Room Service

Chapter Ten

            I didn’t go back to the Lighthouse Suite.

            Upstairs, Leon packed his belongings, most likely shoving everything haphazardly into the suitcase since Allison’s schedule left no time for folding. He was gone half an hour later, taking his manager, PA and what felt like a small piece of me along with him.

            There’d been a sleek black Mercedes waiting for them outside, complete with tinted windows that made it impossible to look into. Left to my imagination, I couldn’t help but visualise the three of them in the back, Allison’s intimidating presence enough to cause silence to fall across the entire car. I could almost see Leon perched in the back seat, knees hunched up, gazing blankly out of the window.

            I watched the car leave from one of the upstairs windows; I told myself I was making rounds of all the rooms, but technically that didn’t need to be done for another hour or two. The car glided out of the hotel car park, disappearing around the bend, and that was it. I’d never see him again.

            I hadn’t exactly been expecting a brilliant day, not after everything had kicked off. Somehow, though, it managed to stoop even below my initial expectations. Forcing a smile for the six guests I had to check in that day ended up being an excruciating task; it turned out to be near impossible to pull off an authentic cheeriness while falling to pieces inside.

            The whole thing, of course, was ridiculous, and I was well aware of it. It wasn’t even like much had happened between Leon and I; when it came down to the facts, we’d only known each other for a few weeks. That wasn’t nearly enough time to get so emotionally invested, but somehow it had occurred anyway. All along, I’d tried to remind myself that nothing could ever come of it. We were part of two different worlds, after all. The lethargic lull of Walden-on-Sea stood miles apart from the glamorous life of Leon McCarthy: hopping from city to city; standing before crowds of thousands; selling the story of the small-town guy turned superstar until it was worth millions. The public eye never bothered to look upon Walden, which, incidentally, had been the attraction for Leon in the first place.

            We’d both known it was never going to work out, but I was still at a loss to explain why it hurt so much.

***

            I woke up ridiculously early the next morning, which didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with the fact I’d gotten barely any sleep through the night. I returned to consciousness with a pounding headache: one that felt kind of like somebody had taken a sledgehammer and was bashing it against the inside of my skull. Combined with how my room felt like a greenhouse, the stagnant air ready to suffocate me, it was safe to say I wasn’t in the best of moods.

            I showed up to the reception desk just before eight, signing off the night warden who looked ready to fall asleep on the desk. Thankfully, the worst of the headache had disappeared over breakfast, but it hadn’t taken my mood along with it.

            Yesterday, I’d been mostly occupied with feeling sorry for myself, which I supposed had to be natural in the aftermath of Leon’s shock exit. Today, however, after a night to really think about what had gone on, the sadness had dipped away to make room for something else. Now, I was finding myself more angry than anything when my thoughts wandered back to Leon McCarthy.

            It wasn’t just anger directed at him – though that was definitely there, too. I resented the way he’d left things up in the hotel room, as if it was acceptable to leave on that note after spending several weeks in my consistent company. But on top of that, I was angry at myself, because I was also to blame.