Page 52 of A Lot to Unpack
I have a plan… well, sort of.
I have an idea, is what I probably should say. I don’t know if it’s a good one, but it’s the best I’ve got, and I need to try something.
My big idea? Cake.
Wait, no, hear me out. I know, I’ve had a few Cosmopolitans tonight, but I promise you this is me thinking straight. It’s not as silly as it sounds. I’m basically going to use Jordan’s strengths against him. His cool guy persona, his easy-going nature, his popularity.
I’ve ordered a cake to be delivered to reception – I went on a food delivery app, chose a cake, and then wrote a message saying for it to be delivered to reception, but that Jordan would have to come down and collect it. What that will do is – step one – get Jordan to leave his room.
Then – step two – I’m going to listen for him leaving, to go down and get it, and that’s when I’m going to sneak into his room.
So, if there’s one thing I’ve noticed about Jordan, it’s that he doesn’t check his door is locked; he walks through it and leavesit to close itself – he’s that cool. I’m not cool at all. I’m the kind of person who locks the door, then checks it again, then double-checks. And even then, I’ll still spend the whole day wondering if I left it wide open, but no worries if I have, at least it will be easy for the fire brigade to get inside, to put out the fire from the straighteners I’m usually pretty sure I’ve left on…
I might be an anxious girlie but that’s what’s going to make me good at this. I have all bases covered. So I’ll hover in the recess where the door to my room is, listen for him leaving – thankfully the lift is in the other direction – and then try to stop his door before it closes, so I can nip inside, make the swap and boom. Job done.
So I wait, not for long – just enough time to question whether or not my plan is too dumb to work – but then I hear him leaving and, sure enough, he leaves his door to close itself, and he’s far too cool to look back. I manage to stop it just in time, right as it’s about to close, and that’s it. I’m in.
The contract – the one I need to swap in – is safely stuffed down the back of my trousers. Well, I thought just in case Jordan caught me in the act, I didn’t want to have any damning evidence on me. The plan is to make the switch, then stuff the contract with the errors down my pants, and then try to get out of here without getting caught.
What will I say if Jordan does catch me in here? Honestly, I have no idea. I need to make sure it doesn’t come to that. I have unlocked my side of the adjoining door though, just in case.
Another fatal error I could make would be to try to swap the contracts, but get them mixed up, and leave the room with the one I came with, so I’ve made the slightest fold on one of the back corners.
I haven’t read it. Not properly. I skimmed the first page after Paige gave it to me, but it was all legal jargon and boringcorporate stuff. It just looks like a contract. But hopefully my little fold helps make sure I leave here with the right one.
He has a desk, and it looks like he’s been using it, because his things are laid out on it – so neatly though. I’ll bet he’s the kind of guy who puts his clothes away in the wardrobe, when he stays in hotels, whereas I’ll live out of my suitcase the whole time I’m here.
I start carefully opening drawers, lifting papers without shifting anything too much. It seems like everything has its place, so I don’t want him noticing if something has been touched.
There’s a folder so I lift it open with one finger, like I’m trying to be careful not to leave fingerprints, as though he’s going to have any way to dust for them, even if he is suspicious.
I hear it. Shit. A sound on the other side of the door. Footsteps. Then a voice – Jordan’s voice. He’s back already.
I go from nought to panic in about two seconds – I’m surprised it takes me that long to be honest with you. I think I’m mistaken but, no, that’s his voice, and that’s the noise the door makes when you pop your keycard in to unlock it.
So what do I do? What can I do? I hit the deck and crawl, like a worm, on my stomach, until I’m tucked away under the bed. And I do it just in the nick of time. He’s here. He’s in the room. And I’m trapped.
‘Yeah, I was on my way down for it, but they sent someone up with it,’ he says to whoever he’s on the phone with, chill as ever.
I try to press myself flatter to the floor, holding my breath, as though those things might help me to be invisible. This is bad. This is really fucking bad.
Then he pauses.
‘So you didn’t send it?’ He laughs, a little confused. ‘Not that many people even know I’m here. Who would send me a cake?’
He laughs again, softer this time.
‘Okay, bud, see you then. Bye. Bye.’
It’s just me and him but he’s quiet now, now that he’s off the phone.
The bed above me creaks as it dips a little, under Jordan’s weight. He must be sitting on it. It makes me jump, but I do my best to keep quiet. I grit my teeth, trying to keep as still as I can, to be as silent as humanly possible, but my heart is pounding and I’m convinced he’s going to hear it.
I’ve really fucked this one up, huh? I’m not sure it could have gone worse. Even failing epically from the get-go would have been better, because at least I wouldn’t have been caught, it just would have been a case of back to the drawing board.
What am I going to do? I can’t stay here all night, can I? How will I ever leave? What if he knocks on my door for some reason? And, truly, I’ve never needed a wee so much in my life, but I’m certain I only feel this way because I know I can’t go right now.
And of course I left my phone in my room, like an idiot, or I could’ve messaged him, asked him to meet me somewhere, lured him out again. I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving it. It seemed like something I might accidentally leave behind – I thought I was being so smart. It’s probably worth remembering that I seriously exaggerated in my interview. I’m not actually good at this stuff, but I’m doing my best.
