“Right,” Serafina says. “That would be great, actually, because then I can have my own bedroom and bathroom and so can my grandparents.”
“Next,” the woman behind the desk barks. She’s got the darkest tan I’ve ever seen which is quite shocking against her bleached hair.
I have to force myself not to look surprised as I step up. I smile and glance down at her name tag. “Hello, Bonnie. I’m Ben Williams and this is Serafina Lopez. We’re work colleagues, sort of, and I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up. We’ve been put into the same suite.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. We’re completely booked through the week.”
I pause and blink a couple of times, then smile. “No problem. Can you find me a room at a hotel nearby?”
Shaking her head, Bonnie says, “There’s a huge cosmetic surgery convention happening through Friday. They’ve booked every room in the city.” Glancing at Serafina, she lowers her voice, “I gave one of the docs a free upgrade. In exchange, he’s gonna pump my face so full of fillers, I won’t be able to move it for months.” She sounds positively giddy.
I stare at her in disbelief, trying to figure out what the hell to do now. I decide to turn on the charm, not that I’m all that practiced in such a maneuver. Leaning one elbow on the counter, I smile. “Bonnie, I know you have to tell most people there’s no room at the inn, but between you and me, there’s got to be something.” I pull a twenty out of my pocket and slide it across the counter. “How about if you just check again?”
“Are you trying to bribe me?” Bonnie asks.
“Not at all,” I tell her. “I found that on the floor.”
Bonnie grabs the money and puts it in her bra before saying, “It’s like I told you before — we don’t have any rooms. Do you want the one you’re already booked into or not? Because if not, I bet I could barter the one you had for a nice mole removal. I’ve got something growing on my shoulder that does not look healthy.”
She’s actually taking the money and saying no? I thought New Yorkers were tough.
Sera takes over with, “We definitely need the suite we have.”
Turning around, I see Maria and Lorenzo grinning at us. They wave excitedly at me and I offer them a weak smile in return. So to recount what’s happening, I’m about to go to one of the most important conferences of my life with an astrologer and now will be bunking with her and her grandparents for two nights. At least it can’t get any worse. Right?
Twenty-Five
Serafina
“A suite!” Abuela gushes as we walk into our airy ocean-view room on the third floor. “How exciting!”
Scooting her out of the way, my grandfather hurries past in the direction of the bedrooms mumbling, “I shouldn’t have had that pizza at lunch.”
“Told you.” Abuela starts to follow him. “We’ll take this room and you kids can have the other one.” She opens her mouth and gives us an exaggerated wink, before adding, “It’s a good thing Renzo and I are hard of hearing, huh?”
Oh no, she didn’t. “Abuela, Ben and I are work colleagues. We aren’t a couple.”
“No time like the present.” She winks again. This is so embarrassing.
“I think we should call down to the front desk for that rollaway. That way you can sleep with me and Abuelo can sleep on a rollaway.” I hurry to pick up the phone and punch in zero for the operator. After chatting with Bonnie again, I discover that all the cots have already been claimed. “No beds,” I tell Abuelo and Ben who are both staring at me expectantly as I hang up the phone.
Abuela waves her hand in front of her face. “We don’t need one. Renzo can sleep with Ben and I’ll sleep with you.”
Ben bolts toward the love seat and lifts the cushions. Why didn’t I think of that? I bet it’s a sleeper. The look of disappointment on his face disabuses me of that notion.
“How about if Abuelo sleeps on the loveseat?” I ask, already knowing the answer is going to be a no. He’s short, but he’s also in his eighties so…
My grandmother shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge an earwig. “His back would go out. The man needs a bed.” I should take one for the team and say that I’ll take the love seat, but there’s no way I’d ever sleep. I’m a sprawler as my little nap on the airplane so clearly indicated. I’d fall off in no time.
Ben finally grumbles, “He can sleep with me.” Then he takes off for the room my grandfather walked into. I hear him exclaim, “Urgh! What’s that smell?”
Abuela looks sheepish when she tells me, “Abuelo has been suffering from some digestive issues. We’re pretty sure he’s lactose intolerant, but he loves his dairy so much he refuses to go to the doctor and have my diagnosis confirmed.”
Ben immediately comes out of his room and stares at me with a murderous glare. I shoot him an apologetic expression then tell my grandmother to go into our room and get settled.
She looks between the two of us and makes a tsking sound. “If the two of you would just accept that you want to do the horizontal cha cha, there wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Abuela!” I practically shout at her.
“What? The whole world sees how the two of you go at it on television. Passion like that would burn up the sheets.” She walks into the other bedroom leaving me and Ben to deal with the fallout of such a statement.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Ben. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”
“How do you suggest doing that?” I can’t tell if his tone is flirtatious or angry. Maybe both?
“Well, I’d normally offer to give you a free natal chart, but I don’t think that would be your thing.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” That’s all he says but he’s glaring at me so intensely I take an involuntary step backwards.
“I’ll pay for all your meals while we’re here,” I suggest.
“We have a per diem for that.”
“Okay, fine,” I concede. “I’ll owe you one. Whatever you want, you have a chit to call in at any time.”
He glances up at the ceiling as though considering it, then looks back at me with a half-smile that makes me nervous. “As long as that ticket comes with no restrictions…”
I don’t know whether to be scared or excited by the expression on his face. Scared, right? Like he’ll probably say I have to renounce my beliefs on live TV. I should say no. But I am about to make the man sleep with my intestinally-challenged grandfather for the next couple of nights.
I nod my head. “Fine. What do you say we unpack and then go downstairs for supper? It must be six o’clock and I’m getting hungry.”
Ben turns and walks away from me, which I take to mean that we have a bargain. I hurry after my grandmother with thoughts of begging her to please quit being so salacious with her suggestions, but when I open the door to our bedroom, I discover her sound asleep on the bed.
After splashing some cold water on my face, I go back out to the living room to wait for Ben, but he’s already sitting on one of the armchairs. “That was fast,” I tell him.