THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 070 ] zara masters the hidden art of hotel bribery

LXX.

z a r a m a s t e r s
t h e h i d d e n a r t o f
h o t e l b r i b e r y

—THE THING ABOUT Five was that he could be both predictable and unpredictable at the same time. Zara found it thoroughly perplexing.

He answered the phone, listened to her awkward little spiel for about a minute, then hung up—predictable. At exactly 12:23 that night, he walked into the little police station like he owned the place—-unpredictable. He took out three police officers with nothing but his fists—predictable. He was tipsy, yet not quite fully drunk—predictable. He said hello to Kiki, but not to Zara or Ralph—predictable. He didn't say a word when they got into the car, but insisted on taking the front seat because, in his words, children ride in the back—predictable.

But he had showed up. Angry at her or not, he had still showed up.

Unpredictable, unpredictable, unpredictable.

So there Zara was, sitting in the backseat of the enormous AC Cobra, watching as poor Five was subjected to the incredibly long-winded story of the time Ralph tamed a wild alpaca in Berlin. And that was really something, seeing as—not only were there no wild alpacas in Berlin—Ralph had never been to Germany.

Thirty minutes later, the car got off on Exit 95 at the intersection of Crawford and McCarthy and they went into a homey little place by the side of the road called the Sea Breeze Inn.

None of them wanted to drive any more at night and Zara refused to let Five try spatial jumping miles twice in one night and wind-up with them on the other side of the Mexican border or something otherwise disastrous. Plus, she was tired, and that was apt to bring on a migraine. She didn't want to worry about a migraine if the world ended tomorrow.

They went into the hotel. The bell over the door jangled, the floorboards creaked. A flight of stairs and a sign saying 'POOL' beckoned them. Zara looked at it warily.

Ralph ringed the bell at the counter a few times. At length, a kid—no more than a high school junior, judging by the smattering of acne on his cheeks—slipped behind the counter. He took in the sight of them, then his eyes settled on Ralph, and he smiled slightly. Ralph smiled back.

"We need rooms," Ralph said.

James Dean nodded and said: "Busy night. We've got two left."

"Why do they call this the Sea Breeze?" Five asked, glancing at the faded wallpaper suspiciously. "I get no smell of the ocean."

"Perhaps you can when the wind's in the right quarter and blowing a hurricane," said Zara. "It's what we call poetic license, Five."

"Pretty lies." Then added under his breath: "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

She smiled coldly at him. "I learnt from the best, didn't I?"

The kid at the counter raised his eyebrows. Ralph looked at them both nervously. They had hardly spoken two words to each other in the last half hour. Now it was like two sleeping bears being prodded awake.

"Bold words from someone whose master plan completely flopped," said Five. "Still think I'm the incompetent one here?"

"My plans are perfectly fine, thank you very much! And what happened to your precious apocalypse, anyway? Did you forget about that when you decided to waste away your last night on earth?"