a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses. “There’s our Dave,” Cleo said quietly. “Let’s get closer. Grab the key.”
Devon grabbed the key card and they carefully and silently closed their room door. Staying close to the walls, Cleo made it half way around the courtyard and ducked behind an ice machine. From here they could watch as Eric opened his hotel room. Except, it was Grant instead that opened the door up for Dave. Devon noticed his white LAX hat immediately.
“I didn’t order this,” Grant said.
They couldn’t hear Dave’s explanation, but it seemed to suffice. Grant took the bottle and glasses and let the door close on Dave.
“It’s room 1705,” Devon said. “Should we go knock and confront them?”
“Jeez, you have as much subtlety as hoop earrings. Now that we’ve got their room number, we get into position.”
“Position?”
“Spying position. You really think I find out this much dirt about people by sitting out in the open?” Cleo rolled her eyes and led Devon to the other side of the building.
With the ocean at their backs, Devon and Cleo had a full view inside each hotel room. Some had curtains drawn, others empty, but Grant’s white hat made him easy to spot. Luckily he had left the curtains open. Devon ducked below a patio table, and Cleo lay next to her in the manicured grass. The wind whipped at their hair as the waves crashed behind them. Goosebumps rose on Devon’s arms.
“I’m going to watch the front. Stay here,” Cleo yelled into the wind.
Devon lay flat in an attempt to streamline her body against the wind. There was Grant, lit up by the yellow glow of the floor lamp. Grant handed the bottle to someone sitting on a red couch. Someone who wasn’t Eric Hutchins. Devon squinted and pulled herself forward a few feet to be sure. It was Raj. What was he doing here?
Both of them suddenly looked toward the door in their room. Was someone knocking? Devon darted from below the picnic table behind a tree to better see the entrance to their room. Eric Hutchins, holding a six-pack of Gersbach beer. He extended his arm to Grant, who took the beers. Grant opened up toward the room, like he was inviting Eric inside farther, but Eric declined. He and Grant did a brief handshake/high five combo move. Grant closed the door.
Devon had to see where Eric was going; she could always come back to spying on Grant’s room. She raced across the lawn toward the courtyard and ducked behind the ice machine again. Eric walked to his car and opened the passenger door. He extended a hand, and Maya stepped out in a short dress and five-inch heels. Definitely a far cry from her usual business wardrobe. She kissed Eric on the lips. Not a quick kiss, not a peck, but a hands-around-the-neck, lips-smashed-together act of pure passion. Devon’s jaw hung open. She watched as they slipped into room 1707, next door to where Grant and Raj were drinking their beers and expensive Merlot.
Devon dashed back to the suite. Cleo was changing clothes and holding an oversized towel for Devon.
“I was just going to bring this to you,” she said.
“Maya is here. With Eric.” Devon said. She sat on the bed and picked at a nearby plate of truffle oil coated French fries.
“You mean with Eric, or with Eric?” Cleo asked. She sat on the couch and waited for Devon’s answer.
“I think with with Eric. They’re together now.” She shook her head. “Amazing. After Hutch, she moved onto his brother.”
ONCE DEVON BROUGHT CLEO up to speed on Maya’s pregnancy, and after Cleo had banged her hands on the couch yelling “Merde!” at least a dozen times, they came up with an idea. It was imperative they get Maya alone. Calling or texting was too risky; her cell phone could easily fall into Eric’s hands.
Cleo made the call. “Excuse me for bothering you, Mr. Hutchins,” she said, lowering her voice, sounding as professional and grown-up as possible. “We need to request that your car be moved to another parking spot. Why? A Premier Guest spot just opened up for you near the front entrance. Thank you so much.” She hung up.
“Premier Guest spot?” Devon’s mouth was stuck in a perma-grin.
“If there’s one thing I know, it’s rich people.” Out their door they saw Eric step out of his room, car keys in hand. “You’re up,” Cleo said with a pat of Devon’s back.