Page 7 of The Penalty

“Too bad Colin couldn’t come with us.” Holme’s son is only two years older than me, and he’s a major comic book fan. I’ve always gotten along with him.

“Yes. He would have enjoyed that.”

“Right? How’s his new job going?” After graduation, he got a job with a new tech start up in Boston. He’s my go to fixerfor all computer related problems. I’m out of options if turning it off and back on again doesn’t work.

A smile spreads across his face, and his brown eyes gleam. I’m one hundred percent sure I’ve never seen that much pride on my father’s face. “He’s loving it. I don’t understand a word when he tells me about all the computer stuff, but it’s going great.”

My smile is a little tight, but I nod. I’m so happy for Colin, but I can’t stop a twinge of jealousy from creeping up. If only my dad and mom were as accepting as Holmes. But it’s fine. After I graduate, the world is wide open. I can do the artist thing. Just have to get through this last year of college without getting into any trouble.

We pull around the curved driveway, stopping at the drop-off zone in front of the convention hotel. As soon as the tickets went on sale, I locked in a room. Since I wasn’t expecting to bring a chaperone, the hotel predictably filled up fast. Holmes is staying somewhere on the outskirts of the city. He’ll make the trek back to Pittsburgh tomorrow. At least my father didn’t make him stay to babysit me at the con.

I drop a hand on the older man’s jacketed forearm as he rises to help me with my luggage.

“It’s okay. I got this Holmes.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he tips his hat at me. “Embarrassed to be seen with this old man?”

“Obviously.” I laugh, but yes, I am. Not because of him, specifically. He’s fantastic. Although I try not to let people’s opinions of me cut too deep, the little scars I’ve accumulatedover the years often break open under scrutiny. And showing up with my family’s chauffeur at a comic book convention is a little too direct a target. Not that anyone will even notice me yet. Hopefully.

“Well then. You enjoy yourself and have a great school year.”

“I will. Thanks again for the ride. I’ll see you at Christmas, if not before.” Probably not. There’s not much reason to go home before then. I can beg off Thanksgiving. Fingers crossed. Schoolwork is always a solid excuse. And with the only family member I care to see on the regular at the same school, I’m good. Although Beau will probably drive me up the wall within a week if he gets all protective brother on me.

I tug the brim of my black baseball hat down lower, adjusting the white-blonde ponytail sticking out the back. I’m not usually a ball cap kind of girl, but there’s been a media target on my back since the “incident” and my hair is like a beacon. The flurry has died down, but I’m still on constant high alert. The spotlight on my family is always there, but when it’s focused on me, the unflattering light they cast me in is oppressive. Those are the times I envy my brother. He gets caught coming out of a club looking a little disheveled with a girl on his arm and he’s a hero. If I’m caught in a miniskirt with smeared lipstick, I’m a drunk hot mess whose thighs are looking thicker than usual after putting on the frosh fifteen. Assholes and their double standards.

All the negative thoughts dissipate as I pass through the slowly revolving front door into the bustling hotel lobby. It’snot the usual crowd of hotel guests. The business people in their tailored suits and crisply ironed blouses look out of place surrounded by the fans in jeans and graphic tees. It must feel like an invasion of their natural habitat. A colorful array of unnatural but gorgeous hair colors is represented. Maybe I should have dyed my hair before I got here. That would be a surefire way to disguise my signature locks, but I’ve got to be on my best behavior. And that one time I experimented with royal blue hair had me in tech jail for an entire semester of high school. I’m hoping to earn my car back by the new year.

I join the lineup of people shuffling around as they wait to check in, avoiding the VIP desk. That would shine a glaring spotlight on me, and I’d probably get identified. Not the way to start off the weekend.

The small group waiting in front of me is debating the merits of the newest Game of Thrones spinoff series. One of the girls has shimmery metallic pointed ear cuffs that are giving me jewelry envy. If it wouldn’t draw attention to me, I’d ask her where she got them, but that kind of conversation can wait until tomorrow when I can melt into the crowd and hide under a wig. Thank goodness for cosplay.

My knuckles are aching from clenching my huge rolling bag, and I force myself to relax my grip. The next desk agent flashes me a smile that puts every inch of his bright white teeth on display as he calls me over.

Excited jitters are twisting my insides as I step forward, sliding my credit card across the smooth surface of the desk.

“Cece Whitaker,” I whisper, eyes darting leftand right.

I hate the way his smile falters for a second before he composes himself, turning his eyes down to stare at the screen in front of him as he taps away on his keyboard. His dark brows draw together.

“Miss Whitaker, you’re a VIP member of our rewards program. There was no need to wait in this line.” He turns to look at the lonely-looking agent manning the VIP desk.

I sigh, leaning forward to drop my elbows on the smooth surface of the desk. “Listen. I’m trying to keep a low profile here. I would appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself that I’m staying here. Please.” I lean in a little closer, pleading with my eyes. I’m not afraid to beg.

His shoulders straighten as his professional smile snaps back into place.

“Of course, Miss Whitaker. I would never give out guest information. Privacy is our policy here at the Four Winds.”

“Thank you.”

I sign my scratchy signature on the paper he slides over and slip him a hundred after he hands me the little envelope with my room keys.

He doesn’t flinch, dropping a casual hand over the bill. His cuff slips up to reveal a mid range gold watch.

I duck my head down again as I pad along the shiny lobby floor to reach the bank of elevators. Twenty-third floor. I keep my head lowered the entire ride up as people come and go, shooting through the doors as soon as they slide open.

My shoulders don’t relax until I tap my key on the door pad and the green light flashes.

My first move is to hang the do not disturb sign on the door before I slide the bolt and latch home. I spin around, letting out a squeal as I spot the huge white bed. Finally. I’m free.

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