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Confusion marred his features. “Neuro, what?”
She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t have time to explain the science of brain development, and she needed this guy on her side. “Listen, Mr. Bellhop, sir, I can’t afford to pay fifty bucks to park my car, and I have to teach this lesson.” She peered in her rearview mirror and spied several vehicles parked in the center of the hotel’s elaborate roundabout entry. “There are plenty of cars parked here. Why should I have to move?”
He snickered. “Yeah, lady, we’ve got Maseratis, Lamborghinis, and McLarens, not brown Volvo station wagons from the dawn of time.”
Harper gasped.
How dare he insult Carol!
Yeah, she’d named her car.
“This Volvo wagon is not from the dawn of time. It’s only twenty-six years old.”
She was the same age as the Volvo her grandmother had passed down to her, and they’d been together forever. Carol was more of a peer than a machine.
Now, was Carol the Volvo the sexiest car?
God, no!
The minute she could afford to trade Carol in, she’d drop the turd-on-wheels in a hot second.
Sorry, Carol.
But she couldn’t think about a new car at a moment like this.
She had to focus on bringing her A game.
The organizers of a contest called The Next Hot Online Performer had reached out to her a few weeks ago and invited Bonbon Barbie to the Luxe Grandiose to, in their words, show them what made her hot and demonstrate how she got her viewers panting for more. The whole panting-for-more part was a little weird, but the offer was a godsend. It came with a considerable cash prize and the promise to be featured on multiple platforms with a robust advertising push.
And robust advertising meant more eyeballs on her and more views and subscribers.
That was the key to making it big as an online personality and how she’d pay off her grandmother’s debt.
But first, she had to convince the bellhop to give her a break.
“Can you help a gal out? I’m begging. I need the hotel’s Wi-Fi to finish my class, then I’ll go inside the hotel and audition for this job. I’m sure that after they meet me, they’ll hire me on the spot and be more than happy to pay for parking and put me up for the night,” she blathered, praying that the word salad she’d spewed would become a reality.
In her heart of hearts, she had no idea what would happen once she stepped inside that hotel. Still, she had a feeling that her life was about to change—a tingling sensation telling her she was approaching a crossroads.
Whatever happened in the next few hours, there was no going back to the old Harper.
For real.
She’d most likely be down a kidney if this didn’t pan out.
The bellhop removed the pack of smokes from his pocket and slipped a cigarette between his lips. “I’m going on break. I’ll tell the doormen and the other bellhops to let you park here. But if the hotel manager catches sight of you, you’re on your own. He’ll have your car towed. That man doesn’t play around. They run a tight ship here at the Luxe.”
Sweet success! Score a point for Bonbon Barbie.
“Thank you,” she gushed as the bellman disappeared around the corner with a trail of smoke in his wake.
He might be on break, but she had to get to work.
Her appointment with the Next Hot Performer people was in less than fifteen minutes.
She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror and stared at herself. Peering out of the dark feathery expanse, her eyes were a barometer into her psyche. Blue, brown, and gray with flecks of green and gold, it was as if her eye color changed with her mood. And her mood was currently a mix of adrenaline-infused exhilaration combined with a helping of hope. She exhaled a slow breath. She had to pull it together and finish the lesson.
Going back into instructor mode, she checked the number of viewers at the bottom of the screen.
