Probably from bar fights. Or bear wrestling.
The second thing I noticed was some sort of sticky, red goo smeared on the paper. Like blood.
Probably from bar fights. Or bear wrestling.
“Whatis that?” I pointed to the blood-like substance.
“Ketchup.”
“Ketchup?”
“Ketchup.”
“Why is there ketchup on my name sign?”
“You want to know why there’s ketchup on your name sign?”
“Yes, I want to know why there’s ketchup on my name sign.” The muscles in his neck clenched. They appeared to be made of petrified wood.
“The reason there is ketchup on your name sign is that the person whose name is on the name sign was late. So the person who was holding the name sign got something to eat while he waited.” Noah cleared his throat. “And then may have run out of napkins.”
“Let me guess.” I glanced over at the burger joint next to the coffee shop, Moe’s Mountain Eats. “You had an elk burger?”
“With reindeer bacon.” Noah’s eyes got even squintier. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” At least now I knew what kind of Neanderthal ate elk and reindeer. An obnoxiously gorgeous one with shoulders broad enough to land small aircraft.
“Okay, my turn,” said Noah. “The last thingyouate was some sort of California kale, spinach thing.” He said the word California the same way he said the word LuxeLife.
“How’dyouknow?”
“Lucky guess. Plus, you’ve got a chunk of green stuff in your teeth.”
It was true. Back in Los Angeles, I’d had a protein smoothie while my flight was delayed. After picking out an embarrassingly large wad of greenery, we stood there eye to eye again,scowl to scowl, facing off like two MMA street fighters in a bare-knuckle brawl.
“And for the record,” said Noah. “I wasn’t even the one who was supposed to be here. Your fancy LuxeLife chauffeur, whose name is Bob, by the way, and has never worn a suit in his life, had to get his kid to her chorus concert. So I told him I would cover for him and pick you up.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“Oh, I’m not a gentleman.”
“Gee, I’m shocked.”
Brie stepped back in the middle, handing each of us a glass of iced liquid. “Just water, I promise.”
“Good,” I said.
“Darn,” said Noah at the same time.
“Figured everybody could cool off.” She gave her brother a pointed look.
Looking again at the crumpled up, ketchup-stained paper with my name on it, the realization hit me like a splash of moonshine to the face. “Wait. So, does that mean I’m supposed to ride all the way over to the resort with you?”
“She’s a little slow, isn’t she?” Noah asked Brie.
“Noah, be nice.”
I scanned the departures board for the first flight back to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, there were none. Just a blinking “WELCOME TO ASTER PARK” message that felt more like a threat than a greeting.
