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“We have two rooms reserved under Daphne McFadden,” Daphne said, and then added their publisher’s name.
“Oh!” The young woman’s eyes rounded, and she fished under the desk, pulling up a copy of Edge. She laid it in front of Chris. “Could you sign this, please?”
Apparently, the booking had also included Zane’s name. He smiled and took her pen with a flourish. Then he glanced at her name tag.
“Make it out to Millie?” he said.
“What?” She frowned. Then her eyes widened again. “Oh. No, it’s not for me.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not my thing, really.”
He smiled. “Zombies aren’t for everyone.”
“It’s about zombies? No, I mean reading.”
He kept the smile on. “‘Books are for English class, amirite?’”
Daphne gave a soft laugh at his quoting that website.
Millie laughed louder. “Exactly. I haven’t cracked open a book since they made me read Moby-Dick.”
“Ouch. Never finished that myself. By page twenty, I was rooting for the whale.” He lowered his voice and said, “Most books aren’t what you read in school. Find the right one, and it’s even better than TV. Books have more time to dive into character and emotion.”
He’d thought it was a game try, but he could tell he was losing her, so he trailed off and left it at that. Too bad, really. He might have rolled his eyes at that website line, but English class had turned more people off reading than time-table memorization had turned them off math. Which was a damn shame, on both counts.
“So make the book out to…?” he prodded, pen over the title page.
“Oh, just sign it. Lots of authors stay here, and the manager says it makes them feel good if we ask them to sign a copy of their book.”
“I see.”
“Between us, I think he sells them on eBay.”
“Ah.”
Chris wrote: To the manager of the Rosemont Hotel. Thank you for the lovely stay. Then he added a scribble that was nothing like his Zane signature.
“Done.” He closed the book and slid it over. “Now, if we could have our room keys.”
“Your rooms aren’t ready. Check-in is at four.”
“Our company arranged early check-in for after two.”
Millie checked her watch. “It’s three.”
“After two. Three comes after two.”
Hmm, it seemed that asshole Zane wasn’t completely gone, after all. Just lying low until required. In this case, though, it didn’t matter. Millie had given their rooms to people who’d been there at two, because they weren’t.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll wait in the bar. Where would I find that?” He looked around the tiny lobby.
“Find what?” Millie said.
“The bar? Or restaurant?”
She shrugged. “We don’t have one.”
“Is there one nearby?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not old enough to drink.”
