Jake Me

by Sabrina Stark

I gave him a pleading look. "But they can't really want you camping out here."

  "Who says they know?" Anthony said.

  Well, this was just great. "You mean you're staying here in secret?"

  "It's more of a 'don't ask, don't tell,'" Anthony said. "It's not like we sit around roasting marshmallows outside or anything."

  "But where do you shower?" I gave them a good, long look. "You do shower, right?"

  "Well that's where it gets tricky," Anthony said.

  I didn't probe him for details, because at this point, I didn't really want to know. So instead, I finished my lunch and spent the rest of the day hunkered down in the top bunk, using my smart phone to look for a new job.

  The way it looked, I needed money. And fast.

  Chapter 14

  Early the next morning, I picked my way through the outskirts of the construction zone, trying to keep a low profile. The effort was probably a total waste. Not only did I look nothing like your average construction worker, but at least half the guys probably recognized me from yesterday's spectacle.

  Images from the previous afternoon flashed across my brain. In my memories, I saw Maddie, then Jake, and then, for a grand finale, my underpants strewn across the pavement. I lifted my gaze to the far-off trash can, where those items probably remained.

  Stupidly, I never had the heart – or the stomach – to retrieve them. So now, on top of all my other problems, I was seriously short of undergarments, among other things.

  Like clean bathrooms.

  And my sanity.

  Moving faster, I kept my head down as I made a beeline toward the sidewalk just outside the construction area. I was dressed in the nicest clothes I had – the same black skirt and white blouse I'd been wearing Saturday morning when Jake had swooped me up from Maddie's apartment.

  I needed a bathroom in the worst possible way, and there was no way in hell that I was braving those porta-potties again.

  Exiting the fenced construction area, I walked casually along the sidewalk, waiting for a gap in the traffic. At the first opportunity, I made a quick dash across the street, heading toward the hotel's main entrance. Once there, I took a deep breath and strolled through the glass double doors, trying like hell to look like I belonged there.

  Manning the front desk was a severe-looking woman around my mom's age. She wore dark-rimmed spectacles and a tan blazer. Her shiny blond hair was pulled back in a bun so tight it looked nearly painful.

  I gave her a casual wave as I made my way toward the rear of the lobby, searching for the hallway that my brothers had described. At the snack machines, I stopped, perplexed to find myself at a dead-end. There was supposed to be a door. Where on Earth was it?

  Behind me, I heard a crisp female voice, laced with an upscale accent, say, "Can I help you?"

  I whirled around, and there she was, the lady from the front desk. She was standing within arm's reach, giving me the hairy eyeball.

  "Uh, yes," I said. "Could you point me to the restrooms?"

  She crossed her arms. "Sorry, they're for customers only."

  I stared at her. "Well maybe I am a customer."

  "Or maybe," she said, glancing toward the construction zone, "you snuck in from across the street and thought I wouldn't see you."

  Color flooded my face. "Oh come on. Do I look like a construction worker?"

  "Maybe you're a secretary," she said. "I don't know, and I don't care." Her lips pursed. "Trust me. I've seen it all by now."

  From the look on her face, some of those things weren't exactly pleasant. I didn't bother asking for details. I'd seen firsthand what my brothers could do to a bathroom.

  "I don't work there," I told her. "And that's the truth."

  "Then why were you there?"

  Was that really any of her business? Part of me wanted to slink off and never come back. The other part was way too stubborn to give her the satisfaction.

  "Actually," I said, "I was looking for a job." It wasn't even a lie. Looking to hammer the point home, I added, "I don't suppose you're hiring?"

  She eyed me up and down. "You ever work in a hotel before?"

  An hour later, I had not only restroom access, but a brand new job. Even more surprising, they wanted me to start immediately – that very night, in fact.

  Officially, I was newest member of the hotel's night shift front-desk team. Unofficially, I was a sacred guardian of the hotel's pristine facilities, which as it turned out, had been under siege since the start of construction across the street.

  With my new-employee packet tucked under my arm, I stood, gazing around the hotel lobby, shocked at my sudden change of luck. It wasn't the job of my dreams, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

  Even the clerk, whose name I learned was Suzanne, wasn't nearly as frightening as I first thought. The way it sounded, she was mostly just stressed out about the restrooms.

  Maybe, just maybe, things were looking up – or at least that's what I thought until I spotted a familiar figure pushing her way through the hotel's glass double doors.

  It was Bianca, my least-favorite lamp-thrower. And from the look on her face, she was ready to start throwing things again.

  Chapter 15

  Bianca pushed through the glass doors and into the hotel lobby. At the sight of me standing near the front desk, she stopped short. "You!" she said.

  I looked around. It was mid-morning, and the lobby was nearly empty. Other than the uniformed man servicing the snack machines, it was just me and Suzanne.

  Behind the front desk, Suzanne frowned. "Me?"

  Ignoring the question, Bianca marched up to the desk and announced, "I'm here to see Jake Bishop. And don't tell me he's not here, because I know better."

  I heard a soft thud near my feet. I looked down and spotted my employee packet lying on the tile floor. Too stunned to pick it up, I stared down at the thing while my thoughts churned. Jake couldn’t be staying here. Could he?

  With a sound of annoyance, Bianca stepped toward me. Her gaze drifted down to the packet. "If you're waiting for me to pick that up, you obviously don't know who you're dealing with."

  She was wrong. I knew exactly who I was dealing with. I just didn't know what I was dealing with. Was Jake really here? Desperate for more information, I looked to Suzanne.

  She was giving Bianca the same icy look she'd used on me earlier. "I'm sorry, ma'am," Suzanne said, "but we're not allowed to release the names of our guests."

  "I don't need his name," Bianca said. "I have his name. What I don't have is his room number."

  Suzanne gave Bianca a stiff smile. "We don't release names or room numbers."

  With little huff, Bianca reached into her handbag. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it on the counter. "Maybe this will improve your memory?"

  Suzanne eyed the bill. After a long pause, she looked up. "There is one thing I remember."

  Bianca leaned forward. "Yes?"

  "I remember," Suzanne said, "that accepting bribes is also against hotel policy."

  I stifled a laugh. Both women turned to face me.

  "Uh, sorry," I said, coughing into my hand. "Allergies."

  With an epic eye-roll, Bianca turned back to Suzanne and said, "It's not a bribe. It's a tip."

  Standing there, I wanted to give Bianca a tip of my own, something along the lines of, "Stay away from Jake, or I'll shove that twenty up your butt."

  But that would be pointless. As much as it pained me, Jake was free to see whoever he wanted. Besides, even if I did have a twenty, I wouldn’t waste it on Bianca. I'd use it to buy new underpants.

  Money-aside, I was treading on some very shaky ground here. I literally had just been hired. No way I'd risk a new job just to argue with Bianca.

  Bianca shoved the money closer to Suzanne. "You have seen a tip before, haven't you?"

  "Yes," Suzanne said, pointing at the bill. "Unfortunately, that, ma'am, is not a tip. That is a bribe, which is strictly against hotel policy."


  With a sound of annoyance, Bianca snatched the bill off the counter. She shoved it back into her purse and whirled toward me. "This is your doing, isn't it?"

  "Me?" I said.

  "Don't play all innocent," Bianca said. "You told her not to tell me, didn't you?"

  The idea was so ridiculous, I almost laughed. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." Technically, this was only half true. Was I clueless? Yes. Was I sorry? Not hardly.

  "Whatever," Bianca said, turning back to Suzanne. "How much did she pay you? Whatever it is, I'll double it. No. Triple it."

  Suzanne's brow wrinkled. "Who are you talking about?" Suzanne glanced in my direction. "Laura?"

  "Who on Earth is Laura?" Bianca asked.

  I cleared my throat. "That's me, actually."

  Bianca whirled to face me. "I thought your name was Luna."

  Sure, legally it was. I had even used the name Luna on my employment paperwork. But now, after years of practice, I had a system for making sure that no one actually called me that.

  "Well yeah, that's my birth name," I said. "But everyone calls me Laura, so…" I shrugged and let the implication speak for itself.

  "No one calls you Laura," Bianca said.

  "Actually," I said, "Suzanne did. Just now. Remember?"

  Bianca looked ready to go insane. "Who's Suzanne?"

  Behind Bianca, Suzanne said. "That would be me." She crossed her arms. "The person you're trying to bribe."

  Bianca whirled to face her. Through clenched teeth, she said, "It's not a bribe. It's a tip."

  As I watched, Bianca launched into another round of bargaining, threats, and general irritation. As far as I could tell, it wasn't doing an ounce of good. The longer Bianca talked, the less cooperative Suzanne was looking.

  As the debate raged on, I caught movement just outside the hotel's main entrance. A burly man in a red hard-hat was hustling through the glass double doors. He had a rolled-up magazine tucked under his left arm and a thermos tucked under his right. Sneaking a quick glance at the front desk, the guy scurried toward the far end of the lobby and disappeared toward the restrooms.

  I returned my attention to the front desk, where Bianca was still raging.

  "Fine," she was saying. "If you won't give me the number, at least pick up the phone and dial his room." Bianca straightened. "Tell him I'm here." She gritted her teeth. "Please."

  "Ma'am," Suzanne said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

  "Why?" Bianca demanded, flicking her head in my direction. "You're not asking her to leave."

  "That's because she works here," Suzanne said.

  Bianca turned to face me. Her gaze narrowed. "Oh, now, I get it."

  Well, that made one of us.

  Bianca whirled back to Suzanne. "You want me to leave?" Bianca said. "Fine. I'll leave. But mark my words, I'll be back. And next time, I'll be bringing my boss. Let's see you say no to him." And with that, Bianca turned and stalked out of the hotel.

  Suzanne stared after her. She let out a long, weary sigh. "That's the third one since yesterday," she said.

  "The third what?" I asked.

  "The third girl who's come in asking for him."

  I swallowed. "Him?"

  Glancing around, Suzanne lowered her voice. "Sometimes, we get celebrities here. And when we do…" She looked heavenward. "Well, let's just say it brings out the crazies."

  "So there's a celebrity staying here?" I tried to keep my tone casual. "Do you mean the Jake person she was talking about?"

  "Oh, you've heard of him?" she said.

  Heard of him? Wow, that was an understatement. I'd held him. I'd kissed him. For one glorious weekend, I'd been his girl, utterly and completely. I ignored all that and said, "He's a fighter, right?"

  "Oh, he's a lot more than that," Suzanne said. "The way I hear it, he's a huge internet star." She gave a dreamy-looking smile. "Yesterday, I actually saw him." Her voice became husky. "In the flesh."

  I stared at her. I didn't like the way she said that. If anyone had a right to drool over Jake's flesh, it was me.

  My heart sank. Except, I didn't really have that right, did I? No, I didn't. Not anymore.

  "Oh, don't look at me like that," Suzanne said. "I was the epitome of professionalism." Her smile faded. "And if you don't want trouble, you'd better be too." She lowered her voice. "The night manager? He's a real piece of work."

  Looking past me, her eyes suddenly widened. "Hey!" she called out across the lobby.

  I turned to look. The construction worker was making a mad dash for the exit. I glanced back to Suzanne. She skirted the front desk and sprinted after him. She was surprisingly fast, but the guy had a huge head start. By the time Suzanne reached those glass double-doors, the guy was long-gone.

  But, as Suzanne told me a few minutes later, somewhere in the men's restroom, his essence lingered.

  Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care. I wanted to hear more about Jake. Was he really staying here? And if so, why? But no matter how many times I tried to tell myself otherwise, I could only think of one reason.

  Because of me.

  Chapter 16

  I turned to my brothers. "Hey, can I borrow some money?"

  It was nearly noon, and I was huddled in the job-trailer, trying to get everything in order for my new job. I still didn't know what to make of everything, especially the thing with Jake.

  But if I thought about him now, I'd go crazy, so I was working hard to focus on more practical matters, like my serious lack of necessities.

  "What do you need money for?" Anthony asked.

  It was lunchtime, and my brothers had just ducked inside to scarf down some of last night's leftover pizza. I glanced at the open pizza box. At least, I sure hoped it was from last night. There were so many boxes lying around, it was hard to be sure.

  "I just need to pick up a few clothes," I said. Mostly underclothes. But there was no way I'd be sharing that little detail with them. If either of my brothers learned that nearly all of my undergarments had ended up in a nearby trash can, I'd never hear the end of it.

  Steve took a huge bite of pizza. "So buy some clothes."

  "That's the point," I said. "I'm planning to, but I'm a little short of cash."

  Okay, a lot short of cash.

  "Your ass," Steve said.

  If he meant my bare ass, he'd soon have a point. I had only one spare pair of panties left and no washing machine. I also had no sink, no detergent, and no intention of flashing my goodies to random hotel guests.

  I gave Steve an annoyed look. "Hey, if you're worried I won't pay you back, don't be. I've got a job now. Remember?"

  "What happened to the money in your purse?" he asked.

  "What money?" I said. "I've got like three bucks in change."

  "Not anymore," Anthony said.

  I shook my head. "What do you mean?"

  Anthony glanced at my purse, sitting atop a nearby pizza box. "The quarters?" Anthony said. "We borrowed 'em last night."

  "When last night?" I asked.

  "When you hit the porta-potties," Anthony said.

  I shuddered at the memory. The porta-potties were cold, dirty, and seriously lacking in decent toilet paper. "Well, that's just great," I said. "I'm gone like ten minutes, and you go through my purse?"

  "Sorry," Anthony said. "We needed tip money."

  I gave him a look. "You had pizza delivered here? At the job-trailer?"

  "I met him at the fence," Anthony said.

  Steve chimed in. "And you ate like three slices, so I don't know why you're griping about it."

  "It's not that I don't want to chip in," I explained. "It's just that, well, that was the only money I had."

  Anthony gave me an odd look. "What happened to the rest of it?"

  "There is no rest of it," I said. "That's the point."

  "Oh get real," Steve said, flicking his gaze toward my purse. "I bet you've got a thousand bucks in there."

  I tried to laug
h. "I wish."

  Steve glanced at the purse. His eyebrows furrowed.

  I turned to study the thing. I had barely touched it since leaving Jake's. I opened it up and peered inside. I saw just the usual stuff – my wallet, a hairbrush and a few incidentals.

  As far as the wallet, I knew for sure that was empty, well of cash at least. While applying for that job, I'd had to pull out my driver's license, so I was sadly familiar with its contents. The only other thing in there was an expired debit card. I couldn't exactly shop with that, could I?

  I tossed my purse back onto the pizza box. "Very funny." I turned back to my brothers. "Come on. Just twenty bucks. I'll pay you back with my first check, alright?"

  Steve gave me look. "Twenty, huh?" He stood and plucked my purse off the pizza box. He opened it up and unzipped the inside front pocket. He peered inside. "Damn," he said.

  "What?" I asked.

  He pulled out a wad of cash and began rifling through it. "All I got are hundreds."

  Chapter 17

  I scurried across the darkened construction area, praying that no one spotted me before I made it to the chain-link fence. Supposedly, a security guard made the rounds at least once an hour. In reality, I still hadn't seen the guy.

  In my book, that was a good thing.

  No matter what my brothers had claimed, I was certain we weren't supposed to be staying on the job site. How they'd gotten away with it so far, I had no idea. It shouldn't have been surprising though. Even when my brothers were kids, they had this uncanny knack for getting away with just about anything.

  Me, not so much.

  It was half past ten, and my shift started at eleven. But I wanted to get there early, if only for the chance to freshen up beforehand. Plus, I'd used my dad's mailing address on my employment paperwork for a specific reason. The hotel management had no idea where I was staying, and I was determined to keep it that way.

  Sticking to the shadows, I skirted a dump truck and edged around a giant pile of gravel. Still moving, I looked toward the narrow metal gate that allowed construction workers to enter and exit on foot. Making a beeline toward it, I kept repeating the lock-combination in my head.