(18+) The Guest (Complete)

Ch. 4: New menu

"Oh-ooooh..." Sophia hummed suspiciously, when I entered the lobby after disappearing for almost an hour. And without any questions at all, she pulled me into the office and started going through her purse.

"Thank me later, when you give me all the juicy details, mama," she mumbled, while applying concealer on the hickies that started to get visible on my neck.

"Pedro thought something terrible happened to you, and has been worried sick! Your mom asked about you, too. But I just told them you were helping the Japanese couple with their TV."

"Japanese couple...?" I asked confusedly, flustered that she obviously figured out why I was gone.

"Yeah. The TV in that room has been failing a lot lately, and it probably needs to be replaced. The couple just got here though, and probably don't even know yet, but just so you're prepared for when your mother... And she's coming! Look alive, Ana!"

The last part, she whisper-yelled right before my mom came in.

"Lilliana Roberta Martinez!" she exclaimed, sounding like she was going to throw a verbal bucket of ice water in my face. But when she saw what we were doing, she frowned. Luckily, Sophia managed to hide the concealer she was holding, so it looked like she was just fixing something on my collar or shoulder. So I quickly smiled at her and folded my hands innocently in front of me.

"Stain," I excused, then stepped around her and sneaked out. And I could feel her eyes burning a hole in my skull as I walked toward the dining area, where the big party was going to be held in barely an hour. And since I quickly found things that needed to be done and got to work, my mom couldn't yell at me. Not in public, at least. But I expected nothing but the usual reprimand under four eyes later. I sighed while I carried a tray of folded napkins to put on the tables, and cursed at the fact that Michael had wrecked my panties. I'd tried to sneak into the spa to get a pair of disposable ones, but Andrea started asking questions, so I left. And to walk around at work without underwear, made me feel like I had a blinking neon sign over my head, even though I knew nobody could see anything. But I didn't have the time to go home and change like I did this morning. We simply had to much to do. Luckily, we managed to get done in time, and the guests seemed pleased afterwards, which was our top priority. And I lost count of how many handshakes and 'muchas gracias' I got, while they slowly moved towards one of the bars, then further into the ballroom where the music already had started playing.

"So, who is he?"

I turned to see Sophia with a wash cloth. And even though she continued to clean the tables, it was clear that she wanted me to spill the beans.

"No one," I tried, but the glare I got in return made me laugh. Why did I even bother to try to lie to my best friend? It was like waving five pounds of meth in front of a police dog and hope that it suddenly had lost his smell.

"Well?"

She tapped her foot and leaned on her hip, while chewing on her gum. And I quickly walked up to her so we could talk undisturbed.

"401. Fernand Diaz."

I still contemplated whether to reveal the guest's real identity or not, but I didn't get much of a choice. Because Sophia suddenly gasped.

"Michael Jackson?!"

I flushed beet red and bit my lip.

"Uhm... Yeah, he..."

But she interrupted me, clearly focused on something behind me.

"Shut up, Ana! Look. Don't you think that man looks like Michael Jackson?"