Fast City Slow Hearts

1 | it isn't that hard to sneak into hotel rooms

The rapid-fire thudding in my heart was easy to ignore. The sweat pooling beneath my borrowed housekeeper's uniform wasn't.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

I fumbled with the keycard before waving it in front of the monitor.

Green.

The door opened, and I crossed the threshold that would take me closer to a future I had no clue would hold.

Outside of breaking into a hotel, I was preparing to meet the man of my dreams. The man of many girls' dreams.

"No. Is this an interrogation, or are you gonna be my lookout?"

My best friend and co-conspirator offered a knowing smirk, "Who else is gonna save your ass when you get arrested?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cash," I spoke in hushed sarcasm.

"I'm kidding. Besides, Sheriff Hamilton couldn't outrun you if there was a box of a dozen donuts involved."

"Yeah, and he's sweet on my mama. I'd bet you ten bucks he'd let me go if I promised him a date."

A young man clad in hotel garb looked at us puzzlingly. He'd been a senior during our freshman year of high school. I'd barely recognized him outside of his old football jersey. An injury had ripped away his scholarship to NC State.

"What are y'all two doing here?"

I couldn't afford to skip a beat, "I'm covering for Sarah Jo. She thinks she's got influenza or something."

"I'm just the driver," Cash added.

He grunted, seemingly in thought but shrugged past us as he beat a pack of Newports against his palm.

It was a likely story, except Sarah Jo wasn't sick.

With a begrudging arm-cross and a furrowed brow, she'd agreed to my sordid plan, and I snatched it up before she had time to change her mind.

With nothing substantial to offer, I'd told Sarah Jo the truth; I hoped it was enough. More than that, I hoped she wouldn't breathe a word of it to a single soul.

Like professional marksmen, Cash and I walked purposefully down the first floor's corridor, our steps muted against the antiquated carpet.

I reached the staircase that dissected the east and west wings of the building, looking back at Cash with what I hoped was a brave expression although I could feel my lip quivering.

He winked at me, smirking like he knew the end.

I took the carpeted steps two at a time, taking in a shuddering breath before I opened the heavy unlocked door on the third floor.

Just like we'd planned, I used the keycard to access a housekeeper's closet where a butler's trolley was stowed for my use.

I set the paper bag I'd been holding on a neighboring cart, focused and sweating from the armpits.

My mind played out all possible scenarios while I arranged the meal my mom had offered me on a serving tray. As the leading lady at the only decent diner in town, my mom had packed a good old-fashioned burger and fries. What she hadn't known was who she had prepared it for.

I bristled, blinking away the thought of my mother's wrath - or worse - her disappointment.

I folded a napkin, neatly tucking in a set of plasticware, untrusting of the hotel's dulled cutlery.

Before I could change my mind, I maneuvered the trolley out of the cramped space.

I feigned purposefulness as another housekeeper was ambling down the hallway. She didn't pay me any attention, as she rifled through her cart.