Security, remove this vagrant immediately. Rebecca Miller snatched the sanitizer bottle from her desk. Without warning, she sprayed it directly into David Thompson’s face.
David flinched, wiping his eyes. The antiseptic burned. You’re contaminating our lobby. Rebecca’s voice dripped with disgust.
She jabbed her manicured finger toward the exit like he was vermin. David hadn’t even spoken a word.
Guests froze in horror. A businessman’s coffee cup trembled in his hand. A young woman’s phone captured everything, her mouth a gape.
Security Chief Steve Wilson stormed forward, hand on his radio. Sir, you need to leave now.
David’s voice stayed impossibly calm despite the stinging. I have a reservation. Rebecca’s laugh was cruel, theatrical.
Sure you do, sweetie. The marble lobby buzzed with shocked whispers and clicking cameras. The sanitizer’s sharp smell hung in the air like evidence.
Have you ever been judged by your appearance before anyone knew who you really were?
The sanitizer still stung David’s eyes as Rebecca Miller circled him like a predator. Her heels clicked against marble with each deliberate step.
Look at this, she announced to the growing crowd. Another scammer trying to con his way into our penthouse suites.
David pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, dabbing his face with quiet dignity. The gesture revealed a flash of platinum, his American Express black card, before disappearing back into the expensive wool.
I’m not trying to con anyone, David said evenly. I have a confirmed reservation under Thompson.
Rebecca’s eyes rolled so hard they nearly disappeared. Thompson? How original. She turned to the audience like a performer.
They always used generic American names. A hotel guest shifted uncomfortably. Others leaned in closer, phones raised.
Janet Davis, the assistant manager, materialized at Rebecca’s side. Her smile was predatory. What seems to be the problem here?
This gentleman, Rebecca emphasized the word with dripping sarcasm, claims he belongs in our hotel.
Look at him, Janet. Does he look like our typical clientele? David’s phone buzzed. The screen briefly displayed board meeting reminder.
300 p.m. He silenced it with practiced calm. Sir. Janet’s voice carried false concern. Perhaps you’re confused about your hotel.
There’s a Motel 6 about 3 mi down. I’m not confused. David’s tone remained steady.
My reservation confirmation is right here. He reached for his phone again. Rebecca immediately stepped back, hand flying to her chest in theatrical alarm.
