Page 3 of Room 810

I was greeted by the flight attendants’ wide smiles and crisp uniforms, and I felt the tension in my body loosen. This was better. I sank into my seat and released a sigh.Better.

This particular plane was nice, but I knew to enjoy it while it lasted, as my connecting flight would be significantly less glamorous. My next destination was a tiny island in the Caribbean, and that meant a tiny plane to get there, but I was looking forward to the change of pace. I’d spent far too long among big cities lately. I could do with a little sunshine.

I had intended to start writing up my review for The Scarlet Hotel while on the three-hour flight, but I hadn’t slept well last night, and by the time the plane was fully boarded and ready for departure, my eyes had started to close.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” a bright-eyed flight attendant asked in a bubbly tone. I blinked at her, shocked to find we were halfway through our trip. Had I fallen asleep?

I accepted a diet soda and pulled out my laptop. I stared at the blinking cursor, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. “The Scarlet Hotel was… wet. No, that’s no good.” My thoughts stuttered. Was it fair to blame them for the plumbing mishap? No, but what else was I supposed to do? I was only telling the truth. My rule was never to stay somewhere twice, but for the first time, I’d been tempted. The building was beautiful, the room classic—before the flooding, of course. Would it kill me to stay a second night, to give them another chance?

The thought of breaking my rules made my stomach twist. No, I would not risk changing my schedule, or soon enough, I would be living completely without structure, and the mere thought made me queasy. I would’ve had to rebook my flight, my next job being delayed, and like a row of dominoes, the next three months would’ve come falling down around my ears.

I closed my tired eyes in a long blink. While I really preferred to finish a review before starting the next job, like a palate cleanser, getting it all down on the website and out of my mind so I could start fresh, I couldn’t seem to force the words out this morning. Besides, the plane’s wi-fi wasn’t working, and there was some turbulence which always made work difficult. It could wait. With a huff, I closed my laptop and shoved it back in its bag. Tomorrow… I would write the review tomorrow.

Once in Miami, I made my way to my next gate, which was tucked down in a back corner of the terminal. Planes this size didn’t get a gangway. Heck, they barely earned a row of seats for waiting passengers. I glared at the screen above the desk. The word DELAYED stared back at me.

“Of course it’s delayed,” I grumbled to myself. I longed to get to the island, aching for a shower and a proper meal. I despised when all my perfect calculations were thrown off, and my irritation began to spread through my body, making me fidgety.

I could hear the staff chatting behind the desk. “Gods, I hope we take off soon. Did you see there’s a hurricane brewing? I don’t want to get stranded out there.”

“I heard it was just a tropical storm. Did they upgrade it?” her co-worker asked.

“No, not yet, but you know how these things go.”

The man chuckled. “Well, I hope we do get stranded. I could use a holiday.”

They continued gabbing and giggling, and I gritted my teeth. It was so unprofessional of them to be standing around talking. What did their holidays have to do with getting my plane ready? Didn’t they have some actual work to do?

At long last, they called my flight, and I was first out of my chair and in line, through the door and stomping across the tarmac to the awaiting prop plane. There was no business class this time. In fact, all the seats looked exactly the same. The ceiling was so low I had to duck, and I crammed myself into my narrow seat, the upholstery squeaking under my butt. My knees came up against the seat back in front of me, and I had to stifle my growl. I couldn’t even think straight anymore. I breathed heavily through my nose as I whipped out an antibacterial wipe and began meticulously cleaning my armrests and the tray table. When that didn’t settle me, I cleaned my glasses, wiping the lenses with my microfiber cloth. Then I cleaned them again.

“Two hours,” I whispered to myself. “Just two hours and I’ll be there.” I had a whole weekend booked at the resort, to give me a chance to experience all the activities they offered, and I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

The small plane was tossed around in the wind gusts, to the point that even someone like me, a professional traveler, felt my stomach clench in warning. By the time we’d come to a bouncing landing on the narrow strip, my legs were quivering so badly I wasn’t sure if they would hold my weight. The handful of passengers filed off the plane down the small set of stairs, onto the runway. The airport itself wasn’t much more than a flat-roofed bungalow, but I was grateful for the solid ground beneath my feet.

I took a deep, shaky breath, the air thick with humidity, the sun beating down and warming my skin. Peeling off my jacket, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and turned off airplane mode to check my notifications, but the screen remained blank. It was then I noticed there was no signal. I held my phone up, angling it back and forth, but no bars appeared. “Huh,” I muttered, frowning. This resort was a little further off-grid than I had originally thought.

Behind me, someone was unloading the baggage from the plane’s compartment, and I watched with growing horror when bag after bag was drawn out, and mine had yet to appear. “No,” I whispered. “Don’t do this to me. Not today.”

And then the man reached up and closed the compartment with a click.

“Fuck.” I stared down at my rumpled suit, knowing this was now all I had to wear. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.

“Welcome to Creston Cay,” a man shouted, drawing my attention. His shirt was just as loud as he was, a short-sleeved button-up with a large floral pattern in neon pink and orange, over baggy green board shorts. “Are you Gabriel?” I nodded. “Perfect! I’m Miguel, and I drive the shuttle for Paradise Isle Resort and Spa. Can I carry your bag for you?”

My lips jerked down in a frown, and he paused, looking around for my bag and connecting the dots. “Ah. Well. That’s unfortunate. How about I take you to your cabin first, and then I’ll track down your bag for you. I’m sure we’ll get it here on the next plane.”

I forced myself to calm. It was a nice offer, and I really did appreciate it, but my nerves were still strung tighter than I liked. “Thank you,” I said through gritted teeth. “And maybe you could tell me where I could buy some clothes in the meanwhile.” I needed out of this damn suit.

Miguel’s smile slipped a little. “I’m afraid there isn’t much in the way of amenities here on the island, but I’m sure we can find something for you in the gift shop.”

Gift shop? Like, t-shirts with cheesy slogans like “Life’s a Beach”? I repressed my shudder. I was desperate, and that meant I couldn’t be picky. “Great. Thanks,” I forced myself to say.

Something told me this weekend wasn’t going to be the relaxing getaway I had hoped it would be.

2

Toby

Withmychintippedtoward the sky, the blazing sun warming my face and turning my vision gold behind my closed eyelids, I sighed, feeling entirely at peace. The sand was warm and soft between my toes, the surf a rhythmic crash, followed by a gentleshushas each wave was pulled back toward the ocean. As I breathed the humid air into my lungs, I could practically taste the plumeria and soft jasmine blooming in the garden.

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