Wisp hated hotels.
Maybe it was the stupid confusing shower knobs, placed inconveniently. Or was it the minibars, always ready to nab from you a quick buck? Perhaps the yellow glow of the harsh artificial lights illuminating hallways of generic doors, generic plants, generic carpet.
Which was why he was hesitant to even take up a job as a receptionist. The stories about retail and reception were always terrible, always dealing with obnoxious customers complaining about the littlest things. Couldn’t they see he was just trying to get by? The economy was already shit post-recession, and the hotel offered him free room and board. Pay was trash, but at least he could afford somewhere to live.
His first experience with a customer happened about half an hour into his first shift. He had been spending most of his time counting the keys on the wall and getting used to the cash register, with all its bells and whistles. So engrossed in messing with the type function he nearly missed the sound of a jingling bell and the sound of a door opening and closing.
Wisp wiped his glasses and put them on, coming face to face with a child. Upon closer inspection, the little guy was actually probably closer to being a teenager, though his short stature did him no favors. Upon his head, a helicopter cap.
“Uh, sir? You look a little lost. Do you need any help?”
“No. I’m here to book a room.”
Company training must have been very bad if it couldn’t even prepare him for his very first “customer”.
“Do you have money?”
The teen pulled out a conspicuously bloody wallet from his shorts, bursting at the seams with cash. No joke. Hundred dollar bills. Stuffed in there like a redditor shoving mac and cheese down his throat.
“Okay. I’ll- I’ll put you on the list. It’ll be $150 a night. How long are you planning to stay?”
“As long as possible.”
“Alright, I’ll reserve room 42 for you. What name should I register for your room?”
“Just Vola.”
Wisp scrolled along the keys on the shelf, coming to 42 and grabbing it and tossing it to Vola, who was absentmindedly looking around the room. He caught the keys without moving his head.
“Seventy six.”
“Excuse me?”
“I counted the ceiling tiles.”
He did count the ceiling tiles.
He also took the stairs instead of the elevator. Most excruciating was the sound of the damn door keys scratching across the rusty handrails as he ascended the stairs. Made him want to tear his hair out. Or break his fist on concrete.
Immediately afterward, some college student walked into the glass sliding doors at the front of the building, momentarily surprised they weren’t pushing doors. From an employees perspective, she was more normal; a book bag slung over the shoulder, rimmed spectacles in one hand and a phone in the other. The only strange thing was the lab coat slung over her shoulders, like she had just been in Chem class or something.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Excuse me, did you happen to see a guy come in here?”
“I have seen someone come through here, yes.”
“Did he have a helicopter hat? Kind of scary looking? Counted the-”
“-ceiling tiles? He’s in room 42. He’s got the keys though, so you may want to knock.”
“No, it's fine, he just likes having his own room. Does his own thing sometimes. Sucks having to study and keep track of him at the same time.”
“Surely a kid could not be that hard to take care of?”
She stared at him like he was a lunatic. Even took off the glasses, rubbed them, put them back on.
“Please don’t say that to his face. I can’t afford to pay the hospital bills. I never even knew keys could be that deadly. I’ll just take the room next to his. How much for a night?”
“$150 dollars. He did say he was going to stay here as long as he could, though.”
The student cringed at the thought of spending all that money just to keep a problem child in check.
“Okay. I can probably afford that. Room 43 open?”
“Yup. Here’s the keys. Name please?”
“People just call me Snake.”
Wisp wrote it down on his clipboard as Snake took a moment to stuff the coat into the book bag and impatiently push the elevator button.
“Oh my god. Vola you bastard. I knew you would do this but I’m still mad about it.”
Her mumbling was in no way subtle. For ten agonizing seconds, Wisp could do nothing but stand there in utter silence, as Snake waited for the shitty elevator that the boss never paid to fix to descend the floors. He was saved only by divine intervention; another customer! Incredible! Never had he been so happy to get multiple clients at the same time.
He paused in his jubilee when he noticed the unusual getup. If he didn’t look at the face, he might’ve mistaken her for your typical high school senior. Coat, t-shirt, jeans, and hair more unruly than even Wisp’s morning bedhead. The only outlier was the mask. A gas mask. Not a new one either: it was more reminiscent of the Cold War. Despite the face obstruction, the voice of woman-who-just-pulled-an-all-nighter came through loud and clear.
“Here. Credit Card. Heard this place would be okay for a vacation or something.”
“Yeah. The hotel is within range of some attractions. Not quite Chasmae real estate, but its alright.”
“Really? Dave? I thought you said this was the best place to unwind?”
The man she was referring to came through the sliding doors, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, fedora, Lightning McQueen crocs, Adidas pants, and clutching a brochure for Disneyland tours.
“You said you didn’t really like vacations cause it's too much hustle and bustle, right? So I picked a more out of the way hotel. Less people. More calm.”
“Probably a lot of money though. How much for a night?”
“Big one fifty. I checked before we booked.
“See? That's a lot of money. I could commission a lot of art with that much money.”
“Yeah but you also complain about how tired you are and you know you probably need to unwind a little. Wouldn’t be a very good friend otherwise.”
Miss Gas Mask looked sulky, which was impressive when she could not show any kind of facial expression whatsoever. Looking up, she noticed Snake, still standing at the stupid probably broken elevator. Walking up to it, she banged on the doors. Hard. There was actually a small (but present) dent showing where she hit the door.
Ding! The elevator arrived. Wisp was astonished. What power. Where could he learn this witchcraft? Snake was very grateful, stepping into the elevator.
“Finally! Thanks, miss…”
“Acid. Elevators are kinda fickle. You just gotta know how to knock everything into place just right…”
The elevator doors closed on the two of them, leaving just Dave.
“Um. Are you going to go with your friend, or are you gonna…?”
“I’m going to go get the luggage. We already pre-booked online, by the way. Room 45.”
Wisp handed him the keys.
“Thanks. Sorry about the trouble. She’s just like that.”
“I’m glad, actually. This is just my first day. I think I’m going to be getting much weirder customers soon, with how things are going.”
“Weirder customers? Don’t be so down, man. You can already handle this much and you just started. It’ll be fine.”
Dave went to take the stairs. He did not grind his keys obnoxiously on the hand rail. Wisp appreciated the kind gesture. Yes, he could already handle this much. He had gone to the meetings and done everything he was supposed to do. Everything would be just fine.
(It wouldn’t.)