Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 57

    After another few hours' drive, the group filed into another hotel lobby and instinctively drew closer together - this particular hotel was packed, and about a dozen people milled aimlessly around the lobby or lounged in the luxurious sofas.

    "Uh, Ron? Someone might recognize you guys. Maybe we should go find another hotel?" Olivia whispered, but Ronnie shook his head.

    "We can't do that to Brandon, he's already used up most of his energy. We can't make him get in and out of the car again, and make him walk twice as far as usual. Let's just...get a room and get out of here quick."

    Ronnie made a beeline for the front desk, thankfully with an available clerk - at least they wouldn't have to wait in line.

    "Ohhhh, man, The Killers!" the clerk breathed, all the color draining from his face as the group approached. He ogled Brandon and Ronnie as they drew nearer, his eyes almost popping out of his head in shock.

    Ronnie stepped closer to Brandon protectively as they reached the clerk's desk and glanced down to find that his face was bloodless and strained behind his sunglasses, nervousness clear in the hard set of his shoulders.

    "It's okay, B," he murmured, reluctantly moving away and stepping in front of his friend, shielding him from the clerk's view and sneaking a quick glance at his embossed nametag. Olivia stepped up beside him, hastily pulling her wallet from her purse. Behind his back, he felt Tana take his place at Brandon's side, heard her soft whispers of comfort.

    "Shhh, kid," Ronnie hissed, squeezing the grips of his crutches anxiously, beseeching him. "We're trying not to be recognized. We just need two rooms, that's all - one family-sized. Can you do that, Aaron?"

    The young man gulped audibly as Ronnie stared him down, his eyes darting to the several other people gathered in the lobby. "Um - um...yes, s-sir, Ron - uh, Mr. V-Vannucci. Yes, sir," he stammered, his trembling fingers flying over his keyboard.

    "I, um...I love you guys so much," he whispered after a moment, his eyes glued to his computer screen. "Amazing. I mean, I can't believe - oh my god, you're standing right in front of me!" his voice began to rise hysterically, high-pitched and excited, drawing curious looks from the other guests.

    "I said be quiet, kid," Ronnie groaned, glaring daggers at Aaron. He ducked his head sheepishly and mouthed an apology as he accepted Olivia's credit card and swiped it, waiting a few seconds before retrieving keycards from his desk drawer and handing the credit card back to Olivia.

    "Here you are, Mr. Vannucci," he said, his voice hushed and his face red with embarrassment. Ronnie reached for the cards, but Aaron pulled them back an inch or so, swallowing nervously and glancing at a pad of sticky notes beside them.

    "Wait, I - um...could I - could I..." Ronnie huffed impatiently, but obliged and snatched a pen from his desk, scribbling his autograph on a neon yellow note. Sliding the pad across the desk to the clerk, he grabbed the hotel keycards.

    "There you go, Aaron. Thanks for the help. Not a word to anyone until we check out, alright?" The clerk nodded vigorously, his eyes wide. "Great. Have a good night."

    He turned to herd the group to the elevators, but a shaky whisper stopped him. "I um...Mr. Flowers, sir, could I - um, could I maybe - uh, maybe get your autograph too? Please?"

    "He's not feeling so great, kid, we've gotta go," Ronnie said shortly, eying Brandon's pale, sickly skin warily. He looks like he's gonna pass out or something - we've never had to deal with this kind of thing...not yet.