and likely wouldn’t have appreciated me talking to invisible people right in front of his kids. After a moment of awkward silence, though, the man just nodded and shepherded his family inside and up to the reception desk.
Mark had his face set in an expression I knew too well. It was the “fuckers didn’t tip me” look. Which could only mean . . .
“Booked online?” I asked him.
“Yep,” Mark said. “And not only that, but some discount site.”
I groaned in sympathy. “So I shouldn’t expect anything, then, huh?”
“Who knows? They might surprise you. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” He touched his hand to his earpiece. “They’re in 419.”
“All right. I’m off, then.” I saluted and pushed the cart toward the service elevator. Chris caught up with me.
“What’s wrong with booking hotels online?” he asked. “I thought that was the way of the future. Everybody books online.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But people who book fancy hotels online are usually getting some kind of special deal pricing, so they’re getting hotels that they normally couldn’t afford.”
“Which is terrible. How dare they.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, it’s great for them,” I admitted. “But people who don’t stay in luxury hotels very often don’t realize that they’re supposed to tip. So they don’t. Or they tip badly.”
“You’re really hung up on this tip thing.”
I pushed the button to open the service elevator and then shrugged. “It’s my living, man. They don’t pay me worth shit here because they assume I’m getting tipped.”
Chris just stared at me blankly. I sighed. “You wouldn’t understand. You have money and you don’t have to wonder how you’re going to pay the bills.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I can still understand it.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “You probably have all your bills on auto-pay.”
He stared at me blankly again.
I laughed. “Dude, you don’t even understand what a luxury auto-pay is. You can only be on auto-pay if you’re sure the money will be there when the day rolls around.”
“How much do you make?” he asked, peering at me.
I made a face. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business,” Chris said. “Everything about you is my business.”
My eyebrows shot up so far they almost got lost under my bellboy cap. “ How is everything about me your business?”
“Well, you’re my ride. So until we figure out how I can move on, I’m at your mercy and so I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“I have a hole-in-the-wall apartment and a beat-up TV that has a weird green spot in the top-right corner,” I said. “So clearly I’m not rolling in the dough.”
“You have a nice suit, though.”
“Company-provided,” I told him. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and I wheeled the cart out and down the hall to room 419. I paused in front of the door and eyed Chris. “Please be quiet. I’m begging you.”
“I was quiet,” he said. “I was playing with a pigeon and I was very well-behaved.”
“True,” I admitted. “But still. Quiet.”
“Fine, fine.” He crossed his arms and poked out his bottom lip.
I knocked on the door and was immediately greeted by the father of the family, who gave me a very sour look.
“About time,” he grumbled. “Mary was about to call down to the desk.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “The service elevator can be a little slow. I have your luggage. Where would you like me to unload it?”
The man scowled at me. “Just inside the door. We’ll put it where it goes.”
“Yes, sir.” I unloaded the heavy suitcases just inside the door and stepped back outside, but before I could even turn around, the door slammed unceremoniously shut behind me.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Wow, he was a dick.”
“At least he didn’t collapse and get blood all over the carpet,” I pointed out. “So he’s better than some people I could mention.”
“Blood?” he
Mark had his face set in an expression I knew too well. It was the “fuckers didn’t tip me” look. Which could only mean . . .
“Booked online?” I asked him.
“Yep,” Mark said. “And not only that, but some discount site.”
I groaned in sympathy. “So I shouldn’t expect anything, then, huh?”
“Who knows? They might surprise you. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” He touched his hand to his earpiece. “They’re in 419.”
“All right. I’m off, then.” I saluted and pushed the cart toward the service elevator. Chris caught up with me.
“What’s wrong with booking hotels online?” he asked. “I thought that was the way of the future. Everybody books online.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But people who book fancy hotels online are usually getting some kind of special deal pricing, so they’re getting hotels that they normally couldn’t afford.”
“Which is terrible. How dare they.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, it’s great for them,” I admitted. “But people who don’t stay in luxury hotels very often don’t realize that they’re supposed to tip. So they don’t. Or they tip badly.”
“You’re really hung up on this tip thing.”
I pushed the button to open the service elevator and then shrugged. “It’s my living, man. They don’t pay me worth shit here because they assume I’m getting tipped.”
Chris just stared at me blankly. I sighed. “You wouldn’t understand. You have money and you don’t have to wonder how you’re going to pay the bills.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I can still understand it.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “You probably have all your bills on auto-pay.”
He stared at me blankly again.
I laughed. “Dude, you don’t even understand what a luxury auto-pay is. You can only be on auto-pay if you’re sure the money will be there when the day rolls around.”
“How much do you make?” he asked, peering at me.
I made a face. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business,” Chris said. “Everything about you is my business.”
My eyebrows shot up so far they almost got lost under my bellboy cap. “ How is everything about me your business?”
“Well, you’re my ride. So until we figure out how I can move on, I’m at your mercy and so I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“I have a hole-in-the-wall apartment and a beat-up TV that has a weird green spot in the top-right corner,” I said. “So clearly I’m not rolling in the dough.”
“You have a nice suit, though.”
“Company-provided,” I told him. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and I wheeled the cart out and down the hall to room 419. I paused in front of the door and eyed Chris. “Please be quiet. I’m begging you.”
“I was quiet,” he said. “I was playing with a pigeon and I was very well-behaved.”
“True,” I admitted. “But still. Quiet.”
“Fine, fine.” He crossed his arms and poked out his bottom lip.
I knocked on the door and was immediately greeted by the father of the family, who gave me a very sour look.
“About time,” he grumbled. “Mary was about to call down to the desk.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “The service elevator can be a little slow. I have your luggage. Where would you like me to unload it?”
The man scowled at me. “Just inside the door. We’ll put it where it goes.”
“Yes, sir.” I unloaded the heavy suitcases just inside the door and stepped back outside, but before I could even turn around, the door slammed unceremoniously shut behind me.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Wow, he was a dick.”
“At least he didn’t collapse and get blood all over the carpet,” I pointed out. “So he’s better than some people I could mention.”
“Blood?” he
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