doesn’t help my nerves. The bright lights of the lobby don’t help either.
“You okay?” Becca asks, her voice changing slightly from angry to concerned.
I open my eyes and blink a few times before responding. “Just a headache,” I say, trying not to make a big deal of it—for most people, a headache isn’t a big deal. But for me, headaches are reminders, and I don’t like reminders. “I’m good.”
Becca glances around the lobby. There are a few small couches that are currently occupied, but her eyes narrow on them as she says, “Think we could sleep here?”
“I doubt it, Holly G.”
“Well, this is great, just freaking great.” She turns on her heel and begins stomping towards the door.
“Tell me about it,” I murmur, moving to follow her.
“Wait, just a second,” the woman behind the counter calls out. Becca passes through the automatic doors without stopping, but I turn around. “Did you say you’re here for the festival?”
“No, we’re here for a competition, but essentially just passing through.”
She must see something on my face that makes her feel sorry for me because she waves me closer.
“Listen, I don’t normally do this but . .
. I have a friend who lives not too far from here.
She rents a room in her house to travelers, like an Airbnb.
I heard her mention earlier that she had a cancellation.
I could give her a call if you want? See if the room is still available? ”
I’m tempted to leap across the counter and kiss her. “That would be incredible. Thank you so much, ma’am!”
I wait, rising up and down on my toes, stretching my calf muscles as Linda makes the call.
She’s smiling when she comes back over to me.
“You’re in luck! The room is still available.
” She pulls a Post-it off the pad in front of her and jots down the address.
“It’s about two miles outside the city center. ”
I take the Post-it and give her a big smile. “Seriously, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, enjoy your stay in Roswell!”
I practically skip back out to the parking lot. Becca has the car running, but her head is drooped over the steering wheel, and her eyes are shut. I fling open my door and jump into my seat. “Hey! Guess what?”
She pops upright immediately, arms flailing and eyes wide. “Argh!” She shouts, swiping at me.
“Whoa, whoa!” I yell back, dodging her karate chop hands. “It’s me!”
“Geez!” She stills in her seat, her hair all mussed up around her face. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”
“You’re quite the little ninja, ya know that? What are you, a black belt?”
She purses her lips. “No, but I graduated from the school of Jackie Chan movies. Does that count?”
“It counts.” I hand her the Post-it. “I have good news. I was able to sweet-talk the lady behind the counter. This is an address for an Airbnb. She already called for us.”
“You sweet-talked her?”
The look Becca is giving me, totally calling my bluff makes me laugh. “Okay, fine. I think she just felt sorry for us. But either way, we’ve got somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“Oh, thank god,” Becca says, slumping back against her seat. “Sleeping in the car would have been miserable.”
I grimace at the thought. “Agreed. I think I’d rather sleep outside than sleep in here.”
Becca’s shoulders give a little shudder at the thought. “Agreed.”
It doesn’t take long for us to make it to the address on the Post-it. The house is small and mostly dark, save for a bright porch light that bathes the front of the house in a soft yellow glow.
We park and step quietly out of the car. As soon as we hit the landing, the front door creaks open and a little old lady with gray hair up in curlers and a bathrobe greets us with a smile. “You must be the tourists Linda sent my way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m Lucky, and this is Becca.”
“I’m Jan. Welcome to my home.” She shakes my hand and beckons us forward. “Right this way. Let me show you the room.”
We walk down a small hallway and into the main living room.
It’s covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and several brightly colored pieces of art.
There’s a fat, orange tabby cat lounging in one of the reading chairs, and an old dog with a graying face is curled up on the rug in front of the bookcases.
“Don’t mind Tomasina and Mr. Hemingway,” she says, leading us to our room. “They’re very friendly with strangers.”
I’m a huge dog person, and I’m tempted to drop to a knee and bury my face in Mr. Hemingway’s soft, golden fur, but I refrain. Becca, however, dashes over and gives Tomasina a quick scratch between the ears. “Huh,” I mutter. I’m a dog person, and she’s a cat person. “Why does that not surprise me?”
Jan opens the door to a room at the end of a small hallway.
She reaches in and turns the light on, illuminating a small but comfortable space with a queen size bed.
A stack of fresh towels sits in the corner, as well as a small basket of snacks, mini bottles of water, a pair of alien koozies, and a little sign that reads, Welcome to Roswell!
“The rate is 200 dollars a night,” Jan turns to face us. “How long will you be planning to stay?”
“Just the one night,” I say, digging into my pocket for my wallet.
“Or maybe two?” Becca says at my elbow. “We don’t know if we’ll be able to check into the hotel tomorrow.”
“Good point.” I pay Jan enough for two evenings.
“I’ll Venmo you,” Becca whispers.
“No worries, Holly G. I’m just glad we found a place.” I refocus on Jan. “We promise we won’t be any trouble.”
“I appreciate that,” Jan narrows her eyes, studying me, before flicking over to Becca. “I warn you, though. The walls are very thin, and I’m a light sleeper.”
The words don’t register with me right out, but Becca lets out a laugh.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not—”
“Nonsense, dear,” Jane sweeps a hand across her forehead, cutting her off. “I was young once, and I remember all too well the thrill of young love.”
She grins widely. “And with a young man as cute as this,” she reaches up and taps my cheek in a grandmotherly fashion. “I can’t say I blame you. However, I do need a solid eight to ten hours, so if you could just keep it down, I’d appreciate it.”
Becca blinks, caught off guard, her mouth parting slightly.
I can’t resist the opportunity, so I throw my arm around her shoulder and grin wickedly at Jan. “Don’t worry, Jan,” I say, “we’ll try to keep things to a low roar.”
I pull Becca closer, tucking her into my side. “Won’t we, babe?”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but I can’t help but notice how perfectly she fits next to me, how the heat of her body presses into mine and warms my skin.
I’m expecting an eyeroll or a glare and I just know she’s going to shove me off of her at any second, but when Becca’s eyes meet mine, it’s like all the breath in my lungs evaporates.
It isn’t annoyance shining in her emerald green eyes, it’s something softer, something unexpected. It shoots through me like a rocket, and all I can think about is how much I like the way she’s looking at me.
I clear my throat, aware of Jan’s curious stare.
“Uh, won’t we, babe?” I repeat, but the words come out all breathy.
Becca breaks eye contact first, and I hate how deflated it makes me feel.