“Chicken and rice. It’s probably cold by now.”
Marisol placed the foil-wrapped burrito on my dashboard and rubbed her hands together. Her fingers were red from the freezing rain.
I looked at the food.
Then at the blanket folded neatly across her lap.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked.
“Almost nine years.”
“Nine years?”
She nodded.
“My husband used to work maintenance here. Before he got sick.”
Something in her voice made me look closer.
She was probably in her late forties, with dark hair pinned beneath a hotel-issued cap and tired brown eyes that had seen too many early mornings.
“Is he all right?”
She looked down.
“He passed away two years ago.”
I felt a familiar ache settle beneath my ribs.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Rain hammered against the windshield.
Then Marisol glanced toward the hotel.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping out here,” she whispered. “Especially not in this weather.”
I looked at the massive stone building glowing against the mountainside.
“And yet here I am.”
Her expression tightened.
“I heard what happened at the front desk.”
“Did you?”
She nodded.
“Mr. Vain does that sometimes.”
I turned toward her.
“Does what?”
“Decides who belongs here.”
I didn’t answer.
Marisol continued carefully.
“If someone arrives in an expensive car, he personally welcomes them. Sometimes he sends champagne to their rooms. But if someone looks like they don’t have much money…”
She stopped.
“What happens?”
“They get extra charges. Sometimes they’re told we’re fully booked.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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