Page 8 of His Jersey

The fake hair also makes it easier to pretend that it’s not really me who’s working as a maid when I have a degree from an Ivy League college. I tell myself that this isn’t my life and I’m just playing a role.

Recalling the conversation with Jack in the pool about being someone else for the night, I long for the escape that the time with him provided, the thrill, the hope … that someday I could be normal again.

I thrust my shoulders back and walk down the hall like I belong here because once upon a time, I did. Sort of.

In college, Tiana and Charity—my two best friends andcollege roommates—and I came down here for senior year spring break. Technically, we were Charity’s guests thanks to her rich family sparing no expense for an epic week, but still, I wasn’t the help.

It’s well after eight and the ferry is no longer operating, meaning the only way the guest who reserved the Ruby Room would be able to arrive is by private plane or helicopter. Given the clientele at Jewel Island, this is common, but sleeping in a bed tonight would make the melted chocolate from today and the slog that will be tomorrow more bearable.

Edwina passes on the lantern-lit path. “Wish me luck, Jasmin. Tonight is a Mega Millions Jackpot.”

I do, but Jack was right. That’s not my real name. I’d slept under a jasmine bush the night before I found the wig and had hoped the fragrance wore off on me.

I wrinkle my nose at the memory, not because jasmine smells bad. It’s lovely. Mostly because of the things I’ve had to do to survive the last months.

As I pass one of the villas, a room service cart sits untouched, awaiting pickup. The guests must’ve made other dinner plans, which means a free feast for me. I stuff a few rolls in my pockets and try to discretely walk away like I’m not a bread bandit.

Just living that raccoon life, y’all.

When I get to the Ruby Room, I wait and listen. It’s quiet. Holding my breath, I tap my key, expecting to be locked out, indicating the guest is here, but the lock clicks open.

The space is just as I left it earlier. Odd, but it could be that the guest reserved the suite and changed plans, like the room service order.

I bounce onto the bed, cushioned by hope.

After I curl up in the corner, my fingers absently tap my clavicle as I’ve done my whole life since losing my mom. Thenecklace with the ruby heart was hers and it was a way to keep her with me, but I had to sell it along with most of my belongings after the island swindled me and Slater ditched me. The necklace was the last to go, even after my phone, but I had to do it to get by.

After a shower, I wonder about the shaving supplies arrayed on the bathroom counter. The drawers are filled with an assortment of clothing, including fitness attire, and a charcoal gray suit hangs in the wardrobe.

Is someone else secretly living in the hotel? If so, I imagine he’d have stopped in by now.

Maybe it’s a ghost. Or a vampire who doesn’t sleep, prowling the grounds by night and hiding from the sun during the daylight hours.

My imagination runs wild.

Then reality stops me short.

I can’t let myself get too comfy. The month is longer than my paycheck, and I have to send the full amount to the facility where Dad lives. On Sundays, I email the resident advocate and always get a brief update the next day. Yet it’s always the same: no improvement.

Maybe this week will be different.

I came from humble beginnings and will have a humble middle and end at this rate. After a year of working here, I’ll qualify for a raise if I don’t have any guest complaints or late days on my record. This means I do my best to avoid Yvonne. Two months ago, she started a rumor that one of the housekeepers was leaving lipstick kisses on the bedsheets. Turned out not to be true, but Tracy was fired anyway. Tracy was also dating Yvonne’s brother on a nearby island. I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side. Best for me to keep as low a profile as possible.

A watch box I hadn’t noticed earlier sits on thedressing table. I’d never steal—except abandoned food—but curiosity gets the better of me. I open the hinged leather lid to reveal a watch with the correct time. It’s familiar like I’ve seen it before. Worn it even.

My breath catches as the night with Jack hasn’t faded from full color to a black and white memory. His Jeep was stuck in the dunes. I helped him get it out. We had dinner. It was sweet. Then we snuck into one of the pools here at the resort and went swimming, made wishes under the stars, and spilled secrets. Except I didn’t tell him my real name. Not that it matters.

The chances are slim to none that I’ll ever see him again, and even if I did, he’s a ten, and I’m just … well, no one. Certainly not Jasmin. Time slips through my fingers as reality returns, but I drift to sleep on a wish and a prayer.

5

JACK

Thankfully,only my father sits at the table in the dimly lit modern American restaurant. He and I have very little in common other than our love for cheeseburgers. I’ve never met one I don’t like.

As I take a seat opposite the old fox, he sips a scotch. I go for the gold, asking for a gallon of water because I need to hydrate. Also, saying something so ridiculous and pedestrian to a server at a swanky restaurant where every surface gleams, the liquid glows, and the lights glitter will annoy him.

“Did you catch the game?” I ask.

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