Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [37]
I rush outside and tell him what happened.
'Go get Will and your mum. I've got an idea.' He grins at me.
Bryce Cole drives us into the city. We pull into the driveway of a fancy hotel near Circular Quay. The concierge wears a top hat and white gloves. I ask him if he has a whole stack of them behind his desk, because no one could wear the same white gloves all day. I'm rabbiting on because normally we would have suitcases when we check into a hotel. Mine was pink, with those stickers on it from every country we've visited. I think we sold it at the second garage sale. I don't want the concierge to notice that there's only one decent bag between us – Mum's overnight bag. I've got my green shopping bag. Will hasn't brought a thing. If the concierge does notice, he doesn't say anything. He directs us to the reception desk in the lobby.
Bryce Cole checks us in to a suite. As we stand in the lift, Mum is looking a bit shell-shocked.
Our suite has three bedrooms and a view out over the Bridge. I'm not sure who's supposed to have which room, so I hang back, but we're all hanging back, until Will calls the main bedroom with the king-sized bed. Bryce Cole swiftly kicks him out of that one, so he goes for the next biggest bedroom. Mum and I plonk our stuff on two single beds in the other room.
I take out Albert Bear and lean him against the pillow.
Will checks out the mini bar. He cracks himself a beer, hands one to Bryce Cole, then flops on the lounge with his feet on the coffee table. Mum has a wine and I have a Coke.
It's dusk and the cars crossing the Bridge have their lights on, leaving a trail of red inside my eyelids when I blink. Ferries cross the harbour. Nobody says anything. All I can hear is my drink fizzing inside the can, and the low thrum of the train pulling out of the station under the Cahill Expressway below.
This is it. This is the rescue we were hoping for. I can see how living in a hotel is actually better than living in a house. You don't have to worry about all that rent in advance and electricity deposit stuff that Will was talking about, or furniture, or washing, or anything. We can just order room service for our meals. We should have done this ages ago.
Mum sighs.
'There's a spa off the master,' Bryce Cole tells her. 'How about I take the kids out while you have a bath? We'll come back in an hour or so and we can go for dinner. You can take this with you.' He hands the wine bottle to her. 'In the meantime, we'll be in that pub down there.' He points to a building in The Rocks.
'Jenna-Belle can't go in there. She's under-age,' Will says. He's under-age too, but it's my youth he seems to be worried about.
'Getting into pubs is all about attitude,' Bryce Cole says. 'Come on.' He hustles us out the door.
On the way out I ignore the concierge. It's time for me to get a handbag. It's worth the nuisance of carrying around a handbag just so I can rummage through it to avoid conspicuously ignoring people.
The pub smells like the bar at the track, a combination of old spilt beer and trough lollies. We're the only ones in here, although I can see through a corridor to another bar on the other side where a few tourists are chatting.
Bryce Cole leans against the bar. The bartender asks if I'm over eighteen. Bryce Cole looks puzzled for a moment and then answers in a very strong French accent. 'We 'ave stayed 'ere for tree days already.' Then he smiles and orders two beers and 'an 'ow you say . . . shanzy?'
The bartender asks again. Bryce Cole pretends to be confused and stares at me, as though looking for an explanation.
I'm having a brain fart. All I can remember from my French lessons is Jenna-Belle a les mamelons velus, so I say that. Bryce Cole looks startled, and then he barks out a laugh.
'Did you just say . . .?' Will begins.
'Oui!' I reply, quickly.
Will starts to laugh too.
I shrug at the bartender. He shakes his head and pours the beer.
My face is turning crimson. It didn't occur to me during