Showmanship

15 - Make Him Pay The Bill!

Make Him Pay The Bill!

     "This was a horrible idea," I let out slowly, remembering the price I had to pay for the hotel.

    It was a normal hotel. The one my family usually stayed in when we had work in the center of London. Dorothy was staring at it like it was the castle.

    "We could have gone to a motel," she suggested. She had suggested it earlier too, and Christine had suggested it when we told her this plan.

    "So we can be murdered by whoever owns it." I didn't exactly believe I would be murdered if I went to any other place but this one, but I didn't need more problems that I couldn't control. Not after this big, big, big, problem. "No thank you."

    Dorothy's face was almost well worth the money.

   "Please tell me you've been to nicer places than this?" I asked.

   She didn't answer, her mouth agape as she watched the vale parking. "You pay people to steal your car?"

    "Dorothy, you had an album make it on Billboard's Top 20," I continued. "How have you not heard of vale?"

    "Hello ma'am may I help you with-!"

   "Hey!" Dorothy yelled out, dragging her bag closer to her chest.

   One of the hotel staff horrifyingly threw his arms out in front of him.

    "Dorothy no!" I yelled.

    "What? So Britain can afford suits for your homeless but can't get them homes!" Dorothy angrily gestured to the staff. She would drop kick someone soon if I didn't get her to the room.

    "I'm so - so sorry," he stuttered out.

    "Dorothy! Dorothy!" I tried to explain to the best of my ability.  "It's the staff. They help you with your bag! They park your car if you drove one here!"

   She only stared at me, now in more confusion than wonder. "That's the most excessive thing I've ever heard."

   Meeting my dad will be fun then.

   "Just give the man your bag so I can call my mom, please?" My voice was oddly causal, and I think she could tell how tired I was because she gave the man our bags without a complaint.

   Or she trusted me enough to go ahead and give the man that she expected to be a robber our belongings. I trusted her enough not to talk to her like she was fragile china anymore.

    The man walked off. What little hair the old man had was a mess, and he was mumbling something under his breath. I gave it three hours before we got kicked out.

    I took out my phone. The cars behind me screeching and zooming off to wherever there destination was. I had to figure out where are destination would be, and then I would have to call my mom. She had no idea I was meeting dad or taking his money. She deserved to know that, at least.

    I opened up my phone, staring at the screen. My mom's contact. The number I typed in to be able to call my dad. I had never thought of making it to that point again. I never wanted to.

    Dorothy cleared her throat. I couldn't tell from staring at my phone as what she had done, or what she had gotten herself into now.

   I looked up at her. Her blonde hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes that held so much emotion. She shook her head. No grins or smiles. Only one serious expression.

   "How does he know where our rooms are?" Dorothy asked.

    And then I remembered that this particular hotel did not take your bags to your room.