Page 26 of Coach Sully
“Who booked the reservation?”
“Umm…” I grab my phone and open my emails, searching for the admin in charge of booking my room. “Jessica Boelter? Or it might be under Whitney… Olson.” I haven’t actually metthese people, but those are the only contacts I have. “Is there a problem?”
“I see that we had a reservation for you…” He continues clacking away at the keyboard.
Had.Don’t like the sound of that.
He nods at the computer. “I see what happened. We had you checking in yesterday with the rest of your party.” Everybody else got here a day early, just in case—they were smart. I was hoping to avoid all the partying the night before. “Unfortunately, when you didn’t check in within twenty-four hours, we were forced to give your room to someone else. We tried calling you earlier.”
Probably while I was on a plane.
“Yeah, I think there must have been some miscommunication on my arrival dates when the rooms were booked. That’s fine. Can you hook me up with a new room? I’m fine with whatever you have available.” I don’t give a shit what happened with my original reservation, just give me a bed so I can crash.
The man grits his teeth, cringing.Shit.“I’m so sorry, we are fully booked for the night. With the hockey draft going on, we’re at max capacity. I truly apologize for the mix-up.”
I nod and sigh. “Not your fault. Mind if I hang out in the lobby while I find a new hotel?”
“Not at all. And we’d be happy to shuttle you to any nearby lodging. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Damn it.
I roll my suitcase over to a gold-colored upholstered chair off to the side, then unbutton my suit jacket and open the search bar for any available accommodations. Dropping into the chair, I scrub a hand down my face. This is bad. I’ve been to enough drafts to know that there’s probably not anything available. I restmy elbows on my knees while scrolling for hotel vacancies on my phone. It’s not going well. After five minutes, it’s clear to see there’s not a room in the whole fucking city. Everybody is here for the draft.
I can get a room at a hotel outside of the city in the suburbs, but I don’t feel like commuting that far out. Especially if I’m supposed to be meeting with my team for breakfast tomorrow. I contemplate driving back to the airport and seeing if I can catch a red-eye home. Brunch be damned.
“Do you need help finding your room?” she says on a giggle, and my frustration eases at the sight of her smile.
I chuckle. “I don’t have a room. Whoever booked my travel accommodations had me checking in yesterday. So when I didn’t show up, they thought I was a no-show and gave the room away.”
“What! Well, have them give you a different room.”
“They’re fully booked.” I glance back down to my phone and scroll. “Every hotel is full. Happens at every draft… Anyway, did you enjoy your bourbon neat or whatever?”
She extracts her phone and taps the screen. “I did. You look like you could use one too… Let’s see if I can find something for you.” She yawns.
“Don’t worry about it. Go up to your room, Kendra. I’ll be fine.”
She shakes her head, still tapping around. “Damn, you weren’t kidding, there’s nothing available…” She locks her phone and slips it into her purse. “I can’t leave you. You’re important to me—I mean, to the show—I need to make sure you get settled. It’s part of my job.”
“Kendra.”
“Come with me to my room. I gotta get out of these shoes and then we’ll figure everything out.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m serious, it’s part of my job. Fighting me on this only makes you a bigger pain in my ass. Please don’t.”
I show my palms in surrender. “Whatever you say, Boss.” I’m honestly too tired to argue.
We get in the elevator, and she presses the button for the eighth floor. She pulls out her phone again, as if somehow in the last couple minutes the hotels nearby had vacancies magically appear. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do,” she says, yawning again. “I’m going to give you my room—”
“I’m not taking your hotel room.”
“Yes you are. I’m going to see if someone from my team has an extra bed I can have.”
“Just give me your sofa, and I’ll be fine.”