Bad Luck Hotel

Room 223, Frankston Hotel.
4:01pm.

Cly’s just wasting time in one of the unoccupied rooms, watching The Simpsons re-runs, when she gets a text from Tony.

what u doin tonite? xo T.

Tonight? Well, she’s planning on wallowing in sorrow and self-pity until she passes out on her sofa from an overdose of Ben & Jerry’s. Why does that suddenly matter to Tony? Maybe he won’t be babysitting the Frankston kid after all, and wants to come over to Cly’s for some quality BFF time. She lets out a gasp of happiness as she hurries to text a reply.

nm dude. sup? xoxo

His answer comes within a matter of seconds. The boy’s got thumbs like turbo engines.

lindsay wants me to b her date for the benefit! can you take over my babysitting duties? xo T.

Screw that. She should’ve known it was too good to be true. Cly frowns at the text for at least a minute before she reaches her final decision. Sighing, she begins to work her thumbs against the buttons.

u owe me, toad-face. what do i need to do?

Her life sucks.

~

A Limo, Somewhere in Los Angeles.
4:29pm.

“We should play Underdog tonight,” Joe suggests, already well into that heightened mood he feels before they play a concert. Nick and Kevin both shoot him curious looks.

“How about no?” their father says from the front seat of the limo. Joe almost jumps when he speaks; he had no idea Kevin Senior was listening.

“Why not?” he rallies once he’s regained himself.

“It’s not on the setlist,” is all he gets in reply.

Nick nudges his thigh. “Why Underdog?”

“Just feel like it,” Joe shrugs. Okay, so maybe that was a stupid suggestion, after all. They only ever play Year 3000 these days, and that’s okay with him. They finished promoting It’s About Time years ago. They have to make room for Lines, Vines and Trying Times, now. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit random. I should’ve slept more last night.”

Kevin yawns as he says this. “I think we all should have,” he mutters, then calls out to the front of the vehicle. “Hey dad, have we got a few spare hours now?”

They hear a faint beeping as Kevin Snr. checks their schedule. “One at the most. Then you’ve got to start getting ready for the benefit. Everyone has to show up at six and it won’t do for the main event to be late.”

The brothers sigh, but they’ve learnt to accept that life can’t always work to their liking. “Someone get me a six pack of Red Bull,” Nick mutters, letting his head fall back against the leather upholstery.

Joe presses his cheek to the window beside him just as the limo pulls onto the street where Frankston Hotel is situated. A girl in a blue hoodie is hurrying down the footpath, obviously needing to get somewhere fast. She looks oddly familiar…

“Is that the girl from last night?” Kevin questions, leaning over Joe to stare at the same figure. As Joe looks closer, he finds that yeah, it is.

All three brothers are looking out the window at her now. Unaware of their gazes, she stumbles over a crack in the pavement but regains herself before she falls completely, and Joe doesn’t bother to hold back his bark of laughter.

“She’s a funny one…” he comments, kind of admiringly.

“Wonder what she’s up to,” Kevin ponders.

Dad turns around in his seat. “What are you boys ogling at?”

A bemused smirk slowly spreads its way across Nick’s features. “Only Joe’s new obsession,” he says slyly, earning a poke in the ribs from his second-oldest brother.

“She’s not my obsession!” Joe scoffs, just as the girl disappears into an outfitter’s shop. He bites his bottom lip. “…Yet,” he adds softly.

~

Formal Outfitters, Los Angeles.
4:32pm.

“Hi, I’m from Frankston Hotel. I have an app-”

“You’re late.” Cly yelps out loud as a thin man with a comb-over takes her arm in a death grip, tugs her fully into the shop and then onto a fitting pedestal. He cocks an eyebrow as his eyes sweep her up and down. “Monsieur Dustin said he was sending a boy.”

Oh, so now he notices she’s actually a female. Flattering, really. “Last minute change of plans,” she says quickly, hoping this guy won’t put up a fuss. As yet, Dustin has no idea that she’s taken Tony’s spot as Vincent Frankston’s chaperone. Their plan is to keep it secret until it’s altogether too late for the manager to fix it. After all, he’d never give Cly a job of such great importance.

“Nothing I cannot handle,” the clerk says in a thick accent that’s going to take Cly some time getting used to, and then he’s hurrying away in search of something for her to wear. She tries to wait patiently for a few minutes, but by the time he returns she’s sitting on the edge of the pedestal, resting her chin in her hands. Her eyes widen considerably when she sees the entire rack of dresses he’s picked out for her.

“Up! Up!” he demands, grabbing her elbow and hoisting her back to her feet. “Let me see that skin tone.” Suddenly her hoodie’s being yanked off and the clerk’s holding dresses up in front of her, inspecting them for mere seconds before grunting and tossing them aside, only to collect more from the rack. This continues with all the dresses until he’s left with three finalists. Only then does he ask her opinion. “Which of these?” he questions, indicating to the clothes with a flourish of his right hand.

Cly considers the fact that this will be going on the hotel’s bill and grins maliciously. “The most expensive one.”

And that’s that. After it’s been fitted and adjusted to her figure, Cly’s walking out of the shop with a fancy little silver dress slung over her shoulder, feeling quite pleased with herself. She’s even got matching shoes and jewellery. That should be a nice surprise for Dustin.