Pierce
“Is that your hotel?” I ask Thea.
She jumps almost as if she forgot I was there, blinking rapidly as she looks up the bustling sidewalk to where I’m pointing. The Flamingo Resort.
Her forehead scrunches as she studies the hotel, then the cafe across the street where indeed, a parrot sits beside the front door rating pedestrians.
“Yes?” she says, completely lacking conviction.
I can’t tell if she is a ditz or something more dangerous. A con artist?
She could be playing me. Who winds up in Mexico and forgets where they are staying? She claims she was tired and broken-hearted, but is that really enough to excuse this total lack of common sense?
I open the large front door for Thea, who steps inside, eyes wide as if seeing everything for the first time. How did she make it in last night without remembering a thing?
No doubt she was drunk. People should really be more responsible with their alcohol.
I peer at my watch. It’s seven thirty—a half hour past my meeting time. I need to check in with Mr. Smith and hope he didn’t get spooked for good.
“I need to contact someone. Why don’t you talk to the concierge and see if she remembers a broken-hearted blonde stumbling in last night?” I motion to the line at the concierge desk.
Thea raises an unamused brow. “I assume you mean me?”
I skim the lobby. “I don’t see any other blondes.”
“Either you have a terrible sense of humor, or you enjoy being rude.”
I shrug. It could honestly be both. I head for a distant spot in the lobby to get some privacy.
“Wait!” Thea calls, rushing after me.
I stop. The woman is relentless.
“What if they don’t believe me and they kick me out and—”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off, and notice my hand is bigger than her head. “I feel like Shrek, and you’re the helpless donkey.”
She slaps my hand away so her face is in view. It’s not a bad view as far as views go. “Did you just call me a donkey?”
I lift a shoulder, trying to gauge how offensive she found that? Enough to get her to find her own way home? “I called myself an ogre.”
Her expression turns thoughtful instead of bothered, like I want her to be. “So you see yourself as a repulsive loner and better off without other people.”
Well…yes. But she doesn’t have to be so rude about it. “Maybe I just see you as a pain in the a—”
A child screams, finishing my sentiment.
“Keep sweet talking me and I may confuse you for Prince Charming,” Thea retorts, tucking her hair behind her ears. She’s wearing two different earrings. One is a circular hoop, the other an oval.
“Just go.” I say, far gruffer than intended.
“But…” Her eyes well up like liquid guilt. “You won’t leave until I find my room, right?”
“I won’t leave.” Yet. My leg bounces with pent-up tension as I mentally consider all the what-ifs going wrong with this deal. I’ve never not come through on a job before. I sign contracts and I get them done. People hire me because I’m reliable.
“You pinky promise?” She extends a pinky to me. She might as well have offered me a nuclear bomb.
“I’m not doing that.”
Her lips purse as she rises on her toes to study me. The effect is weirdly alarming. “Are you scared of pinkies or human connection?”
“Both. Now, stay.” I pat her head as if it might help.
This time she does just that, her feet locked in place as I head for my designated spot. I turn back once more to ensure she isn’t following me and continue confidently, letting out a deep breath.
Finally, a moment of peace.
I open my email first, hoping for a message from Mr. Smith. There isn’t one. I send a quick message, apologizing and offering a new meeting spot for tomorrow morning. Then I get online and cancel my flight.
Never has a transfer gone as horribly wrong as tonight’s has. It’s not the payment that stresses me out. It’s the contenders after the drive. If someone tracked Mr. Smith here, they could be after him… or me. I’m already supposed to be on the move.
There’s just one problem standing in the way of that, and it’s the woman currently sobbing to the concierge. From my vantage point, the concierge won’t be budging.
I roll my shoulders back, preparing to rescue her once again.
A housekeeper comes bustling through the lobby, arms laden with towels for the pool, and I step into her path just in time.
One problem solved.