Dating the Dead • lrh

26. the strands

"Good evening Miss Beatrice, good evening sir, welcome to The Strands," a cheeky security guard greeted us as we walked into the hotel.

Minutes before I stepped foot into the lavish lobby, a valet had taken my bike and it was beyond embarrassing. At least I was able to hand him my chain keys.

As Shelby engaged in a conversation with the front desk attendant, I found myself wandering near the entrance. I glanced outside through the pristine glass, the valet drove a red Porsche to the parking space. It made me wonder where he chained my bike.

The man who owned the Porsche passed by me and I never felt any more insecure than I did now. He was clad in a crisp black suit while I was in my ripped jeans and shirt purposely torn in places.

What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.

While I was momentarily distracted by Radiohead's song, Shelby was talking to the Porsche owner. She saw me staring and waved me over. When I joined them, she instantly linked our arms.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Luke," Hugo Collins said once Shelby introduced us to each other.

I shook his held out hand. "Pleasure meeting you, too."

"I'll go on ahead, Beatrice. See you later," Hugo shook her hand and then gave me a small nod, "Luke."

As we watched him head for the lift, I turned to her. "What's with everyone calling you 'Beatrice'?"

Shelby opened her mouth but was interrupted before she could utter a word. "Well if it isn't Michelle Beatrice Lawler."

A guy about our age was walking towards us. He was, to say the least, dazzling, literally. His bright orange curls seemed to be competing with his abnormally white skin. I'm very much exaggerating but so was he in his white tuxedo with black accents.

I heard Shelby say something like 'Yowan Shmit' but I was too busy being self-conscious to care. I wasn't really paying attention, only when he held out his hand for me to shake. When I took it, he smirked then turned to Shelby, "You don't mind if I borrow him for a bit."

He didn't sound like he was asking, more like announcing. He did not even wait for Shelby to respond as he pulled me a bit away from her.

"What's this about?" I furrowed my eyebrows they might as well have joined together.

He breathed out a puff of air through his nose, the way you would when it's stuffed and you just want the snot out of it.

"About Beatrice of course," he spoke in a thick Irish accent, something I haven't noticed before. "You see, she is rather incorrigible. I hope you are aware of that. So, a piece of advice, don't get too attached because in a few days, she'd barely recognize you."

I distanced myself from him as far as his arm around my shoulder would allow. "I don't understand."

He stretched his lips into a sinister smile. "She didn't tell you, did she?" He said then shrugged. "If I had a memory like her, I would do the same. After all, it wouldn't matter anyway, it wouldn't take long to forget you."

To say I was stunned and confused would be an understatement. I couldn't even form a response.

"Cheers," he gave me a pat on the back and left me.

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