Page 5 of Overachiever
“Here you go. You’re in room one twenty,” he says, handing Remee a key card. “And you’re in one thirty-three.”
“Has the other guy in my room already picked up his key?” I ask.
“Yes, you two are the last of the group reservations to show up.” He goes on to explain where the ice machine is located and gestures toward an adjacent room. “Continental breakfast is served in the dining room from six to nine. Anything else you need?”
“Wifi?” Remee says.
“Password is written on the side of the TV.”
“Thank you.”
Just outside the lobby doors, Remee pauses and takes a deep breath. “I can smell the ocean on the wind.” A tired smile creeps across her face. “Tomorrow after the orientation and lunch…”
“It’s our first stop,” I promise. “Your room is right here. Let’s get your stuff unloaded before I park in front of mine.”
The room isn’t as bad as I expect it to be. Dated and a bit run down, but clean. The air conditioner hums into action when she turns it on to cut through the humid air. After sticking her head in the bathroom, she sits on the edge of one of the beds.
“Not too bad.”
“Are you going to be okay by yourself here?” I ask, hesitating in the doorway.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Okay, I’m going to go. See you in the morning.” Pausing again, I look at the locks on the door. “Make sure you turn the deadbolt.”
“I will. Don’t worry about me. Go meet your new roomie,” she teases. Once I hear the clicking of locks sliding into place, I grab my stuff from the truck and unlock my door down the hall.
Exhausted, my only thought is to fall into bed, but just inside I’m met with a squalling sound that makes me drop my suitcase and jump back in the dark.
What the fuck was that?
It sounds like a dying moose.
A light flips on and a guy laughs from the far bed. “Sorry, man. It’s my white noise machine. Whale songs. I was just going to bed.”
That helps him sleep? I’ve heard haunted house soundtracks that are less disturbing. “Sorry if I woke you. I’m going to crash as soon as I get my truck unloaded. It’s been a long drive. I’m Owen, by the way.”
“Weston. Nice to meet you.”
The bed squeals under Weston’s not insignificant weight as he lies back down. “Nice to meet you too.”
By the time I have my stuff inside, he’s asleep and the whale sounds have shifted to the screech of seagulls. Seriously, at what beach in hell was this recorded? After brushing my teeth and changing clothes, I grab my headphones, suddenly sorry I didn’t spring for a noise cancelling model. Whatever, I can sleep through almost anything.
Almost.
With music in my ears partially blocking out the sounds of Satan’s aquarium, I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. Until a noise so horrible I can’t believe it came from a human being jars me awake. My first thought is thunder. A clap of thunder probably startled me. Until it comes again, and I swear I feel the hairs on my arms rattle. No, not thunder. Weston. Snoring.
Christ in pajamas, that guy needs a doctor.
A quick check of my phone tells me it’s almost morning, though way earlier than I want to be up. I’m tempted to go to Remee’s room and see if I can crash on her extra bed, but I don’t want to wake her.
The roar of the wildebeest across from me continues, competing with the marine wildlife, and I can’t take anymore. Throwing my clothes on in the dark, I grab my phone and step outside. The sky is just beginning to show traces of light around its edges. My thought when I stepped out was just to take a walk and kill some time, but the sight of the empty lounge chairs by the pool changes my mind. I stretch out on one, tuck my headphones back in my ears, and lie back to grab another hour or two of sleep. I’m not sure what I’ll do tonight, but I know there’s no way I’m rooming with that guy. I could’ve reasoned with him over the ocean noises, but short of wrapping a pillow around his head, I’m not sure there’s an answer to the snoring.
I’m back to sleep in seconds until the brightness of the sun manages to permeate my eyelids enough to wake me again. The plastic chair squeaks as I turn my head to the side, and I damn near piss myself when I open my eyes to see two dark ones looking back into mine.
A kid, maybe four or five years old, stands inches away, staring at me like he can see my soul and it looks tasty to him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares until I shield my eyes with my hand.
“Hey kid. Are you lost or something?”
