I jump on and tell the cabbie, “To the nearest hotel, please.”
“Barajas hotel?” the driver asks.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.Vale,”he says with a heavy Spanish accent.
He gets me there quickly.
I open the hotel’s huge door and the polite, diligent receptionist gets me a room. The moment I enter and close the door behind me, I drop myself on the bed, just for a couple of minutes. My back and butt would thank me if they could talk.
After a few minutes of doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, I get off the bed and go to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and walk inside it. A pressurized jet of water hits my skin, and it feels so good. More than good, the feeling is amazing. The temperature of the water is also perfect, calming. It runs over my body, relaxing it from my head and running down my neck. Until I remember…
“The make-up!” I yell.
I step out of the shower and look in the mirror.
Damn it! It is ruined.
The water removed some of the make-up covering my tattoos. My scars are no longer visible as the watercolor art emerges from underneath.
“Shit, how could I forget?”
I wrap a towel around my chest, and as I sit on the bed, I hear a voice, almost like a whisper, no, not a whisper just muffled… What could that be? I rummage through my stuff, trying to find the source until I hear. “Sarah!” coming from inside the bag.
Fuck!
The earpiece. I forgot to put on the damn thing. I’m guessing they are pretty mad about that.
I put it on and say, “Hi boys, I’m here.”
“What do you mean withhi boys? You were supposed to make contact as soon as you landed in Spain!” Rage barks.
“Chill, Rage,” I reply.
“He’s not wrong, Snow White,” Carter adds but he sounds candid.
“Wait. Are you two really agreeing? This is becoming a thing.” I’m smiling, and I just noticed.
“I thought you understood, there is no room for fuck-ups. You were fooling around, weren’t you?” Rage accuses.
“Well, I’m here now.” I know I sound cynical. “If you really want to know what I was doing, then let me tell you–” I pause.
“Well, we are waiting.” Both anxiously say.
“I was enjoying a nice shower. That trip got me all hot and sticky.”
“Shower?” Rage asks. “Wait. Did you fuck up your make-up?”
“Sure, that’s what you are thinking about,” Carter murmurs.
I pretend not to register his sarcasm.
“It came off just a bit, but nothing I can’t fix,” I assure them.
“Good,” Rage growls.
I make my way back to the bathroom and get to work on my hair.
