We must have looked like something left at the curb.
“Yes,” I said, forcing calm. “I need a room.”
He glanced from my untidy ponytail to the shadows under my eyes to the diaper bag weighing down my shoulder. His gaze landed on the applesauce stain on my t-shirt, and the smirk twitched. “We’re fully booked tonight.”
I adjusted my grip on Emma, not in the mood for games. Grabbing his name from the nameplate, I used it to intimidate. “I think you might be able to find one for me, Doug. My father owns this hotel.”
That got me a blink. Then another. “Your father…?”
“Bill Carver,” I said. “You know the name.”
His polite confusion didn’t waver. “I see. And you have a reservation under…?”
I laughed, a brittle sound that cracked at the edges. “Do I look like I planned ahead?”
Doug gave me the once-over again and determined I was lying based solely on my wardrobe choices and the desperation in my eyes. “Unfortunately, as I said, we’re fully booked, miss.”
“Ms. Carver,” I corrected, although technically I hadn’t been a Carver in name for years. But I was now, when it counted. He wasn’t budging. I sighed. “Can I use your phone?”
The man gestured to the door. “There’s a payphone outside by the restaurant.”
That was it. No apology. No offer to call upstairs. Just a direction like I was some stray who’d wandered too far up the hill.
“Right,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “Thank you for your… professionalism.”
Keith tugged at my sleeve. “Mommy, I have to potty.”
“Oh, honey, can you hold it?”
Keith grabbed the front of his pants and pinched it off. Okay, well, he was technically doing what I asked. Returning my attention to the front desk jerk, I asked, “I assume your bathrooms are also fully booked. Would you prefer Bill Carver’s grandson to use the bushes outside?”
Doug’s expression didn’t change. Keith would be using the bushes.
I shook my head, plotting my revenge as the three of us refugees trudged out through the front doors. At the first bush we passed, I gave Keith the go-ahead to drop his pajama bottomsand go to town. You would’ve thought it was the best day of his life, the way he painted the leaves yellow.
Just next doorin Beverly Hills did not take into consideration that every property was like four city blocks. I’d have taken my car if I’d known what a trek it would be. The payphone booth stood like a relic in this upscale neighborhood, like someone had gotten nostalgic and decided not to replace it with one of those sleeker chrome wall units. With no other option, I herded all of us inside, warning the kids not to touch anything as I dug through my purse for change. I’d just slipped a few quarters into the slot when I caught a horrifying sight—Emma, her lips smashed against the glass, suctioned to the germ-infested surface like a blowfish.
“Oh, my god, Emma. Gross.” I peeled her off and tucked her between my legs for safekeeping, only to spot Keith gleefully mashing every button on the keypad.
“Keith, stop that.” I grabbed his wrist and wedged him in beside his sister, quietly hoping we all made it out without contracting cholera. “No one moves, you hear me?”
Quickly, I dialed the numbers I’d memorized long ago. When my sister answered on the third ring, I didn’t even bother with hello. “Melanie,” I whispered, “it’s me. I need your help.”
There was a pause. “Where are you?”
“The Beverly Regent,” I said, voice cracking. “At a payphone. With the kids. I… I left Scott.”
By the timewe arrived back at the lobby, the whole vibe had changed. There were now two men behind the counter, one wearing a shiny nametag that boasted his title as Guest Services Manager, and the other, Doug, wide-eyed with fear.
“Mrs. Carver,” the manager said. “So nice of you to join us. I spoke to your sister. Your suite is ready.”
“A suite? I was told you were fully booked.”
The manager shot the weasel a glare. “Yes, that was a regrettable mistake. I promise we will take excellent care of you and your two adorable children.”
I caught Doug’s eye, waiting for his response.
“My apologies, ma’am,” he said. “I didn’t realize—”
