Page 6 of Zero Pucks

Just around the corner though, I spotted a little bench and moved toward it as fast as I could. I pulled myself up to sit, and right as my butt hit the seat, the door across from me banged open with a loud clang. It was the doorway to the stairwell. Definitely not an option for me right now.

I blinked, then saw a harried-looking younger man with short, wild hair rush through. He paused for a second, did a long double take at me, then hurried down the hall the way I’d come.

Rude asshole.

Whatever, I didn’t need some stranger gawking at me anyway. Pulling my jacket down, I patted the rest of the pockets and grinned in triumph when I found my phone. It was tucked into the inside pocket and still had a thirty percent charge. Shit, why hadn’t I done that before when I was still in the room?

My brain was a goddamn mess.

But it was fine. I had a way out. It took nine seconds to find the front desk number on their website, and I dialed, feeling like I was going to jump out of my skin the moment the receptionist picked up.

“Yeah, hey,” I said, my voice trembling a bit. “I’m on the fifteenth floor, and I’m having a kind of…emergency.”

“Do you need emergency services?” she asked, sounding unfazed. But hey, it was Vegas. She probably got calls like this constantly.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I was just, uh…just wondering. Do you all happen to have wheelchairs that guests can use?”

“Um…no?” she said slowly.

Of course not. “Okay. Uh…” It took my brain a second to formulate a plan B. I had no idea where my legs were, and with this hangover, there was no way I was going to make it on my own. I could ask if she had a couple of spare Chippendales. I hadn’t been to a show, but I’d seen their posters, and the dudes had muscles.

And frankly, that wouldn’t be the worst way to end this fuck-ass trip.

But I also wasn’t going to embarrass myself further. An idea struck, and it was maybe the worst one, but in reality, it was also probably the best.“What about a luggage cart that can carry the weight of a grown man?”

She was very silent for a long beat. “A…body?”

I slapped a hand over my face. “Oh my God, no. No I—” I rolled my eyes up toward the ceiling. “Look, this is super embarrassing, but I woke up in a room that wasn’t mine, and I have no memory of how I got there. I can’t walk on my own, and I don’t have my wheelchair with me, and I just need help.”

“Sir, it sounds like you might need emergency?—”

“I don’t need emergency services!” I all but shouted, then took a slow breath. “Sorry. Just…I need to get to my room, okay? My wheelchair is in there, and I can solve the case of what the fuck happened last night once I get mobile. But right now, I’m in a T-shirt and boxers, sitting in the hallway on the fifteenth floor. I swear, if someone comes up here with a luggage cart and can haul my ass back to my room, they will get the biggest tip of their lives.”

I was definitely willing to part with half my rent money if it meant someone getting me out of this. Boden would cover me. Or Ford. Hell, I’d take up a collection plate from the team if it meant getting the fuck out of there.

“Someone will be right up.”

Oh, thankGod.

“I think I love you,” I blurted.

She sighed. “Have a good afternoon, sir.” The line went dead, and I flopped back to wait. Someone would be right up. Best words of the morning.

* * *

Someone did come up, but it was not right away. I was working through my fifth nausea spell in twenty minutes when a very young man pushing a cart approached me. He didn’t look strong enough to blow dandelion seeds, but I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He came to a halt beside me and did a slow look from the ends of my residual limbs to the hangover sweat on my forehead. “You, uh…needed a ride?”

“Yep! Sorry for making your morning weird as fuck,” I said as he pushed the cart up next to the bench.

He laughed. “Trust me, this is nothing. Last week, we had a mascot convention.”

I dropped down onto the cart and situated myself near the pole so I could hold on. Then I realized what he said and looked back at him over my shoulder. “Wait. Like…furries?”

He choked on a laugh as he began to push me in the direction of the elevator. “Worse. These guys get drunk and piss in their costumes. And they don’t go to their rooms to change or clean up. Pushing someone around on a luggage cart is old hat.”

I sighed as I rested my head against the cart handle. It was brass and very, very cool. “Okay, I feel less bad. But I have to ask, how many people with missing limbs have you carted around?”

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