Page 31 of Cuts like a Knife
“Liza? Liza with a z not Lisa with an s, right111?” I say, trying to match her bright hospitality smile and hoping she gets the reference.
“Yes, miss. Like Liza Minnelli.” She gets it, which is good. (It’s a reference I frankly wouldn’t know if not for Claire, who is a theatre-head, and I send up a silent thank you to the universe and my sister, because making nice with staff is always a good idea.)
“Liza with a z, I need a separate room.”
Her face falls.
“I’m so sorry, miss, but there are no more rooms.”
“There must be. There must be one little room somewhere, right? Big fancy place like this?”
“No miss. We are entirely sold out. Because of the junket and the filming, you see? You are press, correct? You must know we are filming the American television program Hot Slice on the premises this week…”
“Of course, of course, but … there has to be something. Something small! Tiny! I’m not picky.”
“There is really nothing—”
“Give me the corporate card, Callum.” I say, sharply. “This is unacceptable.” I turn back to Liza as he hands it to me, eyes rolling. “I’ll take a broom closet with a single pull out in it, or a roll-away, I really don’t care. Please, Liza.” I brandish the card.
“I would help you if I could, miss. Truly. We simply don’t have anywhere at all. We are fully booked. Slightly over-booked, if I am to be completely honest with you. I’m so very sorry.”
I look around, my eyes wild. Maybe there’s … a loveseat in the lobby? Something! There has to be something. The line behind us is growing and I can hear low muttering as people — other journalists, from better publications — become restless, waiting for their turn to check in. But I can’t. I can’t leave this spot until this is sorted. Maybe … I can use the room as a home base without actually having to sleep there? Unfortunately, vast as the lobby is, there are few chairs to choose from, let alone a sofa big enough for sleeping on, of any kind112.
“Give it up, Madison. You’ve got a bed. It’s fine. I promise not to try to snuggle up to you in the night, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“Please,” I say, trying to sound bored by the whole thing. “It’s the stench of your hair oil. I can’t stomach it.”
“Ooh, zing. Come on, kid. Let’s go. There’s nowhere else for you.”
“Liza,” I try again. “Please. I’ll sleep literally anywhere.” I implore the girl with my eyes, knowing even as I do that there’s no point. She probably makes minimum wage. This isn’t her fault and it isn’t her problem. And she probably couldn’t help me, even if she wanted to.
Maybe … I can sleep on the beach? My mind races through every possibility, but I know it’s hopeless. I’m going to be sharing a room with Callum.
Out of nowhere, I hear a familiar voice behind me, dangerously close.
“If you need somewhere else to say, you can stay with me.”
I turn around and … there he is. So incongruous. So out of place.
Drew Fox113.
Good lord.
For a moment, the sight of Drew here is so surreal, so familiar and friendly, I can’t help but grin, and without thinking, my mouth is opening and squeaking, “Oh my god, hi!” and before I know it, I’m giving the man an enormous hug.
Which I realize, just a few seconds in, is embarrassing to the extreme and completely not in keeping with the attitude I’ve resolved to have about all things Drew.
Worse, it dawns on me that I am now in a dreaded worlds-collide scenario114.
I pull away from Drew, awkwardly and try to smile.
“Um, what are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I suspect. Working. Hot Slice. That whole thing. Got here yesterday.”
“Right, of course, right…”
Drew works in advertising, and I know his agency has a huge PR division as well. Some of the stars could be their clients. Or maybe his clients are some of the advertisers115?
