Cameron rolled his eyes as he stood in line, his body rigid. Fuck. This was not happening. I felt my face turning bright red. Considering Sonny’s revelation earlier about the money problems they had been experiencing, it was entirely possible.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cameron, there must have been some kind of… accounting problem,” I said, reaching for my own wallet. I pulled my personal credit card out and gave it to the clerk. “Here. Use my card.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re booked solid,” he said, handing it back to me without even looking at it, his eyes shifting between us. “The Hall of Fame festival is next weekend, and we are completely booked for the next several weeks.”
I took a deep breath. The Pro Football Hall of Fame was located in Canton, just about twenty minutes south of Akron. At this time of year, it wasn’t unheard of for hotels to sell out. With all the preparation for the grand opening, I’d forgotten that the festival was next weekend, too.
“You don’t haveanything?” I demanded. The man shook his head and continued to glance around nervously.
“Fine,” I muttered through gritted teeth. I walked over to a recently vacated couch and gestured for Cameron to sit.
“I’ll get this figured out. You want to go in the bar?” I asked, waving at the lounge area next to check in. It was really busy – a bandwas playing, and drunken dancers were pushing aside chairs and tables to make impromptu dancing areas.
If Cameron’s eyes could have gotten wider, they would have. He just shook his head and moved to some other overstuffed couches located as far away from the bar and the hotel desk as possible. I sighed and stood, dragging all his things over to the annoyingly distant seats.
I could see Cameron becoming more and more tense, his eyes glancing around at the people checking in. He began muttering something under his breath, and kept his eyes glued to his phone.
“I’ll find you another hotel,” I said, annoyed that he wasn’t listening to me. “Don’t worry.”
I might as well have said “Don’t breathe”, because it was obvious all Cameron was doing was worry.
I began using my own phone, searching all the hotel chains I could think of to find somewhere to house the writer for the two weeks he would be in town. Thirty minutes later I was about to admit defeat. Chain after chain came up blank. Everyone was booked for the Hall of Fame festival.
Desperation hit, and I texted my best friend, Brannon. Bran and I had grown up together. To our knowledge, we were the only two gay graduates of Tallmadge High School, though of course, statistically speaking, we knew there had to be more, but we’d never met them.
ME: Bran, I’m desperate bro.
BRANNON: What’s up? You finally agree to let me do something with your hair?
ME: Hell no. This head is perfect. Found the Twinkies’ missing author, but there was a FU with the room, and everything is booked solid for the HOF festival.
BRANNON: Shit. You checked all the chains, I assume?
ME: Of course.
BRANNON: What about Expedia, Orbit, those kinds of places? Air BNB?
ME: No luck. I need someplace for 2 weeks.
BRANNON: How about the really expensive places? The ones most people wouldn’t be able to afford?
ME: No dice.
BRANNON: Hmmm… What about the other extreme?
ME: What?
BRANNON: Motels? Pay by the hour places?
ME: Seriously? Does Akron even have those?
BRANNON: lol. Of course they do. You need to get out more.
ME: I’m about as “out” as I want, thank you very much.
BRANNON: Fine Fine… I still have someone at work I’d like to introduce you to at some point. He’s got a tight ass, and his hair… god, I could do some amazing things with his hair…
ME: Then why don’t YOU go out with him? Lol
