breakfast? Where’s the real food? I need a protein fix.”
Van and I grabbed a plate and started through the line. The spread was disappointing, heavy on sweets and carbs, and lacking in substantive protein.
I turned to Van. “Do you think they swapped our breakfast with the jewelry ladies’? They’re probably complaining about eggs loaded with cheese, nice fat sausages, and stick-to-the-ribs oatmeal. How are we going to go to combat on this?”
Van just smiled, looking like he could go to combat on an empty stomach.
I finally settled for a cup of yogurt, some granola, and fruit. I think I’d have been better off with my energy bar.
At 0728, we all headed to the FSC bus that was waiting for us out in front of the hotel in the passenger pickup zone. Huff still hadn’t showed. Van asked the driver to wait and ran inside to the front desk to have them ring Huff’s room. Peewee and I tagged along after him.
When the front desk got no response to their call, Peewee tried Huff’s cell. “Voice mail. I think he’s got it turned off.”
Out of options, the three of us headed up to Huff’s room to smoke him out.
Peewee banged on the door with a fist that could’ve doubled as a meat tenderizing mallet. “Huff, you lazy son of a bitch.” He let loose with a string of cursing. “Get up and answer the damn door!”
I would have used politer language. But I wasn’t willing to step in as Miss Manners, not when Peewee was that hacked off. Besides, I had the feeling that foul language was his mother tongue.
A guy in the room next door poked his head out. “What the shit’s going on out here?” That was the genteel part of the spew of curses that followed. Brave, or maybe foolhardy, soul.
Peewee gave him a look that would have silenced me for life. “None of your business.”
Van stepped between them and apologized before things got uglier.
The guy finally ducked back into his room with a slam of his door.
Van turned to us. “Let’s go. Huff’s not here.”
“Where do you think he is?” I asked, frustrated as we gave up on rousing Huff from the hopefully not dead, and headed back to the bus before the driver gave up on us.
“No idea. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Van said, but I noticed he kept glancing back at Huff’s room as we walked to the elevator.
“He better not be off screwing around with one of the jewelry ladies,” Peewee said, sounding more like someone who’s been double-crossed in a business deal than a concerned buddy and fellow CT. Annoyed didn’t even begin to describe his tone.
As I pressed the button to call the elevator, Peewee flicked a glance at me as if he’d suddenly remembered who was with them. “Sorry about back there. Huff’s not a one-woman man. Better you know.”
I blushed, not happy that Van overheard.
“Yeah,” I said distractedly. I had a bad feeling about Huff’s no-show status. A guy didn’t spend thousands of dollars on an extreme vacation, fly up from California to take it and then just blow off the first exciting morning of it. Not even for a quick screw with a babe clad only in fabulous costume jewelry. I turned to Van. “Maybe we should leave word at the front desk to call one of us if Huff shows up.”
Yeah, I’m a bit of a mother hen with a side of worrier thrown in. A habit born from too many years of worrying about adventurous, irrepressible brothers.
Van raised a skeptical eyebrow at me.
As the elevator doors opened at the lobby, I turned toward the front desk, intent on following through.
Van caught my arm. “I’ll take care of it. You two go hold the bus for me.”
Obedient to a fault, I headed toward the bus. At the top of the bus stairs, I paused to look back into the lobby and caught a glimpse of Van flipping open his cell phone before he turned his back to the bus. Now whom would he be calling?
Chapter 6
“No luck?” Jim asked as Peewee and I boarded, and Van ran
Van and I grabbed a plate and started through the line. The spread was disappointing, heavy on sweets and carbs, and lacking in substantive protein.
I turned to Van. “Do you think they swapped our breakfast with the jewelry ladies’? They’re probably complaining about eggs loaded with cheese, nice fat sausages, and stick-to-the-ribs oatmeal. How are we going to go to combat on this?”
Van just smiled, looking like he could go to combat on an empty stomach.
I finally settled for a cup of yogurt, some granola, and fruit. I think I’d have been better off with my energy bar.
At 0728, we all headed to the FSC bus that was waiting for us out in front of the hotel in the passenger pickup zone. Huff still hadn’t showed. Van asked the driver to wait and ran inside to the front desk to have them ring Huff’s room. Peewee and I tagged along after him.
When the front desk got no response to their call, Peewee tried Huff’s cell. “Voice mail. I think he’s got it turned off.”
Out of options, the three of us headed up to Huff’s room to smoke him out.
Peewee banged on the door with a fist that could’ve doubled as a meat tenderizing mallet. “Huff, you lazy son of a bitch.” He let loose with a string of cursing. “Get up and answer the damn door!”
I would have used politer language. But I wasn’t willing to step in as Miss Manners, not when Peewee was that hacked off. Besides, I had the feeling that foul language was his mother tongue.
A guy in the room next door poked his head out. “What the shit’s going on out here?” That was the genteel part of the spew of curses that followed. Brave, or maybe foolhardy, soul.
Peewee gave him a look that would have silenced me for life. “None of your business.”
Van stepped between them and apologized before things got uglier.
The guy finally ducked back into his room with a slam of his door.
Van turned to us. “Let’s go. Huff’s not here.”
“Where do you think he is?” I asked, frustrated as we gave up on rousing Huff from the hopefully not dead, and headed back to the bus before the driver gave up on us.
“No idea. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Van said, but I noticed he kept glancing back at Huff’s room as we walked to the elevator.
“He better not be off screwing around with one of the jewelry ladies,” Peewee said, sounding more like someone who’s been double-crossed in a business deal than a concerned buddy and fellow CT. Annoyed didn’t even begin to describe his tone.
As I pressed the button to call the elevator, Peewee flicked a glance at me as if he’d suddenly remembered who was with them. “Sorry about back there. Huff’s not a one-woman man. Better you know.”
I blushed, not happy that Van overheard.
“Yeah,” I said distractedly. I had a bad feeling about Huff’s no-show status. A guy didn’t spend thousands of dollars on an extreme vacation, fly up from California to take it and then just blow off the first exciting morning of it. Not even for a quick screw with a babe clad only in fabulous costume jewelry. I turned to Van. “Maybe we should leave word at the front desk to call one of us if Huff shows up.”
Yeah, I’m a bit of a mother hen with a side of worrier thrown in. A habit born from too many years of worrying about adventurous, irrepressible brothers.
Van raised a skeptical eyebrow at me.
As the elevator doors opened at the lobby, I turned toward the front desk, intent on following through.
Van caught my arm. “I’ll take care of it. You two go hold the bus for me.”
Obedient to a fault, I headed toward the bus. At the top of the bus stairs, I paused to look back into the lobby and caught a glimpse of Van flipping open his cell phone before he turned his back to the bus. Now whom would he be calling?
Chapter 6
“No luck?” Jim asked as Peewee and I boarded, and Van ran
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