Chapter 24 Tessa #3
As I stood there, dying, the room’s phone rang. I ignored it the first time. Then it rang again. Six times. Silence. Again. Five trills. Silence. The sixth time it rang, I moved quickly to it and picked up the receiver.
“You’ve got the wrong—”
But I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Ah, Miss Fortune. I can tell it’s you by your voice. Such a lovely voice.” The speaker on the other line sounded familiar, but I was so hot and tired and emotionally drained that it didn’t click.
“How do you know my name?” I fanned myself with my hand. The symptoms flash was calming, my body re-regulating. If I were smart, I’d leave tomorrow and save the rest of my cash. That way, when I actually went into my heart, I could pay to stay again.
“It’s Beta Love.” How had I not recognized his very distinct, brutally happy voice?
“Oh, okay. How did you know I was—” I stopped the question, because I knew how he’d known to find me here. I’d said the shelter or this crap motel. “Right, the extra compensation.”
“It’s even better than that, Miss Fortune. I’m just so, so thrilled for you. It’s a top match.” He sort of sang the words, as if it was the best news in the world.
“I don’t know what that means. Can I make more money?” I felt sick even asking. As if I hadn’t been through enough torture, I was ready to do it again for a little cash. What would my family think of me?
“Much, much more than that, Miss Fortune. Now that I’ve verified it’s you, everything will be put in order.”
God, I could hear his stupid grin through the phone. He really was the perfect person to represent the Cupid Company division.
“What do you mean put in order?” My brain was so tired. Everything was spinning.
“Don’t worry your pretty head, Miss Fortune. I wish you the very, very best. I’m really so excited for you. Goodbye!” Beta Love hung up before I could ask another clarifying question.
Bizarre. Everything was so damn strange.
Feeling a bit better, I propped up the pillows Josie wasn’t using, and I turned on the vintage television. I had to flip through thirty or so channels before I found one that came through clearly. Game shows. Not exactly my cup of tea, but it was mindless fun.
I heard growing voices in the hallway about an hour later. I ignored it, assuming they were other guests.
But then the knock came. After what happened with Sister Grant, and knowing the motel didn’t allow pets either, I put Josie quickly in the briefcase and slung it over my shoulder for safekeeping.
I hadn’t taken off the shoes, mostly because Lily had practically taped them to my skin because of their design leaving so many gaps.
Another knock, harder and louder.
“Who is it?” I squeaked out.
“Miss Fortune, please open the door.” The voice was from someone who expected to be obeyed. I tiptoed to the exit and peered through the tiny peephole. Two men dressed in black. Behind them cowering was the hotel clerk who’d checked me in.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“Product Collection Agents.” The smaller of the two answered, then held an identification badge up for me to see. It looked official. His face matched the photo. His name was insanely long, and I had no idea how to say it. It was the company logo that made me want to vomit though.
That name. Bold letters. An arrow beneath.
“Product collection?” I tried to keep my voice level, but it inevitably cracked and squeaked as fear flooded my senses.
“Legally, you have to come with us, Miss Fortune.” This from the larger Beta. “It’s in the contract.”
This was not the same thing as contacting me for further compensation or opportunities.
“Okay, let me use the bathroom first.” I bought myself some time.
I whirled around, searching for another exit.
The motel was two stories, and I was thankfully on the ground floor.
I raced over to the window mounted above the squat AC unit.
Flinging open the curtains, layers of dust powdering into the air, I desperately searched for a latch.
It was at the middle of the double panes, one side of the window inset deeper, the other closer.
A slider. I popped up the latch and pushed.
Nothing happened. Heart pounding, I looked for the problem.
At the very top, a metal dowel with blunt, square end caps had been pushed into the rail, preventing the egress from opening.
I scrambled atop the air unit, which still blew cold air that sent a chill through me.
I squeaked as the AC unit wobbled, but I kept going.
If I broke it, then I broke it. It took precious seconds to dislodge the pole because it was purposefully locked in place.
I had to jam my fingers between it and the top of the frame, pulling down with all my might.
Finally, it protested and popped out. The AC unit shook beneath me, but it stayed rooted to the wall.
Sliding the window open quickly, I pushed the screen outward before scrambling through.
I tumbled onto landscaping stone surrounding sad, half-dead bushes.
I cried out as sharp rocks cut through my pant legs and sliced tender skin.
The jacket tore. My palms ached as I pushed myself to standing.
Josie meowed unhappily. I’d managed not to crush the briefcase. My pain didn’t matter. Hers did.
I started running as the collection agents began knocking and yelling again, this time with more urgency.