Having an Affair with My Soon-to-Be Stepdad [8]

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Next part finally :)

Sorry for the delay, but I've made it extra long to make up for it. :)

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As I put my sandwich in the kitchen, I looked at the note again. I spit back what I was chewing on the sandwich, absolutely disgusting habit I picked up, and pushed the sandwich away. It was now 12:01 and James would be back in 29 minutes. I sighed and hurriedly walked into the living room to get my suitcase. I threw on a brown belted plaid shirt, black skinny jeans, brown Mary Jane's, and my knock-off Chanel sunglasses, deciding that a Celtic's jersey to a rich Manhattan shoe shop wasn't such a good idea.

I stepped out the door and gently closed it behind me. I walked up to the elevator and pulled my black tote bag closer to my shoulder. I looked in the gray metal at my reflection as the elevator down. For the first time, I was actually self-conscious about what I was wearing. Denise was probably wearing some designer dress and shoes made in France.

Looking down at my simple clothes made me adjust my sunglasses nervously. I frowned as the elevators opened and stepped out. Just as I was about to step into the lobby, I saw someone in a gray suit at the front desk. James.

Oh shit.

I froze and stared ahead to the front desk. James, with his thin white striped suit coat over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets spoke to the guy at the counter.

I gently stepped out and hid behind a chair, watching what he was saying.

"How may I help you, sir?" The guy in the blue suit at the desk asked.

"Hi, I was just wondering if your phone lines were working," James said.

"I beg your pardon? What exactly do you mean?" the counter guy asked a little impatiently.

"Just that, when I tried to call up to my room to check on my...uh...stepdaughter, no one picked up." James said, leaning over and putting his hands on the desk.

"Well, maybe the problem's not with our phones, but your stepdaughter," the man said, typing something busily on the computer.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Mr....Foreigner," James said, tapping his name tag.

"It's FourniER, FOURNIER," the man said in an annoyed voice. "I meant, maybe she is not in, at the moment, sir," he said, much more cautiously fingering his name tag.

"Hmm," James said, straightening up. "Maybe," he said, picking up his brief case and backing up. "Thanks."

I ducked behind the chair and nearly landed on some guy. "Hey!" I whispered. "Move!"

The guy looked up at me with steel colored eyes. "Who are...." He stopped suddenly and "Mirage?!"

"Jimmy!" I smiled broadly at him, forgetting to whisper.

"What are you doing here?" Jimmy asked in a whisper, sitting up suddenly and grinning.

"Oh...I live here," I whispered back.

"Here?" he asked, eyes widening.

"Yeah....Don't you?" I asked, wondering if I should tell him that I actually lived with my mom's twenty-five year old boyfriend.....Yeah, never mind.

"Are you kidding me?...I'm lucky I got a summer job here," he said, pointing down to the navy blue polo and khaki shorts. "I'm the pool boy," he said with a laugh.

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