“It’s all right,” I say. “I’m here on business and prefer a quieter section. I’ll take that room if it’s alright with the lady.”
Her eyebrows form into a single line. “Are you sure?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She seems unconvinced, but her question reassures me that this is the right move. She wants to stay. “I’ll just get my bags.”
I haven’t unpacked yet, so it’s easy enough to switch.
She moves out of the way so I can grab my suitcase from the closet, but before I leave, she stops me. “This is the room you booked and paid for. You shouldn’t be the one leaving. I’ll take my things and go.”
“Like I said, I prefer the other area. It’s no big deal.”
She looks me straight in the eye. Her gaze searches mine and I think she decides she can’t convince me otherwise because she sighs. “Thank you.”
I nod, grab my bag, and follow the hotel staff down the corridor.
We walk past the restaurants and toward the lobby of the hotel where he ushers me inside an elevator, and we take that to the third floor.
By this time, I’m sweating. Loosening my tie and unbuttoning my vest, I berate myself for not having taken five minutes when I arrived to change into a T-shirt, but I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I had a lot to do before the end of business day.
Finally, we get to the room, and he opens the door for me. “Thank you,” I say. “I can take it from here.”
He nods, but before he leaves, I hand him a fifty-dollar bill. “Tips are not permitted,” he says.
“I know. This isn’t a tip, but a request to keep this incident between the three of us. I don’t want anyone to give her a hard time about not being in the room she booked. Cool?”
“Cool.”
Inside my new room, I look around and smile. I don’t remember the last time I’d been inside a hotel room this small. My first time in New York City, perhaps? The tiny room was my friend’s fault. He booked the wrong one, but it was one of the best trips of my life. Who knows, ifGuerrero really is here, and I can get him to sign the contract, maybe this one will be even better.
*
I finish what needs to get done for the day and head to the front desk.
As I walk past the restaurant, a woman with long brown hair catches my eye. It’s the woman from my room and she’s sitting alone reading a book and wearing a white buttoned dress. She’s by herself, which surprises me. I figured she’s traveling with friends or family.
When I reach the front desk, the receptionist smiles warmly at me. “Can you tell me which room Teoscar Guerrero is staying in?” I ask.
“Sir, I cannot tell you which room he is in. That is private information.”
I know she can’t, but she just confirmed that he is staying here. So, my intel is correct.
“No problem. I’m sure I’ll find him soon. Thank you.”
It’s eight-thirty in the evening and there’s a good chance Guerrero’s hanging out at the bar. I recall at least three at this resort. I walk over to the one near the lobby first, but a quick glance around the room confirms he isn’t here.
Next, I search the one by the restaurants. While I don’t spot Guerrero, I see the woman has moved from the dining room to the lounge with her book. It sits in her lap now as she sips a glass of wine and listens to the vocalist at the bar. Her posture is flawless, her neck relaxed yet in line with her spine. It’s not something I usually notice about a woman, but it’s striking on her.
I continue along the path toward the nightclub and nearly throw my fist in the air when I see Guerrero sitting at the bar, surrounded by a crowd of men and women.
I waste no more time. I’m here for this, so why not take my shot?
I walk right up to him with my hand extended. “Teo, how are you?”
“Mr. Consuelos, hey, what are you doing here?” He looks surprised to see me, of course, but I don’t let him wonder for long.
“Please, call me Cal. I heard you were here, and I wanted to come see you. I’d love to chat about next season.”
