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His head snaps to me. “I’d like to see you try,” he slurs.
Then, he hiccups.
“Tomorrow. I’d like to see you try tomorrow,” he wisely adds.
“Come on, killer. Put one foot in front of the other, please,” Clay requests.
When they get him on the porch, Clay gives Joanna the code to open their door.
I follow as Morris and Clay dump Scooter on the couch.
“I’ll get you a pillow and blanket,” Clay says.
Scooter starts pulling off clothing. Joanna squeals and runs out the door, and I follow her.
We see a light blinking in the parking area.
“What is that?” Joanna asks.
It goes off again, and I realize what it is.
A fucking camera flash.
“Come on, guys. It’s late. Haven’t you gotten enough photos?” I call to them.
They continue to snap away.
Morris comes out the door and stomps down the steps and toward the lights.
I try to stop him, but he’s in the parking area before I can speak.
“This is private property. You can take pictures all you like on the other side of the hotel, but not back here.”
The men with the cameras start backing up as he gets closer.
“Don’t touch them or their cameras,” I warn.
He pulls his phone from his back pocket and brings it to his ear.
“You guys have five minutes to get out of here before the squad car arrives, ten if you’re lucky.”
They finally give in and head back to the front of the resort.
Morris returns to the porch.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say as I pick up the two mugs of cooling cocoa.
“Make sure you lock the door behind you in case those assholes decide to come back,” Morris commands.
“I always do. See you tomorrow, but not too early. I think I’m gonna sleep in.”
I shut and lock the door, place the mugs in the sink, and head to bed.
Zoey
The first full week on the slopes goes smoothly. The instructors’ schedules are full, the guests enjoy themselves, and the tips are good.
The team is so busy that they skip any nighttime activities and instead go to bed without me having to say a word.
