Free How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Gillian Roberts

eyebrow.
    “Forgive me for questioning your powers. And thanks,” I added grudgingly. “This is really decent of you.”
    He grinned, quite pleased with himself. “This whole business is an elaborate ruse to get your attention. I had a fear it was wanin’ back in the city, so I set all of this up.”
    I put my arm on his sleeve. The feel of worn-soft broadcloth over worked-hard muscle was tempting. There were better ways to spend the day than what faced both of us, much better ways to perk up the waning attention. Although, of course, I had come here to decide whether or not perking was advisable, and just about decided last night that it was not. “C.K.,” I said before I thought it through, “we really do have to talk.”
    His exhales contained an entire vocabulary that could have been translated into comic book cursing—little stars and question marks and exclamation points whooshing out of him. His accent became acute. Verbal farina. “Ah trust you’re referrin’ to a need for conversation ’bout Sasha and the business at hand,” I thought he said. “Your friend’s in deep trouble.”
    I glared. Obviously my eyes did not speak the volumes that his exhalations did, or he would have been horrified. Instead, he went on figuring out what Sasha needed to get herself out of this mess. I couldn’t fault him for that—she was my friend and that was generous of him, particularly since he’d never approved of her.
    I faulted him anyway.
    * * *
    The hotel management was not glad to see me. Somehow, they blamed me for what had happened in the suite. Who was I, anyway? Ms. Berg’s reservation had been made by her employer. Why was I there? Why did I exist? What was the meaning of life?
    If they gave me—the person who shouldn’t have been there in the first place—a room, did I honestly think the saltwater people would pay for it?
    “Listen,” I reminded them, “I’ve been grossly inconvenienced—and possibly endangered. What if I had been in that room? What kind of security do you have here that lets strangers break into somebody’s room?”
    They huffed and they puffed. They took every precaution, they insisted. Not their fault, certainly. Never happened before. Spotless reputation.
    What were my alternatives? Moving in with Mackenzie, even short-term, didn’t seem like a great idea when what I most needed was space and time away from him.
    Home sounded lovely, but dangerously disloyal to Sasha. After all, I could have easily been the one to come back to the room first. I could have been the one in jail. Or another one dead.
    I finally handed over my credit card as collateral for their least expensive room. If management didn’t relent, or Sasha didn’t return to snap photos and get a free room, I would check out tomorrow and commute from the city to Sasha’s rescue.
    I tried not to remember that this was supposed to be my vacation. While the officious desk clerk grappled with finding me a lousy room, I tapped my too-tight loafers, readying myself for the next battle, the repossession of my wardrobe.
    “Well, young sweetie! Look, it’s Sherwin’s granddaughter.”
    Tommy and Lala seemed characters out of another, more comic, life. “Hi,” I said. “But weren’t you supposed to go back on that bus yesterday?”
    “Well, if you recall, when you left us, we were having a drink and talking about Sherwin,” Tommy said. “One thing led to another, I guess, and we never did make our bus.”
    Lala tittered. There was no other word for the sound that came from between her clenched lips. She batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes at Tommy, her tormentor, her sexual harasser.
    Tommy, dressed in his white shoes and seersucker, shorter than I remembered, bowed at me and grinned. “Tell Granddad that it’s too bad, but he lost out. Sweet Lala has honored me by promising to become my life companion.” He enunciated with great solemnity.
    “His wife .” Lala eyed me intensely. “I’m marrying