Farrago Hotel-Read Chapter 1 Here
The Homecoming
a short fiction series: Chapter 2
Cachemera brought the car to a rolling stop in the circle drive under the perforated shade of the Farrago’s tattered canvas awning. What had once been a regal welcome and shelter from the elements was now moth eaten or hail bombed making the hotel look more pitiful than prestigious.
Macon’s head lolled left toward her. His breathing was deep, even, and his eye lids remained smooth.
She risked staring openly at his face, allowing his features to make an impression. Despite the receding hairline, he looked rather boyish in this vulnerable state. He certainly wasn’t as old as she’d first thought. Sleep had taken nearly a decade off her first guess at his age. Now she’d give him mid-thirties, give or take a year. Cachemera would never have been able to sleep in the front seat of a car with someone she’d just met, driving her to a place she’d never been. This guy was either too tired to care, or he’d decided he could trust her. Clearly a luxury most women would never enjoy if the shoe were on the other foot.
If he’d made the latter determination, he wasn’t entirely correct, because if he could actually trust her they wouldn’t be anywhere near here, and he would not be about to check into the Farrago Hotel.
If Cache had any guts at all she’d take her foot off the brake and get the hell out of there taking her fare with her.
She looked curiously at the double glass doors at the top of the steps. The large panes were smudged with a collage of hand and fingerprints. She glanced at the digital clock on the dash. It was past 3:30, the doorman, Gary, always had them cleaned up by now since most the departing guests were long gone, and the new guests hadn’t yet arrived.
The Farrago Hotel had entered its most predictable time of day, the lull, and yet Cachemera felt something wholly unpredictable in the air and it made the hair on her arms wriggle in their follicles. This feeling, of course, was beyond her standard aversion to the hotel and childhood ‘playground’.
Where was Gary, the doorman? He was one of the Farrago’s few redeeming qualities as far as Cache was concerned. ‘Mr Farrago’ she used to call him, teasing him about his dedication to the old hotel.
Too curious for her own good she put the car in park, but let it idle. She cleared her throat and hit the trunk release certain her passenger would stir.
Macon Timothy obliged with such a start he nearly jumped into her lap.
“We’re here, sir, Cachemera said. We best get you checked in if you aim to keep your schedule. Welcome to the Farrago Hotel,” she added with mock enthusiasm.
Cachemera intently watched the man, still groggy from sleep, stumble to the trunk and retrieve his bag. Her hand remained on the gear shift and her foot rested lightly on the accelerator. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the entrance to her fare’s progress, willing him to hurry the hell up. As soon as he paid she intended to put the Farrago in her review mirror for the last time.
Each time she came, which was less and less as she got older, she always resolved never to return, but this time she really meant it. She’d been nothing more to her parents than a chamber maid, a hired hand they never had to pay. Cache was through making their beds and keeping their secrets. Mr Timothy was on his own.
A light tap on the driver’s window brought Cache’s head round with such a dizzying snap Macon thought she may have injured herself. He’d never seen an Uber driver so jumpy but maybe she was new at this, he thought.
Cachemera lowered the window half way.
“How much?” Macon asked.
“Twenty-five dollars, please,” Cachemera replied, barely exchanging eye contact with the man her eyes had roamed freely over while he slept only minutes earlier.
Macon handed her two twenty dollar bills. “Keep the change, and thanks,” he said, smiling for the first time since he’d approached her car at the airport.
Someone could have held a loaded pistol to her temple and she wouldn’t have been able to tell them exactly why she did what she did next. Perhaps it was his smile. Maybe it was her guilt. But whatever it was, it prompted a decision that would change the Farrago Hotel forever.
Macon’s hand was poised to grab the brass handle of the double doors and pull when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He whirled around and was met by Cachemera’s smiling green eyes.
“Hey, listen, I’ve got a little time, let me show you around after you get checked in. I grew up here so it would be the rare “behind the scenes” tour, if you’re interested,” she smiled genuinely, trying not to oversell it and waited for him to beg off. But Macon surprised them both by accepting her offer after realizing he didn’t feel at all as tired as he did a few hours earlier.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you in the lobby, and please, call me Cache,” she said, then hustled back down the steps to her car, still smiling.
Cache pulled smoothly out of the main entrance and drove to the back side of the hotel and parked her car behind the maintenance building. Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, she hustled into the hotel through the side door which was perpetually propped open with a rolled towel so the smoking employees could sneak in and out on their breaks without using a key card.
She’d use the housekeeping elevator, taking it up to the main floor, hoping to get in and out of the lobby with Mr Timothy unseen.
But when the elevator came to a stop and the doors parted, instead of finding Macon in the lobby, she found herself face to face with her stepmother, Alice Chown. The smile pasted on Alice’s face looked as though it had been cut from a magazine with pinking shears. It was anything but warm, though to the untrained outsider Alice appeared happy to see her stepdaughter when she took Cache’s arm and led her over to a dim corner of the lounge.
Macon loafed around the lobby a little longer than he probably should have waiting for his green-eyed guide, but after fifteen minutes he was beginning to think she’d ditched him until he caught a glimpse of her in the lounge talking to a woman in an over-starched housekeepers uniform. Neither woman looked happy and their voices were taut with anger.
Against his better judgement, Macon decided to rescue Cache and get on with the tour she’d promised him.
As he approached the entrance to the lounge Cache shot from the darkened opening and brushed past him without stopping. He wasn’t even sure she’d seen him, but when she got to the large glass doors exiting the lobby she stopped and turned slightly.
“Meet me out front in five minutes,” she called over her shoulder, ‘if you want to live,’ she thought to herself as she passed through to the sunlight.
© S Lynn Knight, 2018