by T J Payne
But when the door of the limo opened and the soft evening light drifted in, Amy didn’t hear the roar of an engine or the churning of helicopter blades. Just birds calling in the distance. She heard the breeze stir itself around the rocky peaks. Her agitation from the long trip vanished and a serenity washed over her.
She climbed out of the limo and took in the building.
It stood higher than the tree line of the mountains, built precisely on the separation between the blooming, lively forest below and the stark, beautiful mountain summits above. The stones of the building’s walls seemed to absorb the sunlight, creating a dark, intimidating monolith on the natural surroundings.
Almost as an attempt to soften its powerful image, the front entrance was flooded with vibrant rose bushes, all tightly trimmed into perfect globes of color.
It was scary. It was strong.
But, oh, was it ever beautiful.
A team of bellhops, all wearing bright red vests, gathered the luggage from the trunk of the limo and trotted the bags and suitcases up the steps. Amy knew that her parents must be awed by the view because any other time, her dad would arm-wrestle the bellhops for the right to carry his own bag. Few things irritated him more than having to tip for a job that he could jolly-well do himself.
But Roger kept his lips sealed as his gaze roamed over the expansive scenery. Amy even saw him reach out and put his arm around Candice in a warm embrace. Candice nestled into his shoulder. It was the first public display of affection that Amy’s parents had shown in twenty years.
The sight made Amy smile.
It was then that the doorman, clad in a crimson vest, tipped his hat to them. “Welcome to The Venue,” he said.
CHAPTER 4
The front doors of The Venue opened into a large lobby.
Wooden furniture, stained and glossed with deep layers of varnish, dotted the area. Mounted up and down the ten foot walls were stuffed animal heads. Bears. Wolves. Elk. Large, scary beasts. Their dead eyes seemed to angle downward, staring at Amy and her family as they stepped across the stone floor.
The lobby bustled with movement.
Guests wandered up and down the grand staircase, wide-eyed as they explored the building. Various staff members, all wearing their signature red vests, moved around, performing their duties with precision. Some carried flowers and decorations. Others migrated through the crowd, offering refreshments.
A man in a crisp tuxedo at the front desk smiled warmly as Amy approached.
“Good afternoon. Welcome to The Venue,” he said in a slight accent that Amy thought sounded Eastern European. “I am the hotel manager. May I have your names please?”
“Holgate,” Amy said, pointing to herself and her parents. “Amy, Roger and Candice. And she’s Yamazaki, Mariko.”
“Thank you. One moment please.”
The manager clicked around at his computer.
“I shall need a photo I.D. for each of you, please.”
They reached into their bags — and in Candice’s case, the money belt that she kept tucked deep inside the front of her pants — and pulled out their passports. The manager inspected the photos and held the passports under a scanner.
“It will just be one moment,” the manager said.
***
The Event Planner kicked off her heels.
The Control Room was a tight space filled with computers and screens. The monitors received feeds from the cameras planted throughout The Venue. The Event Planner sat directly behind the two control operators.
Passport images tiled onto one of the operator’s screens:
A childhood friend of the groom…
The friend’s parents…
The friend’s plus-one.
The Event Planner sighed. The groom paid for four guests just so his middle school girlfriend could attend? Whatever. It was his money.
Alongside the passport photos, security camera images of the guests’ faces appeared. Each one flashed a green check-mark. Identity Matched. Good. On rare occasion, a guest might RSVP for a particular plus-one and then change their mind and try to substitute another plus-one at the last minute. That always led to a scramble on The Venue’s part.
So far, Caleb and Lilith’s guests were well-behaved and followed their instructions. And, as the bride and groom had stated, they were all a bunch of nobodies. This was shaping up to be an easy event.
Hopefully, the cleanup would be just as simple.
“Guests’ identities have been confirmed,” one of the operators said, reading from his list:
“Guest Forty-Five — Amy Holgate”
“Guest Forty-Six — Mariko Yamazaki”
“Guest Forty-Seven — Candice Holgate”
“Guest Forty-Eight — Roger Holgate”
“Check-in complete.”
***
The manager smiled at Amy and her family.
“Thank you for your patience. Your reservation has been confirmed,” the manager said as he handed them back their passports. “Being a relaxation resort, we encourage our guests to disconnect from society. With that in mind, we do require that all mobile phones, devices, and cameras be checked in at this time.”
“Wait, what?” Amy said.
The manager maintained his smile and motioned to a sign that hung over his desk that read, “Please respect the serenity. No mobile phones or cameras allowed.”
“Your devices will be safe. They will be returned to you upon your departure.”
“I don’t understand,” Amy said. “It’s not like we get service here. I haven’t gotten a bar since we got on the plane.”
“This is a very exclusive resort. The owners try diligently to prevent photos of it, and the events we host here, from appearing on social media. We like to keep our events private. We have professional photographers who will take photos of you and your party at the wedding. Prints and digital copies will be provided to you free of charge.”
Amy looked over at her parents and Mariko. They all seemed to be holding a debate with their eyes. Who was going to hand over their phone first, and who was going to say hell no?
“Believe me, I understand how hard it can be. All of my staff adhere to the same restrictions. I’m sorry but this is the official policy of The Venue and is nonnegotiable.”
Surprisingly, it was Candice who broke first. She sighed and said, “Rules are rules.” Then, she reached into her bag, pulled out her phone and tablet, and set them on the counter.
Everyone else followed along.
The manager delicately placed all of the electronics in a metal box. “We will keep these very safe,” he said. “We take our guests’ privacy seriously.”
The manager closed the lid on the metal bin.
“And now, your room keys,” the manager said, flashing his wide smile again.
From some hidden rack beneath his desk, he pulled out four black bracelets. Each bracelet had a claspable strap and digital watch-face, making it about the size of a standard smartwatch.
The manager held the bracelets out.
“These will act as your keys. They grant access to your room as well as The Venue’s many amenities. You can remove them whenever you so desire, but we do request that you wear them any time you are out and about, enjoying The Venue. They are waterproof, scratchproof and impact resistant. You can wear them in the pool or in the shower. They will also serve as your admittance to the wedding festivities. We take wedding crashing very seriously.”
They took hold of the bracelets and inspected them.
The thought nibbled at the back of Amy’s mind that they had just been required to hand over all of their technology to honor The Venue’s quaint atmosphere and yet, instead of room keys, they were being asked to use a fancy electronic bracelet.
“Oh, and I should mention that these key bracelets also grant you access to all the open bars, The Venue’s café, and The Venue’s restaurant,” the manager said. “As long as you have those on you, all food and drink are com
plimentary, courtesy of your hosts, Caleb and Lilith Hunt.”
“Score!” Mariko said as she put the bracelet onto her wrist.
Candice and Roger quickly followed.
Finally, Amy strapped hers on as well.
“Excellent. Your check-in is now complete. You will be shown to your rooms. Enjoy your stay at The Venue.”
He rang a small bell on his desk. Immediately, four bellhops grabbed the family’s luggage and carried it up the grand staircase — a wide, twisting structure of stone steps that wrapped around behind the front desk.
The family followed behind.
The bellhops exited the staircase at the second level and proceeded down a well-lit hallway lined with numbered rooms. The wood trim and crown molding softened the dungeon-like stone walls. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, making the hallway bright and welcoming.
One of the room doors opened. Amy made eye-contact with the middle-aged man and woman who stepped out into the hallway.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hunt! How are you?” Amy said to the couple.
“Amy, dear. Hello,” Mrs. Hunt said, drunkenly swaying on her feet ever-so-slightly. As long as Amy could remember, Mrs. Hunt was always teetering and slurring her words.
“You’re looking fit,” Mr. Hunt said. His own heavy drinking seemed to have unmoored his eyes. They roamed over Amy’s body. She cringed.
“Have you ever seen a wedding this nice?” Mrs. Hunt said. “I said, ‘Caleb, you’re going to blow your whole retirement on this one weekend,’ and he said, ‘Mom, do you know how much money I have?’ And, honest-to-goodness, I truly have no idea how much he makes; he’s doing so well. I’m so proud of him.”
“You should be,” Candice said.
“And how are you, Amy?” Mrs. Hunt said.
“Good.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. I got worried when I heard you were a dancer or something.”
“I am.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hunt burped. “Well, you have plenty of time to find yourself, dear.”
“If you’re looking for a real career, talk to Caleb,” Mr. Hunt said. “This is why we didn’t hand out participation trophies. If Caleb had gotten his way, he’d have gone to art school, or some fruity thing like that. You gotta push your kids. Right, Rog?” He elbowed Amy’s dad hard in the arm.
Roger didn’t react. He just zoned out and stared ahead.
“Anyway, we need to settle in,” Amy said, glancing at the bellhops who waited patiently.
“Of course, of course. Treat yourself to some luxury,” Mrs. Hunt said. “People like you deserve it most. It was so nice to see you all.”
And with that, Caleb’s parents turned and stumbled off down the hallway.
“Charming people,” Mariko said as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Assholes,” Roger muttered.
“Be nice,” Candice said.
The family turned and followed the bellhops.
“Your bracelets are your room keys,” the head bellhop said, stopping at one of the doors. “Rooms 103 and 105.”
Candice held her bracelet against the magnetic pad at the room door. Ding! — it unlocked and swung open. She couldn’t help but giggle.
As the bellhops carried the luggage in, Roger made a show of searching his pockets. More than once, Amy had sought out a service worker in order to supplement her dad’s meager tipping habit. He was a good, honest, kind man. But boy, was he cheap.
“I, uh, didn’t have time to exchange any U.S. dollars,” Roger said. “If I can find an ATM, I could—”
“It is quite alright, sir,” the head bellhop said. “We are not allowed to accept tips. Your host and hostess have already paid all gratuities”
“Oh. That’s nice of them,” Roger said, relief flashing across his face.
And with that, her parents disappeared into their room, closing the door behind them.
Amy turned and pressed her own bracelet to the door of the adjacent room. It swung open. The bellhops carried the suitcases inside and deposited them on racks.
“Please let us know if there is anything that can make your stay more comfortable,” the head bellhop said, tipping his hat as he walked back out.
He then led his team to the end of the hallway, stopping at a door marked “Staff Only.” He held his own red bracelet to the plate beside the door which beeped and then swung open.
Amy watched as the crew disappeared into the hallway beyond.
Then she turned and stepped into her room.
CHAPTER 5
The actual hotel room was a letdown. It was relatively small. There was no TV, no amenities. Just some bottled water and chocolate bars on the night stand. All were complimentary, of course.
Even the view, which Amy had been looking forward to, wasn’t particularly impressive. Iron bars mounted on the outside of the window threw their shadows into the room, creating a cross-hatch pattern in the orange glow of the setting sun.
It made her feel as though she were in a prison, filling Amy with a sudden, overwhelming urge to leave.
“I’m gonna see if I can get a roll-away bed or something,” she said.
“What? Why? It’s a queen. We’ll just share.”
She didn’t look Mariko in the eye, but she knew the face Mariko must be making — head cocked to the side and mouth slightly open to release a single, silent, exasperated sigh. The same look Mariko had when Amy insisted on paying for dinner, despite them both knowing that she had crippling credit card debt. The look that said You’re being silly, Ames.
“It’s fine. I wanna walk around anyway.”
Before Mariko could respond, Amy walked out the door.
She wandered back down the grand staircase.
The noise level of the lobby had increased dramatically since her group had arrived. The boisterous conversations of guests echoed around the stone walls.
Amy rounded a corner and stood on the edge of the stairs, peering down into the lobby. There was now a bottleneck at check-in. Dozens of people, exhausted from travel, stood in line.
Waiters migrated among the tired guests, offering spa water, champagne, and hors d’oeuvres. It did little to placate them. The entire line was being held up by a wiry, middle-aged man in a track suit whose veins bulged on his bald head and red face as he fought with the manager.
“What if someone tries to call or email me?” the man said.
The manager replied in a pleasant voice, “Unfortunately, there is no mobile service or internet access here, and so I am afraid—”
“I’m not giving you my phone.”
“I am sorry, sir, but the rules state—”
“I got movies and books loaded on this. What the hell else am I supposed to do here? Someone should have put this rule on the website when I booked this trip!”
The people in the line behind the man groaned and muttered to each other. This argument had apparently gone in circles for a while.
Amy watched the interaction.
There was something about the man’s voice… something familiar.
Amy tried to place it. She recognized that man. The voice, the face, the wiry frame, and most of all, the intensity in the way he spoke. As a memory formed on the tip of her brain—
“Hi, Ames.”
The voice, so close behind her, made her jump.
She swung around.
There stood Caleb.
He seemed taller than she remembered. Or maybe it was his frame. As a kid, he had always been on the heavier side. He wasn’t an obese child, or anything, but he always had a round, full face and a stocky build. Amy’s mom often commented that little Caleb looked like a cherub, a sort of Cupid who never shed his rolls of baby fat. Candice, of course, meant it as a compliment, but it was never received as such.
The person who stood before Amy now, however, was hardly that same person. Those fat rolls had been carved into muscles, the contours of which could be seen pushing against the light blue t-shirt that tightly hugged his body. His rou
nd face had found cheekbones and a jawline. His chest bulged out, pulling the shirt away from what Amy could only assume was a tight stomach.
She gazed at his sculpted body, impressed by every inch of him.
Until her gaze reached his eyes.
They looked down at her but didn’t seem to quite focus on her face. He seemed to be looking through and past her, staring more at some speck in his memory than at the woman in front of him.
He smiled. But the smile on that face wasn’t the one Amy remembered seeing so often from childhood. Caleb’s face used to glow when he smiled. His toothy grin would merge into dimples that were so big that he had to partially shut his eyes to accommodate them. His nose would twist up and a joyful snort would sometimes escape.
When they were kids, Amy saw that smile often. She saw it when they had squirt-gun fights. She saw it when he’d beat her at tic-tac-toe with sidewalk chalk. She saw it when they played Street Fighter. She saw it when they watched The Burbs. She saw it every time he answered the door and saw her there, ready to go play.
She saw it less and less as elementary school turned to middle school turned to high school. By now, she couldn’t remember when she last saw that smile.
Amy definitely didn’t see that smile today.
This smile was strained. Pulled tight. Depending on the context, Amy would struggle to differentiate this smile from a grimace.
“Hey, man! Good to see you,” Amy said after collecting herself. “Congratulations,” she tacked on, trying to fend off another silence before it could overtake them.
She opened her arms for a friendly hug.
Caleb recoiled and took a step back up the stairs, putting space between them. “I’d better not,” he said, motioning to her outstretched arms. “I’m in a committed relationship with Lilith.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Amy said, dropping her arms. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I see you brought a friend as your plus-one,” Caleb interrupted. His eyes seemed to finally zero in on her and were now probing her, as a robot might. “I was hoping you’d bring your husband. Or boyfriend.”