My hotel room should have been quiet, but it wasn’t. Instead, Gabriel was ranting about bad customer service. He and I had returned to our rooms before the others. His intention had been to take a shower. However, he’d shown up at my door in a bathrobe with an attitude, insisting to check my shampoo bottle. His had separated and he was convinced I understood the chemical makeup of shampoo well enough to tell him why it had separated, so that he would have that information when he confronted the front desk attendant about the shitty shampoo.
Unfortunately, aside from being incredibly old, I couldn’t think of a reason that shampoo would separate. This was worse for me than for him. Since I didn’t have an answer, he was intent on complaining to me. I had already told him to just take my shampoo, but that wasn’t the solution he was looking for.
I grabbed a Mountain Dew off the dresser. It was going to be a long night. I laid the rest of the six-pack on their side on the floor.
It failed to fizz properly when I unscrewed the cap. There was only a small hiss and a few bubbles that floated to the top. It also smelled very sweet.
“Maybe it is something in South Dakota,” I suggested, getting up and pouring the bottle down the sink. “Maybe the weather or since the population of the state is lower than that of Kansas City, things have a tendency to sit around and go bad.” I pulled another soda from the six-pack and got the same result. I attempted to drink it, but the smell of the syrup was so thick, it made me want to gag before I could get it to my lips. I looked at the rest of the six-pack. If two of them had done that, there was a good chance the entire pack was bad. Judging by the smell, there was too much syrup and not enough carbonation in the bottles. I took them all to the bathroom sink. I also grabbed Gabriel’s shampoo. If it were down the drain, he’d have to stop whining about it.
He followed me into the tight space. His hands reached for the shampoo. I uncapped it. It stank like over ripe fruit and rotting fats.
“That’s appalling,” Gabriel recapped the bottle. “I’m taking it to the front desk.”
“Fine, you do that. On your way back, grab me a soda. These are bad,” I told him, uncapping another bottle that refused to fizz correctly.
“I didn’t know soda went bad,” Gabriel said.
“Yep, if you leave it in an area where it gets hot and then cold repeatedly, it starts to taste like dirt. Sometimes, the bottling company, when they get low on carbonation, fail to realize it, and the soda ends up too syrupy. The smell alone is enough to keep a person from drinking it.” I demonstrated by pouring out another bottle. “Since I am now soda-less and you’re shampoo-less, maybe we’ll go downstairs together. Xavier and Lucas are going to need extra soap and shampoo anyway. Do you intend to go in your bathrobe and socks?”
“Yes,” Gabriel huffed. As far as fashion statements went, it wasn’t a good one. Gabriel was a redhead. He didn’t tan, so he didn’t expose much of his body to the sun. His legs were so white that they nearly glowed in the dark. The illusion was not helped by the fact that his leg hair was ginger colored. The combination created a nimbus effect around his legs, which were visible as he stomped towards the elevator.
“Do not be a jerk because of shampoo,” I whispered as we exited the elevator. “Save it for something more meaningful.”
“You’re giving me advice about being Zen?” Gabriel smiled. I smiled back and went to the vending machine. He was very nice to the front desk woman, who was more than willing to trade out his bottle of shampoo and kept apologizing. We used to travel with our own supplies, but then there had been a huge accident on the plane and it had made a terrible mess, as five bottles of shampoo and five bottles of conditioner exploded in a cloth duffle bag.
Gabriel waited for me as I grabbed six sodas from the machine and then went to the front desk to get extra supplies for Lucas and Xavier. We headed back upstairs. It was unusual for us not to be in a block of rooms. Lucas and Xavier were three doors down from me on the opposite side. Fiona was next to them. Gabriel and I had two rooms separating us. Our side seemed to contain smoking rooms. I thought that Fiona technically required a smoking room since she burned incense all the time, but it appeared that in the hotel handbooks, incense burning, while frowned upon, wasn’t as dangerous as smoking.
We let ourselves into the guys’ room. I put the extra bottles on their sink and extra towels on the toilet lid. They’d be sure to find them there. A young woman was opening the door to the room next to mine. She smiled, which faltered a little when she saw Gabriel’s legs. I couldn’t blame her. Before I had gotten my key card in the lock, she was gone.
Gabriel followed me back into my room.
“Um, what are you doing?”
“My room feels weird,” he said.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know, just weird. I’m not sure I can explain it. Have you ever just had the feeling that your room isn’t right?”
“I have it now.”
“I’m not talking about right now. I’m in here in a bathrobe. Of course you feel that way. I meant in general.”
“No, seriously, something is different about the room that wasn’t different before.” I began scanning the room. Nothing looked out of place. I took two steps into the room and noticed them. Miniscule dark spots on the carpet near the dresser, right where I had put my six-pack. I walked over to them, grabbed a tissue, and dropped it on top of the dark spots. It absorbed a tiny amount of liquid. “Oh hell, tell me I didn’t pour out all those bottles?”
“There are two left,” Gabriel stepped inside the bathroom.
“We may have a giant problem,” I joined him. I set one bottle back against the wall. With the second bottle in hand, I gently twisted the cap until the hiss of carbonation could be heard, then wrapped it in a tissue and turned it on its side. We both waited. A wet spot appeared on the napkin.
“Tell me that bottle isn’t leaking,” Gabriel said.
“I think they all were,” I answered, righting the bottle. “And that is a very small hole, microscopic almost. Where is your Pepsi?”
“Where it always is,” Gabriel answered. He kept it in the tank of his toilet, because he said it made it cold. “The water isn’t brown.”
“Harder to put a syringe in a can.” I shrugged. “But you might get it anyway.”
“Shit! I do not want to issue a tamper warning for South Dakota.” He skulked out of my room. I stared at the bottles. The liquid inside gave up no secrets, but I was betting that belladonna once extracted and concentrated was clear, especially if it wasn’t coming from the dark blue berries.
“We should get a team here to take these away!” I shouted. My room door was standing open, but I wasn’t sure if Gabriel had heard me. I’d tell him when he returned. In the meantime, I grabbed one of the new bottles from the machine and did the same thing. Nothing leaked. I finished uncapping it and took a drink. It smelled and tasted fine.
“They’re on their way,” Gabriel told me. “Are you sure nothing in your room has been disturbed?”
“Yeah, just the wet spots on the floor,” I answered.
“Are you drinking that?” He suddenly looked horrified.
“It is one of the bottles from the machine. Do you know how hard it is to tamper with them? They lay on their side all the time they are in the machine, plus they fall, which shakes them up. If they were poisoned, we would know it before we opened it. They would leak some of their contents out.”
“I’m gonna take your word for it, but if you die from poisoning, that will make me very cranky.”
“Me too.” I dug my phone out. “However, I think I have a solution for you.”
When you get here, Gabriel is convinced his room is full of bad juju. Needs a cleansing. Just found soda that might have been tampered with in my room, most likely at the store. Tell Lucas.
“Did you just text Fiona?”
“Bad juju in your room. She can get it out. Probably left by an angry maid.”
OMG! Don’t drink it! Was the response I got back.
Yeah, did not figure it would be one of the smarter lifestyle choices if I did, I responded.