Page 3 of Jingle Bell Jilt
I push back the tears that threaten to fall. I can’t lose my crap yet. I’m so close to the finish line, I can taste it. Or maybe I’m just anticipating the chocolate peanut butter ice cream.
I’ve never rented a car by myself. Nathan travels quite a bit, so for him it’s old hat. I had voiced my concern, but he said it was no problem.We’ll have a reservation, Babe.All we do when we get there is pick a car, scan it into our app, and drive away.
The blood drains from my face. The app. I don’t have the app. And even if I download it now, there’s no way I can log into Nathan’s account to get the reservation.
The rental car was the only thing he’d put on his credit card, and he’d probably already canceled the reservation. Why hadn’t I thought about that before I hopped on the plane? I stop and shake my fist at the sky. Curse you, Universe!
I move to the little booth thing that has the name of the rental car company Nathan booked with. A guy with long stringy hair and a ring pierced between his nostrils looks up as I approach. He can’t be older than twenty. “You just open your app and scan the QR code that’s in the car.”
I flick a glance at him. “Uh, here’s the thing. I don’t have the app.”
He stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “If you don’t have the app, just download it. You’ll just have to log into the account you created on your computer when you booked the reservation.” He thinks I’m an idiot—it’s written all over his face—and I’m not sure I disagree with him.
I smile awkwardly again. “Uh, I didn’t book the reservation. My fianc—” I clear my throat. “Someone else booked it, but then they weren’t able to come.”
He blinks at me once. Twice. Three times. “Can you just call them and get the login info for the app?” He looks at me like this is the obvious choice.
My head shakes. “Nope. I can’t reach him.” He stares blankly at me so I keep talking. “I mean, I tried, but there was no answer,” I lie.
The guy rolls his eyes like he’s mad I’m actually making him work.
I would just download the app and try to log in. I think I know what Nathan’s username would be—TooCool9499. Yeah, it should have been another red flag. But his password? His are all ridiculously long and there’s no rhyme or reason to what he capitalizes and which special character he uses. I have a better chance of picking all the winning lottery numbers correctly. And as I’m not a millionaire, you can guess my odds of logging in.
“So you don’t have a reservation?” Car Reservation Guy asks in irritation.
I lift my shoulders in a sorry-but-no kind of way. “Can you just look up the reservation on the computer?”
He stares at me, his head shaking, his mouth set in an I-don’t-trust-you look.
I give him a wide-eyed look. “Then it looks like I don’t have a reservation.” I try to sound perky and lighthearted. But I don’t pull it off.
He types something into the computer and looks at the rows of cars behind him. “The only thing we have is a couple extra large cars. Like that Denali over there.” He nods with his head.
“A suburban? Are you kidding me?” Dang Nathan. He must have canceled the reservation. “Don’t I need my commercial driver’s license to drive one of those things?” My eyes plead with him. Surely he is only saying this to prove a point to me. I get it, friend. Next time I’ll make a reservation. But please, just give me a compact this time. I mean really, I drive a MINI Cooper. How am I supposed to maneuver a Denali XL?
There’s no humor in his face, just annoyance. “It’s Christmas Eve Eve, lady. What do you expect? You’re lucky we even have the Denali.”
I just stare at him. He’s really holding firm to this ruse. What if I say no? What will he do? What willIdo? How much will it cost to just Uber for the whole week? “Do you know if any of the other places have a compact?”
His eyes roll even harder than the last time. Like he purposely slows the roll down so he can make a complete loop around the eye socket. Point taken. He’s annoyed with me. But I don’t care. I just want a nice little car so I can be on my way. Where’s his Christmas spirit?
He picks up the phone and pushes some numbers. “Hey, Reggie, it’s Devon over here at American Rental. Do you have any compacts available?”
I can hear a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. But I got a lady here who didn’t make a reservation and now she wants me to call all over the airport trying to find her a car.”
American Rentals could use a refresher course on customer service for their employees. Perhaps I’ll send an email and suggest it to them…After I’ve had a carton of ice cream and slept for a few days.
“Do you know if any of the others have any compacts left?” He flicks his annoyed gaze at me. I return it with a snarky, overly-wide smile.
“Alright. Can’t say I’m surprised. Thanks for checking, bro.”
I so could have predicted he’d be a bro guy.
He hangs up and looks at me. “No compacts, ma’am.” I am twenty-freakin-eight and he’s calling me ‘ma’am.’
I kind of want to snatch that ring from between his nostrils and throw it at him.
“So, do you want the Denali or not, ma’am?”
