It Goes On (Sample)

Chapter 2

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. - Neale Donald Walsch

"We can't afford to stay here. What—Are you crazy?" I asked, exasperated, as Mom pulled around to the front of an obviously expensive hotel. Written above the entrance in a modest script was The Beverly Windsor. The hotel was an H-shaped sandstone building with many bay windows and balconies; it took up quite a large chunk of real estate in the middle of the city. It looked like a castle—and way out of our price range.

"I used one of those social coupon sites and got a really good deal. We're staying here for the week." She smiled at me, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Before I could respond, two men from the hotel opened our doors and welcomed us.

"May we unload your vehicle, madam?" one of the bellhops asked.

Mom handed over the keys in consent and both men began unloading our "luggage". They were utterly professional as they loaded our dilapidated boxes onto the dolly.

I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. We definitely did not look like the typical hotel guests I assumed this place received. After three days on the road, Mom and I were a little rough around the edges and practically wearing pajamas. That combined with the boxes, shock, and exhaustion, I lost it.

Mom glared at me. "Kate, do stop snorting," she reprimanded.

That only made me laugh harder.

"I will go check us in, stay here for a moment." She gave me one last warning look before she marched into the lobby with unabashed confidence.

I grabbed the magazine I was reading out of the SUV and gaped at my surroundings. The hotel had tall ceilings and a rich interior of golds and creams with red furniture spotting the lobby.

I was out of my element and wondered just how different LA would be.

Within minutes we were in our room on the eighth floor, and Mom handed over a generous tip. I gave her a meaningful look, but she waved it off.

"I'm the mom here, Kate. Let me worry about the money. Now enjoy the view."

There were two separate bedrooms with a large common room in-between. It was all cream and whites with dashes of blue.

Exhausted from days on the road, I went straight to my bed and crashed. Snuggled in the lightweight cotton comforter, I pushed my reservations about money out of my head and slept.

The next morning, I woke to bright sunshine filling my room and my phone ringing. Laying in my cocoon of sheets, pillows, and comforter, I don't think I'd ever been so comfortable in my life. I reluctantly hopped out of bed to answer the ringing that wouldn't stop.

Please don't let it be Mark. I didn't want to hear his excuses this morning. I exhaled the breath I was holding when I saw the screen lit up with my cousin Lexi's name.

"Bitch, where are you?" Her voice blared in my ear before I could even speak. "Are you in town? I want to pick you up for lunch."

I cut her off, "I'm here, just getting up now. What time do you want to go?" I glanced at the alarm clock, shocked that it was already one pm.

"Get up, get ready, I'll come pick you up in, like, thirty minutes. Where you at?" Lexi demanded.

"We're at some swanky hotel in Beverly hills." Unable to recall the name, I checked the nightstand table, but it wasn't there. I shuffled over to the mahogany desk in the room and saw a notepad with the name printed on it. "The Beverly Windsor."