𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

Chapter 3: Cleaning House

The rattle from the air shaft woke Wren up. It seemed to be getting worse. She groaned as she rolled over to face her alarm clock. It's face read 3:27 in bright red LED. She felt a dull throbbing in her head, and it was only made worse by the rattling from the vent above. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed, trying to ignore the noise. It almost seemed like the sound was causing physical damage to her brain. Though the damage was most likely due to the hangover she was suffering from.

The maintenance line is open 24/7, call them NOW.

Wren firmly snatched the phone off of the receiver and dialed zero. The phone rang and rang, but the ringing eventually stopped and the line went dead.

She sighed in frustration and muttered, "Twenty four hours my ass." Setting the receiver back in its rest, she plopped back down onto the bed with a huff.

She turned back to her alarm clock. 3:28. Two and a half hours until she had to clock into housekeeping.

Might as well get started.

Wren reluctantly began her slow journey to the bathroom. Once there, she sat on the toilet while the shower ran, allowing the steam to fill the room. She briefly considered staying there, allowing the warmth to lull her back to sleep. She contemplated feigning a stomach bug or a cough to take the day off, but she could not bring herself to disappoint a friend, especially not Colette. She forced herself from the toilet lid, stripped down, and entered the shower.

The shower was quick and efficient, and when she was done, she dried herself off and began her morning routine. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed and dried her hair, and then tied it up into a neat bun. Finally, she slipped on her bra, slid on clean of pair socks and underwear, a new blouse, a clean pair of pants, her garish blazer, and her hideous ascot. She fiddled, fussed with, and readjusted the collar of her blouse, and futzed with her hair, as she stared attentively into the mirror. She wanted to, no, needed to look professional.

Wren couldn't remember the last time she had actually spoken to someone from housekeeping, let alone been in that department of the hotel.

Outside of coworkers, like Mark, Cam, and Colette, our boss, who do we interact with? Do we have friends? Not people we're friendly with, but actual friends. Colette is a friend, but...

Wren stopped herself from continuing her depressing train of thought before it drove her to the bar ahead of schedule.

She glanced at her clock on the bedside table, hoping that she had killed a suitable amount of time. Her heart fell in her chest when she saw 4:27 plastered across it's face. An hour and a half to go.

"Fuck me..." she grumbled to herself.

Wren began to pace back and forth from one side of her room to the other like a caged tiger.

She was tempted to take a walk through the hotel to pass the time, but quickly changed her when she realized if a customer came to her for help she'd be obligated to help them. She had no books, no games, and worst of all; no tv. She had been planning to buy a nice little CRT Television from the company store, but she never had enough cash on hand after all her bills were paid for.

She was alone with nothing to do. Nothing to do except listen to the rattling air duct.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'll do it myself." Wren grumbled as she walked towards her bed.

She stepped onto the mattress and onto the headboard. Her chin was level with the floor of the ventilation shaft. Peering through the vent's slits, Wren could see something jittering around in the shadows, but it was far too dark to make out any details.