Chapter 4: Cold Showers and Cracking Facades

With that, I grabbed an umbrella from her hand, opened it, and walked out, ignoring her shouting behind me. Score one for me, I thought.

The air outside was fresh, the rain cool on my skin. I didn’t look back. Relief washed over me as her voice faded behind me, drowned out by the sound of tires splashing through puddles.

After wandering around for a while, I came back exhausted. My feet felt like lead.

My feet ached, my clothes damp. The city was alive with Memorial Day energy, but I just wanted a hot shower and a little peace. Please, just one thing go right.

I wanted a hot shower before trying the hotel’s famous buffet dinner—supposedly so good some guests book just for the meal. But when I turned the faucet, there was no hot water.

I turned the faucet, waited, but nothing but cold came out. The icy water stung my fingers. I tried not to panic, but after the day I’d had, it felt like the last straw.

I called the front desk from my room. Of course, Madison picked up. Just my luck.

Her voice was unmistakable, all sugar and spite. I braced myself.

"There’s no hot water in my room—can someone come check it?" I asked, trying to keep it together.

I tried to keep my tone neutral, but I could hear the frustration leaking through. My patience was hanging by a thread.

She recognized my voice and room number and replied rudely, her words like daggers.

"People like you are always causing trouble! Always something wrong! It’s summer—just take a cold one."

Her words made my skin crawl. I gripped the phone, willing myself not to scream. How was this even possible?

Then she hung up on me. I stared at the phone in disbelief.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear. I stared at the phone, stunned. Was this real life? Seriously?

Twenty minutes passed and no one showed up. My frustration boiled over.

I paced my room, checked the time, tried to distract myself with TV. Nothing. The water was still ice-cold. I wanted to scream.

I went straight to the front desk. "I said the water heater in my room’s broken—no one’s come to fix it." My voice was sharp, my patience gone.

I didn’t bother being polite. My hair was still wet from the rain, my patience threadbare. I planted myself in front of the desk, refusing to budge. Not this time.

Madison started to say something, checked the time, and her expression grew anxious. Was she finally worried?

She glanced at her watch, bit her lip. For the first time, she looked rattled. About time, I thought.

"Alright, I’ll send someone up," she said, her voice suddenly meek, almost apologetic. What changed?

Her voice was suddenly meek, almost apologetic. I wondered what had changed. Was someone watching?

I wondered why her attitude suddenly changed. Something was off. My suspicion grew.

Something was up. I scanned the lobby, trying to piece it together. Was the boss nearby?

A manager appeared next to us and asked, "How’s reception today—are the guests satisfied?" I perked up, watching closely.

He wore a crisp suit, his badge gleaming. Madison straightened up, her smile snapping into place. Busted, I thought.

Madison put on a fawning smile. "Of course!" she chirped, practically bowing. What a phony.

She practically bowed, her tone syrupy. The manager nodded, barely glancing at me. Typical.

The manager nodded, glanced at me a couple of times, and left. I wondered if he noticed anything.

He lingered for a moment, then walked away, leaving a trail of authority in his wake. Madison’s posture slumped as soon as he disappeared. Her mask dropped instantly.

On my way back, I overheard Madison talking to a coworker. Couldn’t help but listen in.

Their voices drifted through the open office door, low and urgent. I slowed down, pretending to check my phone.

"Tonight I’m having dinner with my boyfriend’s family," Madison said, her voice dreamy.

Her coworker sounded envious: "Is it that rich boyfriend? He said he’d bring his parents to visit—must be coming to see you since you can’t get time off."

Madison tried to sound modest. "Oh, it’s nothing—" but she couldn’t hide her smile. She was practically glowing.

She giggled, twirling a strand of hair. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Must be nice, I thought.

"When I marry into a wealthy family, I’ll never do this thankless job again!" she declared, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips.

She sighed, as if already picturing herself lounging by a pool, far from the front desk. Dream on, Madison.

Thinking back to that family, they didn’t look rich at all. More like regular folks than anything else.

Their clothes were worn, their shoes scuffed. They looked more like regular folks than the country club set. Nothing fancy about them.

I shook my head—none of my business. Let her chase her dreams.

It wasn’t my place to judge. I shrugged it off, reminding myself to stay in my own lane. Focus on your own weekend, I told myself.

At dinner, I picked a corner seat so I could enjoy the food and watch the whole restaurant. Best seat in the house.

The buffet was legendary—prime rib, crab legs, endless desserts. I filled my plate and settled in, people-watching as I ate. Not bad, I thought.

I was leisurely eating crab legs when I heard a familiar voice nearby. Oh, here we go again.

She had a way of making herself heard. I looked up, half-expecting trouble. Sure enough, there she was.

"Uncle Rick, Aunt Marsha, eat whatever you want, as much as you want," Madison gushed, sounding so generous you’d think she owned the place.

She sounded so generous, anyone would think she owned the place. Give me a break.