Page 65 of Not that Impressed
I squeeze his arm one more time and then pull Libby from the room. She leans into me as we walk down the hall, back to the elevator. Will and I haven’t even been to the room he booked us earlier so we couldn’t be kicked off the premises. I might need to text him and have him tell me how to get there since he knows the map. First, I’m going to walk and breathe and be grateful I have Libby next to me.
I pull out my phone to text the family group chat.
Ellie
Libby’s with me. She’s okay.
The phone explodes with buzzing, but my heart is still pounding. I won’t be able focus on the texts and what to say and how to reassure them. I hand the phone to Libby.
“Call Mom,” I say, my voice breaking. The adrenaline is fading, and now I’m on the edge of tears.
Libby doesn’t let go of me when she takes the phone. She looks up at me as we pause at the elevator. Mascara is smeared around her eyes, and they’re red. She’s been crying. I push strands of hair out of her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, quietly. She swallows and doesn’t answer, so I pull her into a hug.
“I thought it was going to be this big adventure. A private jet and a fancy resort.” Her voice is pitched high and airy. I squeeze her tighter. “I thought he was so cool and older and he likedme.” She pulls in a breath and her whole body shudders.
“I’ve got you, Libs,” I whisper.
Her words start coming in choppy bursts. “Then you guys were freaking … out and when he … he gave fake names at the hotel … and … and he wouldn’t let me have my phone … and he wanted … he wanted?—”
She’s hyperventilating. “Breathe, sis. Breathe.” It’s hard to keep a calm voice with everything roiling inside of me. Rage at Grayson. Fear for Libby. Heartbreak for her tears. “You don’t have to talk about it,” I say gently, my voice shaking. “Not if you don’t want to.” She clings to me. It’s several minutes before we pull apart. We go into the elevator, and when we reach the bottom floor, Libby speaks for the first time.
“You have a room here?” she asks. There are a million questions in her eyes.
“Will booked one so we could search for you.”
“Can we go somewhere else? I don’t want to stay here.”
I put an arm around her. “Yeah, of course. Call Mom, Libs. She needs to hear your voice.”
“Okay.” She presses Mom’s name in my favorites list. As we walk across the lobby, in a tearful voice she reassures Mom that she’s okay, that she’s with me, that she’ll tell her everything later.
I pause when we cross in front of the reception desk, making eye contact with the woman who told us that Libby and Grayson weren’t here.
She pinches her lips together like before.
“Usted mentió,” I say loudly so I know she can hear me. I tilt my head toward my sister. “Ella esta a salvo, no gracias a usted.” I move to walk out, but Libby hesitates.
“She helped Grayson,” she says quietly.
“What?” I realize I snapped at Libby when she flinches, and I squeeze her hand. “What do you mean?” I ask in a gentler tone.
“Grayson paid her a bunch of money to say she hadn’t seen us if someone came looking. He made it sound so … so exciting at first. So private. Just us.” Her voice wobbles and tears fill her eyes. “I was so stupid to believe him and not you.”
“Shhh,” I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. When her breathing settles again, I hold her by the shoulders and make her look at me. “He’s conniving and practiced,Libby. He knows how to make someone feel so they trust him. You’re not stupid.” You’re just seventeen, I think.
I eye the woman at the reception desk again, and she avoids my gaze. I stalk up to the desk, ignoring the handful of people waiting to check in.
“Usted mentió,” I say again, loudly. “You lied.” English for the guests around us and the woman who’s holding up her phone. Good.
Grayson’s accomplice keeps ignoring me, but I go on anyway. “My sister is seventeen,” I snap. I hear a sharp gasp. “And you lied.” She swallows. “My mom went to school with Elia Winscott.” The woman’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. And with that we turn and walk away.
She’ll see the police come in soon and make their way to Grayson’s room. She’ll know exactly how much she screwed up.
Libby hangs up with Mom just as I finish asking the head valet to call a car for us. She hands me the phone, and I text Will to let him know the change in plans.
“Will’s not as bad as Grayson said he was, is he?” she says.
