Page 2 of Better Than the Beach
I elbow my way back to the bar so I can return the list of numbers, and the bartender must be able to tell I’ve had no luck from the look of defeat on my face, because she cringes.
“Nothing, huh?”
“Nope. No vacancies in all of Denver, it seems.”
That’s a bit of an exaggeration. There are probably vacancies somewhere, but none of the accessible hotels have them.
“Thanks for your help, though.” I slide back onto my barstool, grateful that she kept it open for me, and order another beer.
“So, what’s your plan now?” she asks as she slides me the pint, and I shrug and take a sip before answering.
“Guess I camp out on the airport floor for a while. I got a text while I was calling around that the airline is unloading bags, but I didn’t check luggage. Got everything I need in my carry-ons.”
She nods. “Smart. I always try not to check luggage.”
“Same. I only packed sundresses and bikinis,” I laugh, and then side-eye the snow. “They don’t take up much space.”
“So, the only warm clothes you have are the ones on your body?”
“Yup,” I pop the p, then mentally check through my outfit. Old Navy leggings, a BU sweatshirt, beat-up Uggs, and a North Face shell. “Damn, I’msonot prepared for the Snowpocalypse.”
She surveys me again while mixing a Bloody Mary. I watch her pull a pre-made garnish toothpick thingy from a cooler and stab it into the drink, then she walks away to drop it off. When she comes back, she sticks out her hand, and I raise a brow at her.
“Hi,” she says with a smile. “My name’s Mallory Evans. You can call me Mal.”
I smile back and shake her hand. “I’m Cassandra Larsen. Call me Cassie.”
“Perfect.” She beams. “Now we’re friends. I’m off in an hour. You want to come with me?”
I blink and let out a little laugh.
“Like, to your house?”
“Well, no.” She snorts. “Unless you want to sleep on the world’s smallest couch in the studio apartment I share with my husband and giant ass dog.” She widens her eyes for emphasis. “But my nan owns a small Bed and Breakfast in Golden. It’s technically not open right now because she closes for the holidays, but she won’t care. You’ll have your own room, and it’s a shared bathroom, but she won’t have any other guests, so it will essentially be yours. And she’s a great cook, and fucking hilarious, and it will sure as shit beat sleeping on the airport floor for the next few days.”
For the first time in a few hours, I feel the fist of anxiety loosen in my chest.
“How much does she charge?”
Mallory shrugs. “I don’t actually know, but it won’t be any more than the hotels in the area. What do you say?”
“You sure she’ll be okay with it?”
“Positive,” she says with a smile. “And you’ll love her. Might even decide to stay here through New Year’s instead of heading to the islands,” she adds with a wink, and I roll my eyes with a laugh.
“Doubtful,” I say, “but yeah, that sounds good. Great, even. Thank you.”
“Of course. Let me finish up and then we’ll head out.”
While Mallory closes out tabs, I open back up the airline app on my phone and turn on notifications for all flights. As soon as the planes can start flying out again, I’ll be on the next one to LAX. Until then, I guess I’ll be hanging out with Mallory’s nan in her B&B, trading cocktails and the ocean for cocoa and snow.
I shoot an update to the group text, letting my sorority sisters know what’s up. I get back a bunch of pictures of the bitches on the beach and I scowl at my phone.Stupid snow.
I close out of the group chat, take a deep breath, and give my mom a call. She answers on the first ring.
“I’ve been watching the news,” she says by way of greeting. “All the flights are grounded? Goodness, Cassandra, what are you going to do?”
“It’s okay, Mom. I actually found a Bed and Breakfast to stay at. I can wait out the storm there. It’s supposed to get worse, so it’ll likely be a few days before I can leave.”
