The Crescent

Chapter 14

"I want to go home."

"Sweetie, it's only for a week and a half. Your father – "

"Mom, it's not about him. I just want to go home. I...I don't feel good."

"Zacari, that excuse isn't going to work this time. The least you can do is try."

"Mom, please – "

"Zacari."

Zacari pressed her phone to her ear curled deeper into the sofa. Her mother hadn't scolded her in a while. She squeezed Lela to her chest, who was openly sitting on her lap. It didn't matter, as long as she convinced her mother to come pick her up. It was more reasonable to wait in Room 218, but if it was really Norman Baker's old office, it was the last place she wanted to be. She was camped out in the foyer instead. Initially it'd been jam-packed with guests, but one by one they retired to their rooms, and Zacari was practically alone. Her father wasn't answering her calls. Even Allison was gone, replaced by the overnight receptionist, a college-aged girl with bubblegum pink headphones either scrolling through her phone or flipping through a People magazine.

Calling her mother had been a last resort. Zacari was still angry for forcing her on this trip, as if it could somehow fix the thing broken between her and her father. But she was scared.

"Please," her mother sighed on the other side of the phone. She sounded so tired. "I get it, I really do. Your father is a difficult person. But he loves you. Just do this for me."

"But, Mom – "

Zacari stopped. It wasn't worth the argument. If she really pushed, her mother would understand, maybe for the wrong reasons, but she'd understand all too well, and the trip would be cut short and Zacari could return home. But her mother would be upset for weeks. Not at Zacari, but for Zacari. As much as she loathed this trip and her father, Zacari wanted her mother to be happy. Maybe stomaching a haunted hotel and her father was worth that.

"Okay," she resigned.

"Thank you, sweetie." The relief in her voice was evident. "I love you so much. Just try to have a good time, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

She ended the call somewhere between tears and hurling her phone across the foyer. Lela snuggled under her arm comfortingly.

"Excuse me," dripped a voice patronizingly. Zacari looked up. It was Ed the Bellman, closer in range than she preferred. The slopes and slumps of his face were mottled like overdone lasagna with a off-centered bulbous nose and two two piggy eyes peering out. He oozed sanctimony. "The Crescent Hotel doesn't allow dogs."

"I'm sorry, I just thought –"

"Thought what? That we'd want your rat defecating all over the carpets?" He shook his head in a disgusted manner. "Do you even have a room here or are you just soliciting?" The "s" in "soliciting" took too long to slide off his tongue. Zacari's face burned. She wished she'd kept Lela pocketed.

One of the front doors creaked open and woman in mismatched pajamas and a pink-frocked trench coat slipped inside. Zacari recognized Allison's blond dye job and curvy frame. She met her gaze desperately.

"Oh, hi, love, sorry I didn't catch you after the ghost tour," she trailed off as she surveyed Ed's scowling face. "Is there a problem, Ed?"

Ed puffed his chest. "This little hoodrat is camping out on the couch, with a dog no less."

Zacari jutted her chin forward even as her throat swelled with unleashed tears. Allison turned to Ed and intertwined her precise and pretty nails. "You know very well she has a room, and our guests are welcome to sit where they please."