by Mysti Parker
Episode #9: Spectral Intervention
Being off for the past two days has spoiled me. Especially since I’ve spent those two days with Henry. I pull into the hotel parking lot at 6:58AM. Susan asked me to come in this morning to learn how to work the day shift. I’m not sure why I need additional training. We have maybe two guests to check out. But, I don’t argue. It means I’ll have another date with Henry tonight.
It feels strange to be emerging in daylight after working vampire hours. I really don’t relish being alone with Carol and her stiff Aqua-net perm, either. Thank God for coffee and donuts.
By 10:00 AM, our two guests are long gone. The Muzak is pouring out its soul with a Michael Bolton song, and the only phone call we’ve had is Mrs. Gonsalves calling in sick. Jerry walks by with her cart, off to clean in her stead. He gives Carol a wink as he passes. Or at least I think it was a wink, from the way his bushy eyebrow moves.
Carol shudders as he disappears down the hall. She walks right up to me, stopping about six inches from my face. “Ugh, how can you stand being alone here with him at night?” From the smell of her breath hitting my nose, I can tell she’s had cereal this morning for breakfast—Fruity Pebbles, with a side of hard-boiled egg.
I turn my head slightly so I can catch a breath of fresh air. “He’s a good guy. Very intelligent. Retired from the army, even spent time in some kind of psychological special ops forces. He’s also a computer wiz.”
Her eyes widen, and she stares toward the hall. “Really? I had no idea. I can barely understand him when he talks.”
“It takes practice.” I feel like a certified Sasquatch language expert.
Carol and I clean up the breakfast area since Mrs. Gonsalves isn’t here, and her “ghost” apparently doesn’t do dishes.
“I can’t believe Henry the Donut Guy isn’t gay!” Carol says, wiping crumbs from the empty pastry cabinet. “I mean, I flirted with him, and he didn’t flirt back.”
“Maybe he was engaged at the time.” Or maybe he doesn’t like a woman surrounded by a cloud of hairspray. I don’t say this, of course, but I keep my distance over by the cereal bar so I can breathe.
Carol laughs and shakes her head. Her dangly earrings jingle like wind chimes. “I guess I should be glad you snagged him. How was your date?”
“Dates, you mean?” I can’t keep from smiling.
She glares through her false eyelashes and tackles the coffee carafes, tucking them under each arm as she heads to the kitchen. “Ok, your dates, then. Where’d you go?”
“Wednesday night, we went to the movies.”
“Yeah?” she hollers over the sound of running water from the kitchen. “What’d you see?”
“A superhero flick. I can’t remember the name.”
I do recall Henry putting his arm around me and feeding me popcorn. I devoured most of it like a Pavlovian dog, but it was his fault. He started with popping a couple kernels in my mouth during the previews and followed it up with a kiss. How could I not want more of that?
Cabinet doors bang from the kitchen, followed by Carol’s next question. “And last night?”
“He brought me to his family’s donut shop and gave me a donut-making lesson.”
Carol strolls from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel. She tosses it into the garbage. “That sounds fun, though to be honest, I don’t really like their donuts.”
She dissed my boyfriend’s business, but I ignore it and instead remember him standing behind me, showing me how to use the donut cutter. We were like Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze with our hands moving together in the sticky dough. Luckily his mom and dad weren’t there. I’m not ready to meet them yet.
Boyfriend. That’s how I’ve started to think of Henry. Is that crazy? Am I rushing things?
I guess he kind of is my boyfriend now, though I didn’t ask him to stay when he brought me back to my apartment last night. Thankfully, he didn’t ask, or I would have woken up with him this morning. I’m starting to regret that choice, considering I spent most of the night thinking about how he would feel without those tight jeans. But, it’s still too soon.
The hotel phone rings. “I’ll get it,” I say, and take my time reaching the front desk. No reason to hurry, since it’s probably a wrong number or a telemarketer. When I get to the phone, two red lights blink at me from the console. “We have two calls!”
“Wow! Let me have the other one, please. It’s so dull around here.” She scoots behind the front desk as fast as her tan uniform skirt will allow.
I pick up the phone. “Thanks for calling the Roche Hotel. This is Jane. How may I help you?”
“We need a reservation for Halloween night.”
“OK, for how many people?”
“Two, and we want the ghost room.”
The receiver slips from my hand, but I catch it before it hits the desktop. After one calming breath, I say, “Pardon?’
“The ghost room—the one that guy died in. We heard it’s haunted now, and we want to stay and see if we can stir up a ghost.”
“Um…” I put my palm over the mouthpiece of the receiver and look to Carol for help. But she’s busy with whoever is on the other end of her line.
What to do…? Mrs. Roche chased off the ghost hunters that came a couple nights ago. She even threatened Mr. Smythe with everything but castration should he keep pursuing the ghost angle. But, here was a potential guest, a real live human who wanted to pay for a room.
“Sure,” I say, deciding business comes first. Money coming in means a steady job for me, after all. “Room 12, and for how many nights?”
Turns out Carol’s caller requested the same room on the same night, but she gave him the one next door since I’d beat her to the sale.
The phone rings every ten minutes, and is still lighting up when Susan Smythe arrives at noon in a smart baby blue skirt and matching blazer. She’s been glum, and rightly so, ever since business slowed after the dead guy was found. I wave her over, and she wanders to the front desk. Carol answers another call, and I’ve got one caller on hold.
“You’ll never believe what’s happened,” I say. “We’re almost completely booked.”
“You’re kidding! How?”
“Everyone wants to see the ghost.”
“No way! I’ve got to call Richie!” She’s stunned, like I’ve just told her she’s won the lottery.
She runs into the office to call Richard while Carol and I keep answering the phones. We’re completely booked by 2:00PM. To celebrate the good luck brought about by our spectral resident, Susan and Richard order pizza for us. We sit at a table in the breakfast area, munching away on cheesy, greasy goodness.
“Halloween’s in one week,” Susan says. “You know what this means.”
I shake my head.
“The Roche Hotel will host a Halloween costume party!”
“Sounds like fun.” Not what I was expecting, but I never was a girl to turn down a party.
Richard sighs, dabbing his forehead with a paper napkin. “I can only imagine what Mrs. Roche will say.”
“Oh, forget her, Richie. This is our hotel now, and besides, she should be happy we’ve gotten so much business, no matter how it came about.”
He smiles and squeezes Susan’s hand. “You’re right, darling. If you want a party, then a party is what you’ll get.”
I text Henry as soon as I can:
Halloween costume party here at the hotel—care to be my date?
He texts back:
Sure, but who will we be?
Why, Henry VIII and Jane Seymour, of course!
Wouldn’t miss it. Love you.
I stare at those last two words, but I don’t return the text. Jane may have been Henry’s true love, but she died giving him what he wanted. So I take the safe route and whisper instead: “Love you too.”