When the car pulls to the curb I climb in, wiping the tears from my eyes as I slide into the back seat. The driver glances at me in the rear-view mirror, her hair a mass of black, tightly wound curls that almost touch the roof, and her eyes soften when she sees my tears.
“You okay sweetie?”
I nod, not speaking, and after a moment of awkward silence she pulls away from the curb and blends into the lunchtime traffic. Pulling my cell from my blazer pocket I wonder if maybe Carson will have text me again, but the screen is empty and silent.
When the hotel comes into view, my seatbelt is unclipped and I’m opening the door before we even come to a full stop. “Thanks,” I say offhandedly, as I jump free from the car and rush into the hotel lobby. Reaching the elevator I stab the call button, realizing too late that my room key is in my bag, in my locker at school.
Sighing wearily, I turn and pad across the lobby to the reception desk, inhaling sharply and trying to keep the tears that are leaking from my eyes at bay.
“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” the chipper male receptionist asks me, his smile wide, flashing his gleaming white perfectly straight teeth.
“I’ve lost my key card, could I have a replacement please?” I ask, my voice a little shaky as I try valiantly to keep my emotional meltdown under wraps.
“Of course, what’s your room number?”
“1065.”
His fingers tap away at the computer in front of him for a second, before he looks up and smiles at me. “Your name please?”
“Carrigan Archibald.”
“And do you have the payment card you provided us with?”
Handing over my credit card, I pull in shallow breaths trying to stay calm as misery consumes me.
“Okay, here is your key, we have you due to check out tomorrow, do you need a wakeup call or any breakfast orders placing?” he asks, his smile never slipping an inch.
“No, I need to extend my stay for a week please,” I say, turning to leave, my new key card gripped tightly in my hand.
“Miss Archibald, I apologize, but I’m afraid your room isn’t available after tomorrow.”
“Okay, just book me into a different suite,” I say.
“I’m afraid all of the suites are booked for the next five days, we have a large group of guests that have reserved all of the suites, as well as both penthouse apartments. We do have standard rooms available,” he says, his infuriating smile still firmly fixed in place.
“Oh my god, are you serious,” I shriek, the tears I’ve been fighting to hold back finally breaking free.
“Please accept my apologies Miss Archibald, I can check at our sister hotel in Brooklyn.”
“No,” I snap, waving my hand at him. “Fine, just give me the key to my new room and I’ll move now, there’s no point waiting until the morning,” I cry, looking away, not wanting him to see my composure slip even further.
“Of course,” he says, clicking at the keys on the keyboard for a second. “Here is your new key, your room is 459. Call down to reception once you’re ready and I can send Henry up to assist you with your luggage if you need, and please feel free to order anything you’d like on room service as an apology for your inconvenience. Can I book you a wakeup call or breakfast?”
“No,” I snap, grabbing the key from him and walking away before he has a chance to say another word.
It only takes me a few minutes to collect my handful of possessions from my suite and move them to my new standard room. By the time I’m lying on my bed, staring at the tiny room around me, my tears refuse to stay in anymore and I collapse in a heap of loud uncontrollable sobs.
I’m not sure if I’m crying for the loss of my old life, the money, or the prestige, or if I’m just crying because I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Whatever the reason I sob until my eyes are gritty and swollen and the pillow beneath my head is wet.
Grabbing my cell, I do what I’ve been doing for the last four years, I dial my mom’s number, knowing that she will tell me what to do. Only instead of the mother who has spent every day for the last few years shaping both me and my life into what she wants, I’m met with a recorded robotic message advising that this number has been disconnected.
I dial my father’s number next and receive the same message. My fingers are trembling as I dial the house number and I sag with relief when someone answers.
“Archibald residence.”
“Hi could I speak to Vanessa please,” I say.
“Who’s calling please?”
“It’s Carrigan, her daughter.”
“Oh,” the unfamiliar female voice says. “I’m afraid your parents aren’t here, they’re out of the country.”
“Who are you? Where’s Mrs. Humphries?” I demand.
“I’m the new housekeeper, Geraldine. Your parents advised me that they have no immediate plans to return to the house this year,” she says, sounding unsure.
“Right, of course,” I say, forcing my voice to become polite and calm. “Just to make you aware, I’ll be sending a moving firm around in the next few days to collect my belongings.”
“Err, I’m afraid, Mr. & Mrs. Archibald have given me strict instructions not to allow anyone access to the house.”
Closing my eyes I suck in a slow breath, scoffing lightly. “Of course. That’s fine, thank you,” I say slowly, then end the call. My parents have gone, they’ve disconnected their cells and banned me from the house. I can’t even go and get my clothes. This is their way of punishing me, because there’s nothing they can do about the money, it’s gone, but they can do this. They can
