by Anne Eliot
Once I’m out of sight, I dart fast down a corridor that takes me to the next corridor, and then into a huge commercial kitchen. It’s bustling full of people who don’t notice me or seem to care that I’m there. Thankful for my black-and-white interview outfit, I realize, besides the flip-flops, I blend in with the other wait-staff. Quickly, I pick up an empty tray from a dish rack and follow a waiter carrying some food. He leads me out into what turns out to be this huge conference room. It’s full of hundreds of people sitting at banquet tables. Better, it has dimmed lights because there’s a keynote speaker talking up front, one who has everyone’s rapt attention.
No one even looks at me twice. I relax a little when I realize Angel’s not caught up to me yet.
Skirting the wall that’s lined with waiters and waitresses who are manning the water and coffee stations, I think only about the hotel map I’ve memorized. I know this conference room is very near to the parking structure which means there must be a back exit that will get me to Sage and our car as fast as possible. If I navigate properly, he and I can drive out of here and disappear in the next five minutes.
Ducking out an opposite side door, it clicks and locks behind me. I find myself in a long marble hallway. I realize too late, I’ve guessed the wrong direction because marble floors mean the main lobby is near, and the main lobby was the one place I wanted to avoid.
Walking quickly, I hope for a different option, but all the doors I’m passing say only: DO NOT OPEN, FIRE EXIT ONLY, ALARM WILL SOUND.
Considering I’m trying to hide and I’m not about to set off any alarms on purpose, I brace myself with the idea that from here, I’ll need to suck it up and go out the front door, then walk all the way down the front walkway to access the garage.
Composing my expression, I work to secure the band on the interview bun that’s now loosening on top of my head. As I reach the end of the hallway, I slow my steps so it looks like I’m not running for my life and prepare to blend into the crowd. Sadly, when I enter the lobby, it’s not crowded how it was earlier. Now, it’s nearly empty. There’s only one concierge working the front desk and the tourists seem to have cleared out. It’s like they had a fire alarm, or they’ve closed, or something. Hoping the staff members aren’t all out looking for me, I paste on a poker face and head for the huge, spinning door because it, at least, is going around and around despite the part where no one is coming in, and no one is going out.
No one, besides, me, that is.
I jump in, and when I exit, my eyes catch on a crowd of hotel employees who are gathered all to one side. They, along with a whole bunch of tourists, are holding up phones and filming something while pointing toward this extra-long limousine that’s parked in the entryway. As I try to figure out what’s happening, a second limo pulls up and everyone starts to cheer. It’s the biggest limo I’ve ever seen, so big that if I had my phone, I’d take a quick video of it, too. There are no other cars, meaning our Subaru is not here like I’d worried it might be, nor are any other cars here.
It’s like they’ve cleared the whole portico, and better, far to the left there’s a whole bigger crowd of screaming people who are penned in behind some fancy velvet barricades with security guards holding them all back.
Security guards who are not looking at me or for me.
The larger group of people, just like the hotel guests and tourists cheering on my side, are all holding signs, cellphones and/or jumping up and down and have their eyes fixed on this bigger limo.
I realize this must be the Guarderobe band from the poster, and that they’re making an appearance or something. Happy for the diversion that makes me invisible, but sad that my brother is missing out, I make a beeline for the furthest, emptiest sidewalk that leads out of here. I’m almost at the end of the drive when the monster limo starts up as though it’s about to pull away, which makes the people scream and scream even louder, but it only pulls forward. That’s when a third limo—a mega sized one just as huge and crazy as the first one on the line-up—pulls in and parks right next to where I’m walking. I don’t look at it, only keep my head down and my feet moving.
Some dude, a security guard or someone from behind me shouts, “Young lady. Stop. That’s a restricted area. You are not supposed to be over there.”
Without glancing back, I ramp-up my pace.
Should I run? What would they do?
“Young lady!” I hear a clatter of footsteps heading in my direction and I’m about to sprint when the door of this new limo swings open wide. Suddenly someone’s blocking my way.
“Robin!” Gregory, the man I met while in the human resources office steps out of this new limo like he, too, is in a hurry.
I crash into him so hard I almost fall.
“There you are. Thank God we found you so quickly. I hope you’re not offended by this intrusion into your plans with your brother, but we thought we would at least try to ask you to help us one more time.”
He’s stopped me from toppling over, then, without taking his hands off my upper arm, he shouts over my head, “It’s okay. This one is our friend! She’s with the band. You can all stand down, and thank you very much for your security diligence.”
Gregory blinks down at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I’m trying not to squirm under his grip or sound panicked. I point helplessly down the drive. “Thanks for the save. I got stuck in the crowd area and bam, there you were and so, yeah, I was heading out—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “That’s what we were afraid of, so it’s a relief to see you again, and just in time. Robin to the rescue. That’s what we are hoping for, anyhow.” He chuckles. “In retrospect, we should have never let you leave our sights.”
I frown, wondering at the word rescue. “Is the baby… Mrs. Felix? Are they okay?”
“The little one is still sound asleep, thank God.” He points into the dark limo. “We’re having such a problem, and it’s holding us all up, but didn’t they explain that?”
“Uh—I didn’t—no.” I risk a fast glance behind me.
He bends down to the limo and reaches in, pulling out a square, plastic car seat base. “It’s got a bottom and a top that we can get to click together, but we have no clue how to make it stick to the seat. We’re about to drive out of here, but no one wants to risk the baby’s safety. Could you jump in here? Have a look? Do you know how these work?”
I glance doubtfully at Gregory and then back at this second gigantic limo, noting how it’s stuffed full of people. I spot Mrs. Felix seated nearest the door, holding the baby, and she gives me a small wave.
“Um. I do know how to install these—but—” I glance into the dark limo then back at Gregory who’s holding out the base of the car seat for me to take.
“Please, could you help us, then?” Gregory blinks, frowning some now.
“I’d be happy to help you, but…”
“And we will pay you,” he adds.
“That’s not necessary,” I say, searching for open spots between the bushes lining the fancy drive should I suddenly need to run through them.
“Then, what is necessary, young lady, please?” Gregory asks. “We’re rather desperate.”
I glance back at the limo. “I hope you’ll understand—because I do think you and Mrs. Felix are wonderful, but see, I wasn’t raised to hop into running cars that are filled with a whole bunch of people. Especially cars that appear to be crowded, cars with very dark tinted windows, and cars with people that might look, well…” I point at the large figures sitting in the back seats. “Shady?”
A guy calls out, laughing, “I think she called us and the ride shady.”
A different, rumbling-low voice calls out next. “It’s not a car, it’s a limo. A new, Cadillac Limousine, no less.”
“You will stop your cynicism, Royce. Especially when all of this is your fault, considering everything.” Mrs. Felix’s voice drifts out to me over some more whispered laughing.
I work
to ignore them and focus on Gregory. “Sir, I don’t care if it’s a Ford Pinto or a little red wagon. I won’t get in unless the thing is emptied out, and unless the engine is not running. If you can do that, I can install the seat for you.”
“Although it’s rather inconvenient, you have good points, young lady.” He calls into the limo, “I applaud her response. She’s got a wise head on her shoulders, which confirms our opinion of you.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” I shake my head, wondering how and why these people had the time to form an opinion about me.
The obnoxious guy calls out again, “What? You can’t be serious. Uncle Gregory. Please. This is insanity. This whole situation—and this baby—has made everyone morph into complete mental patients!”
“You, especially, insta-daddy,” a girl quips, laughing at the end of it.
“One more joke about that, and I will deck every single one of you,” the cynical guy grumbles.
“Let’s do what she says. Do we have any other choice?” A different, calm, male voice has asked that question. “It would be wrong to drive away without it done exactly right.”
Gregory sighs like they’ve all annoyed him. “Would you allow Mrs. Felix and the baby to remain in the limo? It’s rather difficult to get her, the wheelchair, as well as the baby in and out and,” he glances over his shoulder then drops his voice to a very quiet whisper to say, “See, we’ve worked hard to run these decoy limos in here, all because we don’t want the baby photographed.”
I nod as he points to the other limos then leans to speak into the darkened car doorway. “Guys. I actually think Robin’s idea is going to help the overall need for some serious distractions here. The entourage that’s squished uncomfortably in here can fill up the other limos, while the guys greet the crowd, then return here. It will make perfect sense. Come on now. Meet and greet. Let’s make it quick. Besides those poor fans look as if they’ve been here all day. We should give a nice memory to people who weren’t lucky enough to land tickets to the show, right?”
Royce calls out again, “I’m staying in with my grandmother. We don’t know this Robin girl, as much as she doesn’t know us. It’s only fair.”
Mrs. Felix commands, “People. Out. Royce, take the baby, then and go to the farthest corner so you don’t scare her with your brooding ways. Everyone else, you do what you can to keep the eyes and cameras trained away from this baby. Agreed? Take lots of those selfie things.”
“Oh God. Please. No selfies.” A new voice—another guy—sighs like he’s in pain.
Gregory, still biting back his smile, hands me the car seat base, then walks around to explain it all to the chauffeur. After a small argument, the man turns off the engine, walks back around to our side, and hands me the keys, shaking his head before turning to open the double limousine doors to let everyone out.
The first to exit is a beautiful guy with wavy white-blond hair who mutters as he passes, “Look, little bossy girl, you’re going to somehow owe us for the madness you’re about to create. I hate this part of the job, got me?”
I nod like I’ve agreed with him, but I have no clue what he’s talking about.
A girl with messy blondish-brown hair all pulled up into a wild bun follows next, almost tripping on her ultra-long hippie skirt. She pauses to give me the once-over, only it’s all done with a smile, and what feels like simple curiosity and zero judgment, which makes me immediately like her. “Don’t worry. Take your time. They’re all spoiled crybabies. Without this part of the job.” She points at the screaming fans. “There is no job, really. They know that.”
Next comes a ginger-brownish haired guy, who whispers, “Thanks for getting the seat in right for us,” before he quickly dashes past so I can’t get a good look at him. A few people in suits and dresses push out behind him next. They pause to whisper between themselves, and after chatting with Gregory, they all hop into the empty decoy limos. I hardly look at any of them at this point, because I’m so startled by the noise of the crowd that’s now gone insane.
Holy cow. If I weren’t freaked this situation would be very cool.
The baby I met belongs to Mrs. Felix’s grandson.
He’s a Guarderobe band member and he’s the dirt bag daddy who made Mrs. Felix cry.
That’s why they didn’t want me to talk about the baby.
And…Sage is going to die when I tell him how I made them all get out of their limo.
My mind flips back to Sage and I have the urge to change my mind, hand back the car seat base and run, because this is all really overwhelming, but just then, Angel as well as Mrs. Hildebrandt exit the giant spinning door I came through a few moments ago. They’ve caught up to me, but thankfully, instead of assuming I’m down here by the limos, they’re scanning the screaming crowd.
Mrs. Hildebrandt spots me and starts grabbing the security guard’s arm, pointing at me while talking extra fast. If Mrs. Hildebrandt weren’t wearing heels, I think she’d be running right now.
Panicking, I duck low to hide my face behind the open limo door, and then clutch the car seat base to my chest so I can dive in the limo as fast as I can. Luckily, the grumpy chauffeur does his job and closes the door quickly behind me, just as Angel and Mrs. Hildebrandt head down the walkway.
Chapter 9
I’m disoriented by my own gasping fear and the absolute silence inside the darkened limousine. Even though I’m safe for now, my heartbeats crash into my chest like heavy stones. Knowing I can’t stop the pounding as much as I probably can’t stop the arrest tribunal that’s going on outside this locked limo, I work to control what I can and breathe, in—then out, as calmly as possible while I get my eyes to adjust so I can formulate a new plan.
“Robin,” Mrs. Felix says. Her voice, like earlier today, reminds me of an actress from an old movie. “I’m so thrilled they located you. How wonderful that you were so prompt but, dear girl, it appears you were running. It was not necessary to go so above and beyond in this heat. This is my grandson I spoke of, Royce Devlin. Royce, this is Robin. Do you have a last name, dear?”
“Oh. Robin is fine,” I whisper out, deciding against giving out my last name.
“Please. Above and beyond?” Royce calls out. “This girl was probably running because she couldn’t believe her good luck. You sure picked one hell of a convoluted way to meet our band,” he says directly to me. “I applaud your creativity, tricking a kind old lady and my uncle into liking you, then convincing them, God knows how, into thinking you could help us with a baby. Hilarious.”
“She already did help us, Royce,” Mrs. Felix replies stiffly. “And you, above all people know it’s impossible to trick me into liking someone. Your uncle and I are great judges of character. Please disregard his cynicism, Robin. He’s having a very bad day.”
“That’s what you call this? A bad day? Let’s clarify, Grandmother. It’s possibly the single worst day of my life.”
I nod to Mrs. Felix, and ignore the guy in the corner, wondering if I should dash back out and utilize the open spot in the bushes I just spotted before police join the people standing next to this limo. Deciding I need to stay in here for the moment and try to watch their faces for a sign of what they’re going to do to me, I drag my eyes off Angel and Mrs. Hildebrandt and eye the car seat base. “Where would you like me to install this?”
“Where ever you think is safest, dear.” Mrs. Felix’s eyes follow mine and she taps the window next to her with one manicured fingernail. “Oh look. Mrs. Hildebrandt has arrived. She’s a difficult woman to like, even though she does a good job for the hotel overall. It certainly took her a long time to come through with your whereabouts, though.”
“Mhm…yes,” I mutter, not clear on what she’s talking about. “Have you ever used belts in here, because I don’t see what I need,” I continue quietly still avoiding the tension-bullets being fired at me by Mr. Rockstar in the far corner.
“Who uses seatbelts in a limo? We never have. Not once,” Royce says.
> I don’t respond to him again, only look to Mrs. Felix for an answer.
She shrugs helplessly. “I’m from the generation before seatbelts so I’ve never thought about it while we’re riding in the limos, but, my goodness. Royce is correct. We’ve never used them. Tsk. Tsk. Shame on us.”
“They must be here somewhere.” Swallowing a new flutter of nervousness, I start shoving my hands into the cracks between the seats, hoping I will feel something I recognize while doubly hoping Mrs. Hildebrandt doesn’t drag me out of this limo in front of all of these people.
Mrs. Felix does that funny ‘tsk-tsk’ sound of hers again, and like she’s trying to fill the stretch of silence I’ve created, she chatters on, “I suppose we should use them from now on, shouldn’t we? Now that we have to follow the law and set a good example for the baby, that is. Safety first.” Mrs. Felix feels around her own seat, helping me search. “Our proposition is a good one, and we do like you, dear. What do you think?”
“I uh…like you too, Mrs. Felix? And yes. Um. Yes. You should use seatbelts,” I answer vaguely, one eye on Mrs. Hildebrandt’s expression outside the limo and the other, taking in the endless horseshoe shaped seating layout inside this cab. There’s a small center coffee table thing and a drink serving control panel. At least I think that’s what it is. I pause to check what the buttons say, but finding nothing about seatbelts. Next, I glance underneath the table and even move Mrs. Felix’s wheelchair aside in case something that looks familiar is hiding there. Still baffled, I scoot the seat base two seats over in the direction of Royce’s dark corner and try again.
“Like Gregory mentioned, I insisted that we shall pay you very well, dear, as all of this is such a last-minute plan,” Mrs. Felix adds.
Pausing, I glance up at her. As much as I need money I’m not going to take advantage of a sweet old lady. “Honest, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Felix. I’m happy to help.”
