Fear and Laundry (22 page)

When I re-opened the door, Jake was gone. I found Lia by the front door, jingling her car keys. She’d obviously been waiting there for me, assuming I'd eventually come with her. That irritated me, and I thought about just leaving her there and going home instead. But I’d already made up my mind to go with her to the hotel, if only to spare Jonathan from being sucked into Lia’s craziness.  If she insisted on doing this thing, well...we would do it. My way.

We’d see who was a spineless weenie.

“I’ll drive,” I said, holding up my mother’s key ring.

“Vee...” she started to argue.

“C’mon,” I said.

Part Three

September 3
^rd
– 17
^th
, 1994

Lauren, the hostess on duty at Alonzo’s, recognized me. I’d figured whoever was working would, but didn’t have time to think of any way around it. I only hoped they’d buy the story I’d concocted on the drive over and not think it worth mentioning to anyone else later on. It had to help, didn’t it, that the Crawford employees were fairly used to seeing me around?

I told Lauren my mother had forgotten something in her office and sent me to pick it up. I was heading to the basement, I said, not explaining who Lia was or why she was with me. The main stairs were being mopped, I lied, and the elevator was busy. I was just going to slip through the kitchen and use the back stairway. I didn’t phrase it as a question, just sort of said it with as much authority as I could muster.

Lauren opened her mouth to say something, but an elderly couple walked up and started asking her questions. She nodded and waved me away, turning her attention to the customers, and I led Lia through the dining room. We jumped out of a server’s path just as he came through the swinging doors with a loaded tray, and then ducked into the kitchen. As usual, the place was so busy hardly anyone noticed us. Only Kyle, the bus boy on duty, waved and said hello.

I weaved Lia through the chaotic kitchen to the stairs and we ran down to the basement, where I left her waiting in a hallway corner. I crept down to the laundry and peeked inside. The room was empty. Alma was probably up on one of the floors, gathering dirty linen from the housekeepers’ carts. I hurried back to my mother’s office and waved Lia over.

“What now?” she asked when she reached me.

I nodded at the door. “We need to get in here.”

“Is it locked?” She jiggled the doorknob and saw it was. “What do we do?”

I held up the key ring again. It held not only my mother's car keys, but the ones to her office as well.

I unlocked the door and we slipped inside. I went to the rack where the new laundry attendants’ uniforms were stored, grabbed two of the plastic-wrapped packets and tossed one at Lia. “Put that on,” I told her.

***

W
e dressed quickly, pulling the uniform shirts, smocks and pants on over our regular clothes. I stuffed the discarded plastic wrap far into the bottom of Mom’s trash can and walked over to a locked cabinet mounted on the wall.

“What’s that?” asked Lia, tugging uncomfortably at her uniform. She dropped her tape recorder into a smock pocket.

“The housekeepers’ master key cards,” I said. “There’s one for every floor in the hotel.”

“Master keys? That means they open any door, right?”

“Yep.”  I used Mom’s keys to unlock the cabinet and took out the fifth floor master. Once I’d locked everything back up, an idea occurred to me and I led Lia into the deserted laundry room, where I wheeled an empty linen cart over to where she stood.

“Get in,” I told her.

She frowned into the cart. “What?”

“I’m going to cover you with sheets and take you up to Clyde’s floor in the elevator,” I explained.

“Ew. No way."

"C'mon, Lia."

"No way," she repeated. "Why can’t I cover
you
with sheets and wheel you up there?”

“Because you’re smaller,” I told her. “And because people here recognize me. They know I work in the laundry sometimes. If anyone happens to see us, they probably won’t think anything of me wearing a uniform, wheeling a cart around.”

“Then why’d you bother to make me wear this hideous thing?” she said, pinching the smock away from her chest. Couldn’t I lie and say Lia was a new-hire or a trainee or something, if anyone saw us both?

I could, I said, unless the person we ran into was a housekeeper or laundry attendant – they’d know it wasn’t true. “C’mon, Lia. We don’t have time to argue,” I said, checking the door for signs of Alma’s return. “Do you want to do this thing or what?”

Sighing, she put her hands on the edge of the cart and climbed in while I held it steady.

“Comfy?” I asked when she sat on the bottom of the cart.

“I suppose I just shouldn’t think about all the dirty sheets and towels that’ve been hauled around in this thing?”

“Relax. Alma sprays the carts down with Lysol,” I told her. “Sometimes.”

“Lovely. Really, that’s very comforting.”

“You should lie down on your side.”

She gave me possibly the nastiest look ever, but did as I said, curling onto her side in the bottom of the cart. I took a few clean sheets and pillowcases from a shelf and set them aside, intending to bring them with us. Then I unfolded a few more, layering them over Lia to make it look like the cart was full of linen. She made an unhappy sound as I covered her face.

“Can you breathe?” I asked.

“Barely,” she snapped, warning me to hurry.

***

T
he elevator was empty when I wheeled Lia into it, but it stopped on the lobby level and a mother, father, and two curly-haired daughters with sticky faces, and balloons from Alonzo’s tied to their wrists, got on. The dad pushed the button for the sixth floor.

The kids, probably both under ten, immediately climbed onto opposite sides of the linen cart and began bouncing up and down, laughing and whooping. Their parents said and did nothing to stop them, and I started to worry one of the kids would tumble into the cart on top of Lia. But then, mercifully, the doors opened onto the fifth floor.

“Sorry, girls,” I said, peeling the larger kid’s chubby fingers one by one from the edge of the cart, “This is my stop.” When the kids were finally detached, I pushed the cart into the hall and hurried away.

“Hey, you okay in there?” I leaned over and hissed.

Lia’s voice was muffled, but her annoyance transmitted clearly through the layers of sheets. “Do
not
speak to me,” she grumbled.

All of the Crawford’s nicest suites were on the fifth and sixth floors, so it would’ve been safe to bet we’d find a VIP like Clyde on one of them. However, thanks to Jonathan, Lia and I knew for certain Clyde was in suite 523. I’d pushed the cart only a few feet in that direction when a door opened on my left and Alma backed out into the hall, lugging a linen cart after her.

***

“V
eronica, what are you doing here?” she’d smiled reflexively when she’d first seen me, but now Alma looked confused.

“Mom didn’t tell you? I’m helping you out this morning.” I was mildly disturbed by how easily the lies seemed to fly to my lips today.

She started to smile again, but then the perplexed little frown reappeared. “Really? That’s odd. I mean, it’s not very busy today,” she said. The new, new girl had worked out great and everything was caught up. Alma was here by herself this weekend because there wasn’t enough work for two people.

“Huh,” I said. “Weird.”

We stood there looking at one another for what felt like a long time. I caught her staring at my neck and reached up, realizing she could see my t-shirt collar poking out from beneath the uniform shirt. The pants probably looked wrong, too – too bulky on over my jeans. I gulped.

“Veronica, what are you
doing
here?”

I squirmed a little under her gaze, feeling guilty for having lied to her. For even being here.

Spineless weenie, spineless weenie
, I thought, and bolstered my resolve.

“Alma,” I said, “I, uh, kinda need you to not ask me any questions right now. Okay?”

Her frown deepened as she regarded me, trying to make up her mind. This was Veronica, she was probably telling herself, whom she’d known since she was a little girl and who’d never been in trouble once in her entire life. Whatever I was up to, it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

“Okay, sweetheart,” she finally said, softly.

I let out a breath. “Thanks, Alma,” I said. “I really appreciate this.”

She didn’t respond, only steered her cart around mine and started up the hall. With a pang, I noticed she wouldn’t look me in the eye as she passed.

I turned to watch her go, realizing I’d probably ruined something just now. Her image of me. Maybe even our friendship. That hurt, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. All I could think was that I’d definitely gone too far to turn back now, and I pushed on.

***

I
’d brought the fifth floor master key with us in case Lia and I got extraordinarily lucky and Clyde didn’t have any security posted. We’d be able to just knock, and if he didn’t answer, unlock the door to his suite ourselves. But realistically, as I’d told Lia, I’d expected to find someone outside his door. It was pretty standard with VIPs, and I’d only hoped it wouldn’t be more than one person. I thought I could probably talk my way past one, but wasn’t so sure about outwitting any more than that.

I’d figured Clyde’s status as a mid-level celebrity increased the chances of our encountering only a single guard, and it looked as though I’d guessed correctly. Only one guy stood outside 523. He was a muscular dude in a plain gray t-shirt tucked into tight black jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on his head. His dark blonde hair, long only in the middle and shaved everywhere else, was pulled back with a rubber band. He had his arms crossed over his massive chest and sort of looked like he was asleep standing up. Summoning some confidence, I repositioned the bundle of clean sheets I’d brought along under my arm and wheeled the cart up to him.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully.

The guard jumped, reinforcing my impression he’d been asleep. Or at least daydreaming. No wonder, I thought. He didn’t have a newspaper or a magazine or anything. I guessed Clyde expected him to just stand there and stare off into space all day? How boring.

“I’m here to...” I began.

“No maid service,” the guard interrupted me in a booming voice.

“Excuse me?” I squeaked.

“I said no maid service,” he repeated. “My, uh, client specifically requested housekeeping not come up until he checks out.”

“Oh, I’m not a housekeeper,” I chirped happily. “I was sent up from the laundry.”

This seemed to throw him for a second. He frowned, beady blue eyes scrunching as he inspected my cart.
Please don’t let him start poking around in there
, I thought, imagining Lia squealing as he jabbed her in the ribs. But he didn’t try to touch anything, just went on looking. I took the opportunity to keep babbling.

“The front desk said Mr. Ecks called and requested fresh linens. I’m here to make up his bed,” I said, holding up the clean sheets.

This also threw him. “Mr. Ecks” was the alias Clyde had checked in under – something only the hotel staff would know. So now hopefully he thought I was legit.

“Let me check on this,” he said, and knocked on the door to 523. “Mr Ecks?” he boomed. “Mr. Ecks?”

There was no answer. He dug a key card out of his front pocket – no easy task; his jeans were
really
tight – and swiped it in the lock. I held my breath as he swung the door in and stepped into the room. He called for Clyde again, but there was still no answer.

“He’s not in here,” he said to me. Oddly, he didn’t sound all that surprised. “So I guess it’s okay if you come in,” he added, spreading his bulging arms. “Do whatever you need to do.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said and wheeled the cart through.

He walked past me, back out into the hall.

He was going to leave me there, I realized. Alone in Clyde’s room. Just like that. If we did manage to meet Clyde today, I thought, I’d make it a point to suggest he switch security companies.

As soon as the door fastened behind him, I reached down and reeled the sheets off Lia, tossing them on the floor in a heap. “You okay?”

“Dandy,” she said, coughing and struggling to sit up. Her face was red and sweaty, her hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead. This was probably, I realized, the longest amount of time she’d ever sat still and been quiet while awake in her entire life. “Now where the hell is he?” she asked as I helped her out of the cart. “Where’s Clyde?”

***

“J
esus. Now I know why your mother doesn’t let you drive.” Lia stood in the center of Clyde’s hotel room, massaging her shoulder and wincing. “You’re terrible. I’m probably one big bruise down the left side of my body.”

I walked around the room, taking in the mess. Suite 523 was beautiful, but had already been trashed. Dirty clothes were strewn about. Room service trays crowded with food-smeared china and silverware cluttered the dresser. A mostly-empty bottle of whiskey lay nestled on a bed pillow. There was a smell.

“Ugh,” Lia complained, rubbing her side.

“Now what?” I asked, ignoring her whining. “Clyde’s not in here. Who knows when he’ll be back?” I felt oddly disappointed, not liking the idea of having gone through all this for nothing.

“We can wait for him,” said Lia, sinking onto the unmade bed.

“That bodyguard thinks I’m just in here changing the sheets. If we stay too long, he’ll come in and want to know what’s going on.”

Lia opened a nightstand drawer and poked around inside. Apparently finding nothing of interest, she closed it and tried the next one down. “Hey, look,” she said, extracting what looked like a book or journal.

“What is it?” I asked, curious despite myself.

She flipped through the pages. “Looks like his lyric book,” she said in an awed voice. “God, I
knew
he and I had a lot in common.”

“What’re you talking about?”