About Face by Adam Gittlin Page A

bottle of cheap champagne floating in it. The corners of the room were adorned with assorted potted plants. The wooden walls held a few simple lithographs of scenes of the Riviera. The solid white ceiling was smooth and undisturbed aside from a couple small spotlights.
    I walked up to the reception counter. I placed my briefcase and Neo’s carrier at my feet. I was greeted by a forty-something female with bobbed red hair and fair skin wearing a navy pants suit with the La Belle Aurore logo on her blazer.
    â€œ
Bonjour,
” she said. “
Comment je peux aider ce soir?
”
    â€œ
Bonjour,
” I responded.
    I had picked up a good amount of French from all my time spent here, but again, I’ll go with the English version to make things easier.
    â€œUnfortunately, my plans changed at the last minute and I don’t have a reservation this evening. I’m hoping you have something available.”
    She looked down at her computer and began typing.
    â€œI do, in fact, have something Mr.—”
    I paused. She looked up.
    â€œGordon,” I said, hoping she didn’t see me swallow. “Roy Gordon.”
    Boarding an airplane as Roy Gordon was one thing. Referring to myself as Roy Gordon was another.
    Her eyes returned to her computer.
    â€œI do have a few available rooms, Mr. Gordon. Unfortunately, they’re all suites. Will this be okay?”
    Little did she know I would have settled for the basement. Or a cabana.
    â€œSure—that will be fine.”
    â€œTerrific,” she went on, “The rate is five hundred seventy euros per night, plus tax. And how many nights will you be staying with us?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” I answered.
    I needed to come up with something, and quick. Not having a clue about how long I was staying would seem suspicious. Or would it? This was all so new.
    â€œMy current plans tell me three nights. But it may be a bit longer, depending on how some business affairs fall into place.”
    That’s the fucking spirit
.
    â€œWill that be okay?”
    â€œIt will be just fine,” she answered, fingers still typing. “I have a beautiful suite with a magnificent view of the gulf.”
    After a few more seconds, her head popped up again.
    â€œYou’re all set, Mr. Gordon. The last thing I need from you is a major credit card to keep on file.”
    I had practiced the upcoming conversation in my head at least twenty times.
    Confidence. Always.
    Own every word that comes out of your mouth.
    â€œUnfortunately, I don’t have one on me,” I said as I reached intomy front pocket. “I lost my wallet somewhere in all of my last-minute-preparation-for-departure errands.”
    I took a wad of euros out of my pocket. Her eyes caught it immediately. I started counting out bills.
    â€œAnyway, American Express is sending a new card. I have been promised it will arrive no later than the day after tomorrow. So why don’t we just handle it this way? You said five hundred seventy euros per night. I’m happy to give you twenty-five hundred euros, which should cover the three nights I’ll definitely be staying as well as any taxes. Sound good?”
    â€œWell, unfortunately, we require a major credit card for reasons other than just room-rate considerations. There are liability issues that—”
    Improv time. Her name tag read Brigette. I smiled and cut her off. “Brigette, I absolutely understand your situation. I really do, you guys have rules. But you don’t have to worry about me trashing the room. I promise you I’m probably the most boring guest you’ll have in here all summer—and I don’t make much noise. If it makes you feel better, I’m happy to give you my passport so you can make a copy for your records.”
    The door closed behind me. We were in the living room. I let Neo out of the carrier for good and tossed his carrier, my gym bag, and my briefcase on one of the