“Just after six.”
“Give me your phone.”
I hand it to her and she starts frantically tapping it, cursing. She looks like she might have a heart attack.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, just taps on the phone like she’s diffusing a bomb.
“Fucking finally,” she says, and dials a number. “Pick up pick up pick up.”
I hear an answer on the other end.
“Lana,” Hope says. “Thank God. Okay, are you at the office? Good. I need you to go over to my workstation and log in to my account. The password is DorotheaC@us@bon4598!.”
Over the next five minutes, I listen as she gives step-by-step instructions about something work related.
“Okay, it’s out? You’re sure?” she asks. “Check for bouncebacks. We can’t miss anyone.” She pauses, nodding. “You’re a rock star, thank you. Listen, I’m stranded in the fucking Bahamas with no phone. Yeah, I know. She’s going to kill me. Can you text me at this number if anything comes up? I don’t know how long I’ll be offline. Okay. Yeah. Thank you. Uh-huh. Bye.”
She ends the call and drops the phone in her lap, sinking back against the wall.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Oh, just me probably getting myself fired,” she says. She bends over and puts her head in her hands. She seems like she’s going to stay that way indefinitely and the minutes are ticking by, so eventually I say, “Um, well, if it’s all sorted, we should probably look into a hotel. Book something before it gets too late.”
“Okay,” she says. “Let me just text Lauren first so she’s not looking for me.”
She takes my phone, types a few messages, and hands it back to me. I deliberately don’t look at what she’s written. I assume it’s something like “trapped with the goblin.”
I google hotel availability in the area. “Looks like there are rooms at a Marriott a short cab ride away,” I say. “I’ll just book—”
And then I realize I can’t book anything. I’ve already canceled my cards.
I clear my throat. “Erm, do you mind paying for it with your card? I’ll reimburse you as soon as Dad wires me money.”
She looks up from her shell-shocked stupor. “Who’s the gold digger now?”
“Yeah. I’m aware of the irony. But I thought we had a truce?”
“It’s fine,” she says. “Whatever.”
“I really appreciate it, Hope. I have no idea what I would do if you weren’t here.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, unmoved by my sincerity.
Well, whatever indeed. We don’t have to be friends. We just have to survive the night.
I give her the phone back so she can enter her card details. She lets out a bitter laugh.
“Felix. These rooms are over three hundred dollars a night with taxes and fees.”
“Like I said, I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
“The problem is, my credit card is almost maxed out, I have nine hundred dollars in my bank account, and I don’t get paid until next week, assuming I even still have a job. It could take days to get documents. If for some reason wiring money doesn’t work out, I’ll be screwed if I spend this much.”
I try not to let my shock show.
Clearly I’m not successful, because she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t look so horrified. We can’t all be heirs to the baronet.”
