KIDNAPPED BY THE AGENT | Project Callister Book One

xxxvi. one bed or two?

xxxvi. ONE BED OR TWO?

After forty-eight hours of Kim Kardashian's ugly crying, three hours of packing, two naps, and a three-hour plane ride, Ace and I arrived at Albemarle North Carolina. We stayed at the Holiday Inn which was pretty much the closest thing to a McMansion for miles around.

"One room please," Ace says to the receptionist at the hotel. "Reservation under the name Johnson."

He then goes on to slide a fake ID and credit card across the desk. The receptionist barely checks and starts typing on the computer. I suppose minimum wage isn't enough to convince anyone to thoroughly screen the guests.

"One bed or two?" The receptionist asks.

"One," Ace says the exact moment I contradict with "two".

The receptionist gives us a bemused look. On the other hand, I give Ace a deadpanned stare which counters his amused smirk. So many mental middle fingers were flipped in that moment.

"Two," I smile thinly. "We'll take two beds."

"Alright," the receptionist says and returns Ace's ID and card. She then goes on to hand us our room keys and a travel pamphlet. "You guys will be in room 269. There's free breakfast and access to the gym. Call the front desk if you need anything." Although her words were polite, I could tell that she really didn't want us to call her from the dead look in her eyes.

I punch Ace hard in the chest once we're out of earshot. "Seriously Blackwell?" I roll my eyes, "One bed? What are you, five years old? Besides, if we got one bed your ass would have slept on the couch."

Ace grimaces at me. "Jesus Cupcake, going as a couple is a lot more discrete. Now stop hitting me before I call animal control."

"At least I'm not a fucking cockroach. Ring ring, it's Orkin."

Ace scoffs. "I suppose you're right; like a cockroach, my presence does make women scream. We are in room two-sixty-nine."

"Cockroaches make men scream too," I wink.

Ace shrugs. "You said it, not me."

My face scrunches up to his entertainment. "Your ability to turn anything into a self-serving innuendo is truly astonishing. It's almost enough of a superpower to spawn a trilogy as part of the MCU."

Ace ruffles my hair to pester me. "Likewise, your superpower would be to annoy people. A Shakespearean wit, really, all stuffed into the athletic body of a garage sale cabbage patch doll."

I'm momentarily stunned by his creative insult. Taking my brief moment of astonishment, Ace smugly retorts, "checkmate."

I ignore him because worse than anything, even stubbing your toe on the table, is letting someone undermine you in a verbal assault.