by Anne Eliot
“They’re still deciding. Lots of people to interview. But they’ve got my information, and I figure it’s always good to have a couple back up options, right?”
He nods. “How will they call you if we don’t have cell phones?”
“I told her I would stop by her office tomorrow to check in. People do that,” I fib, realizing it’s not really a fib, because if we do sleep here in the garage tonight, I am going to go back up there before leaving. When you’ve reached this level of low, what’s one more groveling, begging day?
There’s always hope.
Like…Mrs. Hildebrandt could be fired by tomorrow and I’d get to meet the new human resources manager?
There’s no point telling Sage how the woman took only two minutes to clear her office from the likes of me and my low-class sort. She never even interviewed me. She’d also called me a liar because I’d typed that I was already eighteen on the application. I explained that we’d driven so far to accommodate her schedule; and I reminded her that I wasn’t supposed to have this interview until next week—after my birthday—so I thought it would be okay.
Instead of earning me the motivated-job-seeker brownie points I’d hoped for, she called me sneaky and devious! I couldn’t even deny that accusation, because ever since we snuck out of Joanie’s house and started stealing oatmeal packets from hotels, sneaky and devious describes my whole persona right now.
When they pressed me with questions about Mrs. Felix and the baby, and how maybe it was my fault they’d left in such a rush, and then started pressing me for information on the baby and the ‘mom who had the flu’ that was it for me. With my head high, I told them the truth, that I didn’t know Mrs. Felix or the baby’s mother, and then I said, “I’m sorry I can’t work here, and thank you for your time.”
Somehow I held it together, pulled out my parking ticket and asked them to please validate it. At first Mrs. Hildebrandt told me they never validated anyone, which I’d already learned from the website was not true. Once I explained they’d be seeing a lot more of me until I could panhandle the fifty-five dollars I’d need to exit this place from her fancy guests down in the lobby, Mrs. Hildebrandt saw the light. She found this special parking pass in her desk and put her name right smack in the center of it. She even picked up the phone and called the valet manager herself.
I almost laughed when I realized she was talking to Angel the garage manager. No way did I let on that I’d already met the guy, either. I’d promised not to get him in to trouble, and promises, just like secrets, I keep. From what I overheard on the phone call, Angel was also pretending we’d never met.
Mrs. Hildebrandt told Angel that she needed some trash removed from the premises as quickly as possible. And, could Angel please drive my car to the entryway himself, and to look for a girl with frizzy blonde hair and a questionable outfit? Apparently, Angel was to make sure he and security personally helped me get into my car and drive away!
When she hung up, handed me the card, and told me where to go, I was seeing fury-fire-balls instead of the mean-girls in front of me. Instead of telling her exactly where she could go and bursting into tears, I clenched my teeth and stared at the parking pass. That moment of composure earned me payback from some higher power, because that’s when I noticed Mrs. Hildebrandt had unknowingly done us a huge favor.
The small print on the pass said it all: Compliments of Belle Paris Management, One Day Free Valet Parking, Valid 24 hours.
This means we don’t legally have to drive out until we’re good and ready. Heck, if I’m lucky the stupid car will run completely out of gas on the way to the front entrance, which might mean Angel and his security guards would have to fill my tank with free gas in order to drive it back to the parking garage when we don’t show up as ordered.
Despite what Mrs. Hildebrandt told me to do, she’s made it clear she’s not my boss. And because it’s a free country, I don’t have to do what she says despite her orders.
I also already know that Angel is off work at five because he told me so. I’m assuming Mrs. Hildebrandt is probably working the nine-to-five shift, because that’s the hours all office people seem to keep. I’m also sure neither of them will stay one minute past the end of their shifts to wait for us to finally appear. So, at that point, and when we are good and ready, tomorrow after a good night’s sleep, that is, Sage and I will valet for our car, tip the four dollars we have left, and leave here without being even more humiliated.
In the meantime, this trash and her amazing little brother are going to forget some worries for a while and try to have what little fun we can.
“Earth to Robin? What’s the plan?”
“Still formulating. Sorry. I’m kind of tired from driving all morning. All the interview stuff was also exhausting,” I evade, pulling him close with a quick, over-the-shoulder half-hug that’s more for me than for him.
He glances around to make sure no one is looking before he hugs me back, then nods to a crowd of families going inside the Belle Paris pool gate. “How about we try to grab some lunch and rest here a some? I still want that nap. Besides, look at all the wasted food.” He points to a busboy hauling a giant tray of stacked plates each with what appears to be half-eaten food on it. “There has to me more where that came from.”
My stomach spins and twists at the sight of the food. Sage’s puppy dog eyes follow the disappearing tray as though he might chase the busy boy down. Figuring the hotel pool is probably a great place to hide out in plain sight until they stop searching for us at the front entry where we’re supposed to appear to collect our car, or even at the water taxi stops where they would assume we would head if we wanted to go somewhere else, I shrug deciding, why not. “Sure. Yes. Let’s enjoy this place and get something to eat.”
Chapter 7
Old pros at this now, Sage and I follow our latest ‘pretend family’ into the pool area. We’re so calm, cool and collected that the pool monitor hands over the plush guest towels without a second glance at us. And, wow, they’re the softest towels I’ve ever felt.
“Do you see the locker rooms yet? I bet this place has the best free shampoos and conditioners in the world.”
“Stay focused, Robin. We want lunch. Lunch. You can’t eat soap.”
“Right.” Quickly, I scan the circumference of the giant pool and spot a rather chaotic-looking family packing up their stuff. They’re clustered half sitting, half standing, but definitely in-motion at one of tables that is close to the poolside restaurant. “Looks like there’s a whole family reunion heading out, you down for that table?”
“So down. Move in.”
Sage and I position ourselves nearby. I fake-stare around the pool deck and Sage pretends something is wrong with his flip flops while we observe what looks like two sets of grandparent-looking people complaining that everyone has wasted their lunches.
Some wild-haired twins about age three or four are screaming how they won’t take a nap because they want to stay and swim more, all as their father is ordering them into sit in this giant double stroller. There’s the obvious mom of the twins who also looks hot and cranky—like she’s the one who needs the nap, as well a younger, less stressed group of adults who are directing a whole mess of middle-school and high-school aged kids to meet them in the lobby after they shower and change. Sage and I move closer to blend in with the chaos as they exit, then he and I sit down, throw our towels over the backs of our seats and act like we’re just stragglers from the same group who weren’t ready to leave just yet.
There’s a credit card slip attached to a small clipboard on the edge of the table, which tells me the check is paid. Best of all, it appears the waiter had just refilled the sodas, and it looks like couple of the remaining food plates are nearly untouched.
Like Sage is reading my mind, he says, “There’s more food left on that table than I’ve ever seen. Not one to-go box in sight. Oh, how I love people on vacation.” He scoots his chair in closer.
My stomach c
urls and twists as I the smell of food, good food, reaches my nose. I’m nervously scanning in every direction to make sure waiters and security guards as well as the exiting family do not notice that we’ve pulled a fast one; but when my eyes land on the fresh pineapple that was used as a garnish on each and every plate, I lose my paranoid-safety-focus because my mouth is watering so much I may drool. I also spot two, nearly un-eaten baskets of fries, and—holy cow—there’s the sweet potato, waffle-cut ones as well as the regular ones! There’s ranch dressing and packets of unopened barbecue sauce for dipping, plus these gorgeous, half baskets of beautiful cheesy breadsticks with fresh marinara sauce in untouched little side cups that a waiter must have placed everywhere.
Who the heck wastes breadsticks and warm marinara sauce?
“I think I’m dreaming this.” Sage grabs a fresh, rolled-up napkin, shakes it so the fork drops out, and uses it to spear a chunk of the golden pineapple into his mouth. “Heaven. Pure heaven.”
I’m elated that Sage and I won’t be hungry at all for the rest of today. “If we save half of this spread, we can pack it in your backpack for dinner.”
“Mhmmh.” Sage nods, plowing into some of the fries.
Without looking at each other, mostly because I think Sage is as embarrassed as I am about having to do this, he and I attack the rest of the food. When we come up for air, not one bit of fruit is left, the fries in the baskets are gone, and we’re devouring the breadsticks.
“This sauce is so good it’s like a dream.” Sage gives me a comical, full-mouthed grin.
“Slow down. We’re going to get sick.”
“I can’t.”
Even though I’ve got a bread-and-cheese food-baby forming in my stomach and that food baby might be twins, I’m eyeing this beautiful, completely untouched avocado-topped salad with what appears to be pineapple-cilantro-lime dressing all over it. I dig in, but can’t hide a small moan of happiness because the avocados taste so good. I don’t even care that there’s dressing dripping off my chin because holy cow. “Food of the gods and five star hotel amazing,” I mutter. “This is the first green food we’ve eaten since we started our—road trip.”
“Dude, I know, right?” He takes one of the avocado slices off the top of the salad and plops it in his mouth. “Admit it, Robin. You were hungry. Look at you go. You’re like a crazed dinosaur right now.”
“Well, that’s flattering. And yes, I was hungry,” I laugh, trying to slow down how fast I’m chewing and swallowing, suddenly sad that my brother has been worrying about me eating as much as I’ve been worrying about him. I glance at the table. “What have we done? It’s all gone. We saved none of it.”
“No regrets.” Sage leans back, puts his hands on his stomach, and rubs it like he’s a fat and happy Santa. “Don’t worry, sis. We know what to do. Didn’t you say we were going to water-taxi to the other hotels. Let’s set some big goals for dinner. Maybe we can find a wedding.” He wiggles his brows, then burps. “But if we do, and it’s as good as this, it’s going to be hard to go back to slumming with those dried oatmeal packets back at the two star hotels from before. Crap. If only we could stay here at this hotel unnoticed forever.”
“Don’t say crap. And those other hotels were not slumming. I loved those places.”
“Don’t be cranky. So did I. I’m only commenting on the fact that there is a huge difference in food quality between hotels, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Yeah. And in pricing. The Orb Hotel right here by the parks charges a rack rate of over four hundred dollars a night for one regular room. I read about it on a travel blog.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to write any of this stuff down on the payback list, because this was all throwaway food.” He sneaks a glance at the bill. “This lunch was $367. They tipped ninety bucks! Hell yes, now I see why you want to work here! Ninety bucks tip, Robin. From one table.”
“My fingers are crossed they hire me,” I answer brightly and change the subject away from how I’ll never get to work here by holding up a little forgotten side dish of salad dressing filled to the brim. “Would you judge me if I ate this amazing pineapple-lime dressing like it’s soup?”
“That can’t be good for you,” he says, frowning.
Shrugging, I pick up a spoon so I can scoop a glob of the dressing into my mouth. “Mmm. Wow. Best idea I’ve ever had.”
Sage grimaces even more as I eat another spoonful. “Here. Try some. It’s beyond amazing.” I grab a fresh spoon and fill it, then turn slightly, trying to convince Sage to open his mouth, but out of the corner of my eye I realize Sage and I are being watched!
Watched by Angel—the valet parking guy. He’s staring at us while trying to hide his massive muscles behind some tropical potted plants on the far side of the pool.
Worse, he’s with this uniformed security guard.
“Sage. Shit. Shit. Shit.” I pull in a breath and set down my spoon, but not before spilling some of it on my pants.
Sage has gone motionless, catching on to the fear in my voice and the part where I never curse. Quickly, I grab a napkin and wipe my lips to cover my whisper as my heart goes on overdrive. “Red alert. Stay cool.”
“How bad?” Sage casually weaves his hands behind his head like he’s leaning back to relax while adding in one of his fake yawns.
“Bad. I should have told you that my interview didn’t go so well.
His brows go up high, and he gives me a WTF look, but maintains his calm demeanor.
“Yeah.” I say, also still acting casual. “They asked me to leave the premises,” I mutter, forcing a smile and pretend I’m pointing at a palm tree.
“What? Why?” He unclasps his hands and leans forward.
“Tell you later?” I shrug. “For now, our parking lot friend along with some security guy are behind you and currently arguing while pointing at us like they’re trying to decide which one of them is going to approach us first. I’ve also spotted the lady who interviewed me stalking extra-fast through the far side of the pool area, too. I’m going to go with the idea that we’re in trouble.”
My stomach flips and what was once full and happy now feels queasy and jittery.
Did someone report us stealing food? How illegal is it to sneak into a pool and eating abandoned food.
Trespassing in hotel pools is a crime and can be prosecuted. But is table grazing also a felony?
I lock eyes with Angel through the bushes. He nods at me, and waves a little then—the guy smiles! Only from here, his smile reads deadly.
Does he think it will be fun to be part of arresting me and my little brother? I’m so shocked by his grin that I can’t even do one of my fake smiles back. And even though our eyes just locked, and I know he knows I’ve seen him, I skate my eyes off his and act like I didn’t see him at all.
“You ready to run?” I mutter, sliding forward in my seat, trying to stop my throat from closing in on me. I slide out of my seat and stand, swinging my towel like I’m preparing for a swim. Sage casually copies me. Instead of heading toward the water, we start creeping toward the farthest pool exit away from Angel.
Angel waves his hands at us and the security guard starts to move around the perimeter of the pool. “You two. Wait. People want to talk to you.”
“I’m sure they do,” I whisper through clenched teeth. I pretend again I don’t see the guy or his waving, which could be seen as comical, because Angel is almost impossible to miss. So much so that every person at the pool besides us has stopped to stare at him.
Sage deliberately turns his head in the opposite direction just like I’m doing, and we both keep walking like that waving guy is not waving to us.
Not at all.
“Some Angel,” Sage breathes out.
“I feel sorry for him a little. I think he’s about to be fired even though we promised never to see him again.”
“Robin. Sage. Wait,” Angel yells again. “Hey! Guys. Wait!”
I put my hand to my chest
, and we both slowly turn toward Angel’s voice like it’s the first time we’ve heard it.
“I don’t recall giving that dude our first names. Do you?” Sage has his pocketknife in his fist again.
“Nope. Not good.”
Sage crosses his arms and mutters out the side of his mouth, “You go right. I’m heading left—there’s an opening under the waterslide that will get me to the far exit by those water taxis we saw.” He squints, maybe trying to cover that he’s afraid. “Meet you at the car. I still have the spare key.”
“You hide in the back seat under the blanket, just in case. I’m sure you’re going to be faster. Don’t worry about me if it takes some time. I’ll be fine, and even if they stop me I will get to you. No. Matter. What.” I can’t hide the shaking in my voice. “Whatever happens, don’t unlock the car for anyone but me. Like if police come or something you make them bring me to you before unlocking, and of course, above all don’t get caught.”
“Don’t you get caught.”
“Pfft,” is all I can answer because I’m choking on fear.
“Promise?” His eyes look wild and too shiny like he’s holding back tears.
I nod and squeeze his hand, finally able to get words out. “Promise. Now, go!”
We run in opposite directions.
Chapter 8
The security guard starts after Sage, but my little brother’s lightning fast zig-zags have surprised the guy. When I glance back from the edge of the bar, Sage is already through the pool gate and is dashing toward the fancy atrium, all while that chubby guard is tripping over the towel cart and nearly running into waitresses.
This means, if the guard is chasing Sage, then Angel’s chasing me.
Well good luck, Mr. Giant. I was on varsity track four years, and I went to state every year.
Heart pounding, I beeline for the edge of the bar, searching for some sort of a kitchen door around the back. I figure the guy has got to get around the entire pool to follow me, unless he means to dive in and swim. Leading him away from my brother, I lock eyes with him once, making sure he sees the path I’ve taken then duck into the first door marked: Employees Only.