The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(16)

“What do you mean, a backup card?”

“Everybody knows that when you travel you have to have a second card you don’t use in case this kind of thing happens.”

Damn it, I specifically didn’t do this so I couldn’t have spare cash. I didn’t want to have a slush fund.

You idiot.

“Everybody but me!” I cry. This is the literal day from hell.

“I’ve canceled the card and ordered you a new one. Where do you want it sent to?”

I stare up at the hostel. I don’t even know the address. “I’ll have to call you back with an address.” I sigh, utterly dejected.

“That’s okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Mr. Miles . . .”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good thing you weren’t hurt in the robbery, sir. A lot of travelers aren’t so lucky. Possessions can always be replaced.”

I stare into the darkness. “Yes, you’re right.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night.” I hang up and look around in the darkness.

It’s quiet and still. The sound of laughter can be heard in the distance.

I feel stupid, and so alone.

What am I supposed to do now? Call my brothers so they can bail me out on my first fucking day away?

And tell them that they were right, that I really can’t cut it without my family’s money. That I’m a big fat failure.

No way in hell!

I’ll starve before I ask them for a cent.

“You all right?” someone asks from behind me. I turn to see a boy. He’s young and struggling to carry two large garbage bags full of trash.

“Yeah.” I exhale heavily.

He walks over and unlocks a large bin and climbs up and throws the trash in and relocks the industrial bin.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I’m on close.”

“Close?”

“I work behind the bar.”

“Behind the bar?” I screw up my face. “Aren’t you like twelve?”

“Fourteen.”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“I don’t go to school.”

I stare at him. He has black curly hair and is of Spanish descent. He looks so young, but he has an old-soul feel about him.

“Why not?”

“I support my household.”

“At fourteen?”

“Yep.” He smiles with a shrug. “You coming back in?”

“Nah . . .” I keep sitting on my step.

He lingers. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

I exhale heavily. “Have you ever felt like a complete failure?”

“Nope.”

I look up at him, surprised. “Not once?”

“Nope.” He shrugs. “I know where I’m going. I got this shit.”

His optimism is contagious, and I smile too. “I bet you do.” I look back out over the street. “My card got stolen, and now I have no money, and I really don’t want to call home and ask them to bail me out.”

“Oh,” he says. “Who took your card?”

“A gorilla.”

“A what?”

“A woman with a gigantic amount of pubic hair.”

His lip curls in disgust. “Ew.”

I widen my eyes. “I hear you.”

“So don’t call home,” he says. “Sort it out yourself.”

I look back over my shoulder at him. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Get a job.”

I frown. “A job?”

“Yeah.”

“Where would I work?” I ask him.

“Anywhere.”

Hmm . . .

“Anyway, I’ve got to go clean the oven.”

I stare at him; this kid is fourteen years old, and he’s cleaning an oven at midnight.

“You’re all right, kid.” I smile. “What’s your name?”

“Eduardo.”

“I’m Christopher.” Oh crap, I told him my real name. “Everyone calls me Christo,” I correct myself.

“Night,” he says as he disappears back inside.

“Good night.”

I drag myself inside and get my tiny towel from my locker and take a shower.

The water pressure is shit and barely hot, and who knew drying yourself with a washcloth could be so unsatisfying?

The hostel is nearly deserted. Everyone is out for the night.

I walk into my bedroom and climb into my bottom bunk bed. I’m six feet three; my head and feet both touch the ends. I plug my phone in to charge and lie alone in the darkness. The rest of my roommates are still out partying. I wonder what time they’ll be back.

I can hear doors banging in the distance and people talking. Strange smells, and this bed is fucking uncomfortable. And what thread count are these sheets? They’re so rough I’ll be exfoliated to the bone.

I roll over and punch my pancake pillow as I try to get comfortable.

Worst bed ever.

I sigh, defeated.

Not a great first day . . . pretty fucking shit, actually.

After what feels like forever, I drift into an exhausted sleep.