“Is this really the best idea?” I asked, as Jack led me through the automatic revolving doors leading into the grand entryway of ‘La Palaza’ hotel back in Rome. A luxury establishment, adorned with gold fixtures and embossed wares, sporting a beautiful looking monogram placed everywhere. A towering, multi tiered glass chandelier hovered far above us, illuminating the spacious entry, and expensive paintings, with a crystalline glimmer.

  “They wouldn’t expect us to hide out in a place like this.” Jack whispered, lugging both our bags over his broad shoulders with ease.

  “Won’t they have us on some type of blacklist?” I said, eyeing excited bellboys nervously, as they approached expeditiously.

  “That’s not how this works,” Jack said. “To a small party, a small network, we’re in the black...but, this is something that they’ll want to keep on the lowdown anyway.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I see.”

  Jack waved away the bellboys, smiling graciously at them. “I got it, thanks.”

  “Where’s Angus?” I started up again, observing the fancy garb of socialites sipping martinis on contemporary, uncomfortable looking, couches as we passed by on our way as to the front desk.

  “He probably had some things to take care of on his own. Don’t worry about him. He can take care of himself.”

  I nodded as we came to a stop before the exquisite marbled grain of the check-in area.

  “Good evening,” a

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  woman wearing a tight bun, pristine in its elegant, yet unassuming style, welcomed us with a thin smile and warm greeting. “Checking in?”

  “That’s right,” Jack said, equipping a uniquely Texan twang. I almost couldn’t help but laugh, despite it actually sounding quite good. “Should be under Mr. and Mrs. Jack Smith.”

  I coughed to hide my laughter. How original. Still, I think I would’ve done the same thing. Now that I think about it though, we definitely didn’t have a reservation.

  “One night,” Jack affirmed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith.” The woman typed furiously on her computer. “I’m not seeing anything. Do you have a reservation number?”

  “Uh, well, I think I lost it. Honey...” he turned to me. “Do you have it, by any chance?”

  “I left it with you, the paperwork,” I shot back with a grin, that I had to subdue for my newest role. I pumped my hands at my waist, in minor frustration.

  “Oh, I don’t recall that,” Jack said, rubbing his chin.

  “How about an email confirmation?” The woman asked, her brow dipping with concern.

  “Nah,” Jack said, “we don’t use them things abroad. Too much o’ that 'dentity theft, and whatnot.”

  “I...see,” the woman said, typing indiscriminately. “We are booked up for the evening, I’m afraid.”

  “How about a manager?” Jack asked, seemingly knowing the answer already. “Is there one around here.”

  “I’m afraid not, sir. If you’d like to wait...?” She trailed off.

  “No, now, I don’t think that would be right. Gotta get this little lady here a bed, pronto.” Jack reached into his front pants pocket, fishing for something. “Is there anything you can do for me?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” she sighed.

  “Truly?” Jack asked again, pulling out $300 dollars cash, and raising it up to her.

  The woman’s eyes glazed over. “Uh, well, I can always check again.” She resumed typing, furiously.

  “Atta girl,” Jack grinned.

  “Ah here, I did find an open room. Someone just must’ve canceled.”

  “What a wonderful coincidence,” Jack said, “for us that is,” adding a hearty laugh, and finishing the transaction.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” I said, as we walked away.

  “I can’t either. That accent really fooled her, huh?”

  “No,” I laughed, “I don’t think it was the accent that did it.” I smiled. “What now?”

  “Well,” Jack looked to me with a smirk, and handed me the key card,” we do have some time to kill.”