He grinned. “Here they are. The next two members of America’s Cheer.”
“We’re glad to have you,” the woman on the other side of the counter welcomed us.
Nalani.
Showing no recognition of us, she handed Beaker and me each a big white envelope and card key. “Inside you’ll find everything you need. Event schedule, mealtimes, workouts . . . If you need anything while staying here at Hotel Marquess, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I glanced at TL to see if I could recognize a hint of love, pain, sorrow, or longing. But I saw nothing except the same fake I’m-so-happy-to-be-here face.
“Unfortunately,” Nalani continued, “the room you had been preassigned to is still occupied by yesterday’s visitors.”
My face dropped a little.
“They decided to stay an additional day. But they’ve scheduled an early checkout for tomorrow, so we’ll have things ironed out in no time.”
I glanced at TL, but he was still smiling as if this bit of information was no big deal.
“We’ll put you in another room for tonight and then relocate you to your preassigned room in the morning.” Nalani pointed down a marble-floored hallway. “Elevators are there. You’re in room three-zero-three. I’ll let the bellman know where to take your luggage.”
TL knuckle-tapped the counter. “Let’s go, girls.”
Sounds from the lobby faded as we strode down the hall to the elevators. TL pressed the button, and we stood waiting. I was dying to ask him what was going on.
Seconds later, the elevator dinged open and out poured a pack of bubbly girls.
“Hi!” A few of them chirped.
“Hi!” A few more echoed.
“Hi!” Beaker and I returned, our grins in place.
They shuffled by, and we three stepped inside. The door slid closed, and Beaker’s smile fell away.
“Ack.” She grabbed her throat. “I think I’m going to hurl. This is my worst nightmare come true. Hi!” she sarcastically imitated them. “My name’s Pixy, and I don’t have a cell in my brain. But I know how to do a toe touch. Woo.”
I turned to TL. “What’s going on? If we don’t get in our room tonight, that means we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to access the equip—”
TL cleared his throat and shook his head. He brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. Stay in character.
I sighed.
Beaker slumped back against the elevator wall. “I need gum,” she grumbled.
TL cleared his throat again, and Beaker rolled her eyes up to his.
He brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. Stay in character. He narrowed his gaze ever so slightly. Or else. He rubbed his eye. Camera watching.
Smoothing my fingers down my ponytail, I surreptitiously glanced up. Sure enough, in the upper-left corner sat a mini-camera hidden in a speaker. From David’s hotel specs, I should’ve known that, but in my momentary frustration, I’d forgotten.
Reluctantly, Beaker pushed away from the elevator wall. Her scowl inched upward into her rendition of a pleasant face.
The elevator dinged open, and we stepped out. We read the number sign and took a left. Room three-zero-three sat halfway down the hallway.
TL followed us in and shut the door. “Don’t worry about the room.”
“I know, but I wanted to get a start on figuring out the equipment and reviewing the plans,” I said.
“Well, things happen, and plans need to change. We can’t control what others do. We’ll get you moved into the correct room tomorrow. We’ll be a little behind schedule, but not too bad. There’s nothing on the cheerleading schedule until tomorrow, so feel free to order room service if you want.” He opened our door. “I’m in room three-twelve. See you tomorrow.”
"B-Y-E. Bye,” Beaker mumbled.
“I heard that,” TL called.
He closed the door, and I set my laptop down. “This sucks.”
“Yeah, but, oh well. Nothing we can do about it.”
Logic told me she was right. But it still sucked.
Tossing down the rest of my stuff, I looked around. A bathroom lay immediately to the left of the door and was decorated with the same gold-and-marble design of the lobby. The shower and toilet each had its own separate little room. Pretty cool.
Farther inside, two king-size beds occupied the majority of the room, decorated with burgundy-and-white comforters and pillows. A long shark had been engraved on each headboard, and, as Nalani said, the fin would release the hidden compartment—in the correct room, of course.
A deluxe wood desk sat in the corner with a brown leather chair in front.
Gauzy curtains covered a medium-size window that looked out over the sun-sparkling ocean.
Matching the color scheme, standard hotel carpet covered the floor.
All in all, it was a great room.
Beaker flopped across the bed closest to the window. “I haven’t even been here an hour and my jaw already hurts from smiling.”
Mine did, too, actually.
Unzipping the front pocket of my backpack, I pulled out a pack of gum. “Here.”
Beaker eyed it warily. “What is it?”
I lifted my brows. “Gum. What do you think it is? Poison?”
She gave me a skeptical look. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Rolling my eyes, I tossed it onto her bed. “Because I’m a nice person.”
Beaker snorted, and I turned away, busying myself by reading the Barracuda Key pamphlets on the desk.
Behind me, a wrapper crinkled, and I smiled.
TL and David had done the same thing for me on my first mission, giving me lollipops when I least expected it. It’d always made me feel cozy, comforted, and, well . . . loved.
“Ya know”—chew, snap, chew— “you’d think with all the gum I chew, my jaw would be strong enough for the smiling.”
It wasn’t often Beaker made casual, nonhostile conversation with me. I turned around, hoping I wouldn’t screw up the moment. “Different set of muscle groups.”
Staring at the ceiling, she grunted her agreement.
So far so good. “Don’t let anybody catch you chewing that.”
Beaker blew a huge pink bubble, and it silently popped. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
I dug around in my backpack, searching for nothing in particular. “So why do you chew so much gum?”
Silence.
I dug a little deeper, keeping my hands busy.
More silence.
Great, GiGi. Good job. Way to screw up a rare, sort-of-friendly moment with Beaker.
She sniffed, and I glanced up.
“Um . . .” she started, still staring at the ceiling. “It controls my anger.”
Okay. Not what I’d expected her to say. But it made sense with the way she always furiously chomped it. “You must have a lot of anger.”
She half laughed. “You have no idea.”
I found a lollipop in the bottom of my pack. “So what happens if you don’t get your gum? Do you explode or something?”
Beaker rolled her head over and looked at me. “Probably.”
We both smiled.
She scrunched her face. “Gets pretty bad, actually. I’ve cussed people out. Hit things.”
“Well, remind me to always have emergency gum on hand.”
That comment earned a chuckle.
I peeled the wrapper from my lollipop and slipped the blackberry flavor into my mouth. “You should do yoga or something.”
Beaker snorted. “Puh-lease.” She scooted across the bed, grabbed the room service menu, and began browsing. A few seconds passed.
“Um . . .” she began and then her voice trailed away. “You doing okay? Ya know, with everything’s that’s going on? Your parents, this mission, blah, blah, blah.”
Smiling a little, I sat down in the desk chair. I totally hadn’t expected that. Blah, blah, and all. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. Thanks for asking.”
She nodded a little and c
ontinued studying the menu. “What do you want to eat?” And that question effectively ended our tiny little heart-to-heart.
Early The next morning Our room’s phone rang. While I scrambled for the phone, Beaker pulled the covers over her head.
“Hullo,” I mumbled into the receiver.
“Good morning,” Nalani greeted me in her polite, hotel voice. “Your preassigned room will be ready in one hour. The Hotel Marquess is sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you. Please enjoy breakfast on us.”
She hung up the phone, and I fumbled to return the handset to the base. While Beaker grabbed a few more minutes of sleep,
I got showered and dressed and began packing what little I’d taken out for the night. Beaker finally got up and did the same.
We skipped the free breakfast, moved our things to our preassigned room, and began unpacking. I turned on my laptop and connected to the ranch’s mainframe right as our door clicked. We both jerked around.
“Lord have mercy!” A petite Asian girl wandered in, talking to someone behind her. “Wait ’til you see this place!”
I looked at Beaker.
What’s going on? She mouthed.
I shrugged.
The Asian girl gasped. “Look! The toilet’s got its own tiny room!”
“Hello?” I ventured.
The girl spun around. “Hi!”
The girl behind the first girl came up beside her. “Hi!”
I glanced from one small face to the other and then back to the first. Twins.
“We’re twins!” They announced.
I smiled. “I see that!”
And I couldn’t care less. All I wanted to know was what they were doing here in our prearranged private room, located directly below the one and only presidential suite where Eduardo Villanueva would be staying.
“I’m Lessy!” the first girl introduced, pointing to herself.
“I’m Jessy!” The second girl parroted.
“And we’re your roommates!”
[8]
Beaker and I stayed rooted to our spots, staring at the twin Asian girls with the southern accents.
Lessy and Jessy.
Or was it Jessy and Lessy?
“Did you say roommates?” Beaker asked.
The twins nodded enthusiastically.
I kept smiling while my brain scrambled to make sense of things.
“Sorry.” Beaker laughed, covering my silence. “We thought our roommates were going to be someone else,” she lied.
Lessy, or maybe Jessy, frowned. “Is there something wrong with us?”
“No.” Beaker pushed up from her bed. “Not at all.” She crossed the short distance to where the twins stood and stuck out her hand. “I’m Tiffany, and this is my partner Ana,” she introduced, using our aliases for the mission.
Still smiling, I remained where I was. I needed to find TL and figure out what our next steps would be.
Beaker cleared her throat, drawing my attention over to her. Without moving her head, she rolled her eyes to the twins.
Oh! I sprung forward and shook each of their hands. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Beaker kept going with the niceties. “We were just on our way out to see our coach.”
“Oh, okay!” The twins flopped down on one of the beds. “’Bye!”
“’Bye!” Beaker returned, ushering me out of the room. The door closed behind us. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.
“I’m sorry. I froze. What are we going to do?”
She tugged me down the hall. “You’re not supposed to freeze. You planned this whole mission, remember? If anybody would be allowed to freeze, it’d be me. This is my first mission, not yours. And ‘What are we going to do?’ ” She scoffed. “Get it together. I thought you’d be better at this.”
She was right. I needed to get it together. It was just . . . well . . . I’d been so thorough during my planning sessions with David, I really hadn’t expected anything to go wrong.
Naive of me, I know.
We got to TL’s room, and I rapped six quick times—our secret knock. He opened the door, and we slipped inside a room identical to ours.
“My roommate went to get ice,” TL fired off. “Make it quick. What do you got?”
Rapidly, I told him the situation while he listened intently.
“What are you going to do,” he asked when I finished.
The question caught me off guard. What was I going to do? But he always solved the problems. Not me.
"GiGi,” TL prompted. “My roommate will be back any second. This is your operation. You asked for this. Now what are you going to do?”
“Text Nalani.” I slipped my cell phone from my warm-ups pocket. “We need to meet and find out what’s going on.”
TL nodded. “Good.”
I text messaged Nalani. All of our texts were coded for extra security. She responded within a second. “Third-floor utility closet,” I read the display. “Five minutes.”
Beaker popped a piece of gum in her mouth.
The door opened, and we all snapped back into role. In walked a guy I assumed to be TL’s roommate. He stood a little shorter than me and had neat blond hair. I’d say he was in his early twenties.
“Well, hey!” He grinned. “You must be Ana and Tiffany. Your coach here has been telling me all about you two.”
“Hi!” We greeted him in unison.
“Yep.” TL squeezed the back of Beaker’s neck. “These are my babies. Best girls I’ve ever had the privilege to choreograph.”
Babies? TL would never call us his babies back at the ranch.
He turned to us. “This is my roomie, Coach Luke. He came with the pink-and-green team out of Portland.”
The pink-and-green team? That’d be the Cheerleaders Are Better Athletes girls we met in the lobby.
Coach Luke shook his finger at Beaker. “Now, Tiffany. You know you’re not supposed to have gum.”
With a playful sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Sorry.”
Beaker pulled the wrapper from her pocket, squished up the gum, and threw it away. “Won’t happen again.”
“Well,” TL guided us out, “catch you later.”
“’Bye!” Coach Luke waved.
The Winning Element Page 11
