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I shot a text to Mom and Mindy to let them know we were headed out of town again, and then switched my phone with a new burner Father Killarney provided. I'm pretty sure at this point he was buying them in bulk. Our goodbyes said, some more passionately than others, Killian and I hopped into the minivan and headed down the highway. I held the picture of the object in my mind as Killian took the wheel.
"Go right," I said, feeling the pull of the object.
"That will take us into the ocean," he pointed out.
"Okay, don't do that."
We traveled south and drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, a stretch of freeway that runs up and down the western coast. We passed the now defunct San Onofre nuclear power plant where Dad and I had once stuck an illegal portal. Nothing like a little background radiation to hide a door to an alternate universe. You know, until your illegal portal may or may not have caused the nuclear power plant to spring a leak.
But now we were on our way toward San Diego. The California landscape was open and wild. The Camp Pendleton proving grounds flanked the road. Tall, golden grasses waved across the undeveloped rolling hills. Made it easier for the Marines to practice firing their cannons.
The object pinged at me like a battleship on a submarine radar. And, I gotta say, I was pretty impressed that my tracker skills were matching up with the GPS driving instructions. Guess that if this tracker thing didn't work out, I could get a second job as a taxi driver.
After three-and-a-half hours, we left the concrete ribbon of highway and headed into the wilds of civilization. The road took us over San Diego's Mission Bay. The land around it was golf-perfect expanses of green lawns, fancy yachts, and touristy, but not gentrified, shops. Lots of mom 'n pop surf shacks and taco huts.
We turned right as we came to a small amusement park on one corner. I made a mental note to check it out sometime when Killian and I weren't running from the shadow elves. I love a wooden rollercoaster, but ain't no fun in a funhouse if the person in the mirror maze wants to make sure you never see your reflection again.
Finally, we turned right into a resort parking lot. Killian checked the GPS and, yep, both where Trovac told us to go and where I knew we ought to go matched up.
It was a completely unique hotel. The front was flanked with tiki torches burning despite it being midday. The palm trees were covered in festive but out-of-season green Christmas lights. The roofline was an a-frame made of faux bamboo and faded grass, sort of a mix of nostalgia and deferred maintenance.
And then, as if by magic, my hold on the object disappeared.
"What the absolute fuck..." I said.
Killian raised an eyebrow.
"I lost the hei-tiki," I explained, desperately reaching out with my senses. "I mean, the fucking thing brought us 112 miles, and suddenly disappeared in a poof of 'never was here'?"
Killian patted my knee bracingly as he inched the car forward to the entrance. "We shall find it."
"Unless it was being used as bait in a trap and the jaws have just closed," I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt.
There was a valet at a little bamboo stand. He trotted over in his colorful resort shirt, lei bouncing as he bounced in his sockless loafers. He opened up my door before I had a chance to shoo him away.
"Will you be staying with us?" he asked, flashing me a bright grin of sparkling capped teeth.
"Um... yeah," I said, getting out and pointing at the trunk of our minivan. "We're exhibitors... and... um...." I was stopped midsentence by a greaser guy and gal wiggling their way through the parking lot as they carried a gigantic inflatable raft in the shape of a flamingo. "I think we're probably going to need a bellman cart or something...?" I suddenly realized it was like we had stepped back in time. The parking lot was full of 1957 Chevys and muscle cars. Men with grease-backed hair were sporting Hawaiian shirts and women were dressed in 1950s halter dresses and petticoats. Everyone's hair and makeup were on point, and I'd seen fewer tattoos in a prison yard. I motioned to the crowd. "I feel a little under dressed..."
"Oh!" he said, trying to be polite as he took in my black leathers and neckguard. "No! You look great! You're rocking that Olivia Newton-John end-of-Grease look. Everyone is just getting ready to take a dip by the pool so are wearing a bit more... festive wear."
"What an absolute delight!" Killian exclaimed, admiring the rear deck of a sailor walking by. "Do they have outfits like this for sale inside? I would so like to take part in the festivities."
"Sure!" replied the valet unhelpfully. I saw nothing but drained bank accounts in my future. "You must be new!"
"First time..." I said, unable to keep the stiff smile from creeping onto my face as Killian stopped another couple to ask them where they bought their matching Carmen Miranda headgear.
The valet sighed happily. "I just love these big midcentury celebrations," he explained. He motioned to the hotel. "This place was going under. I swear, we wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for this resurgence."
"Well... that's nice..." I said.
"What are you selling?" he asked, trying to be friendly.
I so didn't need any new friends. But Killian, realizing I was on the verge of telling that valet where he could shove his nosey nose, gave me a shove in the arm. I looked back at the roady case Trovac's goat had loaded in. "Um... A little of this. A little of that."
"Keeping it under wraps?" he asked, putting his hand to the side of his mouth like we were sharing a secret.
"That's it," I replied, putting on my best movie studio PA face. "Don't want to give it away. You should come and find us later!"
"Sure thing! Wouldn't miss it!" he said. He pulled out a paper map and marked where we were going. "The ballroom is where the exhibitor hall is going to be located," he said. "Straight ahead, through the courtyard, and on your right. Do you have your paperwork?"
I scrambled through the stack Trovac had given us and found it all filled out. It made me wonder how far ahead he had planned this little escapade. Had he pulled some strings or had he consulted a psychic like my mom who had told him to reserve a table back when the early bird exhibitor rates were low?
However Trovac managed it, everything was in order. The valet noted our table number and nodded. "We'll take your exhibitor items there while you get checked in." He snapped his fingers and another valet came jogging forward, ready to haul away our stuff. Even if Trovac's planning was giving me the heebie-jeebies, I appreciated the door-to-floor service.
I muttered to Killian under my breath. "Any idea what we're selling?"
"I thought you checked the cases."
"I thought you checked."
"Well, let us hope it is something appropriate."
I handed the valet the keys to the car. Figured if Trovac was paying, I had no reason to be stingy with our expense account.
We walked into the lobby, and gotta say, it was pretty schwank. There was a two-story waterfall that tumbled down faux volcanic rocks and ended in a koi-filled stream that went from inside to outside and wound around the building. There were ferns and exotic flowers tucked into vases and planters. The check-in desk was papered in woven grass and manned by two cheerful people in flowered shirts. Hanging on the walls of the lobby were all sorts of Pacific Island artifacts and historic black-and-white pictures. There was even an outrigger canoe suspended from the ceiling.
The desk clerks handed us our keys and we traipsed up a floating wooden staircase to our room on the second floor. The theme-ing calmed down a bit. There was some sort of teak carved television case and a couple of Polynesian inspired lamps, but the rest was standard hotel stuff.
"Well, I guess we ought to get dressed and get down to the selling room floor," I said, throwing the bag that said "Maggie Uniform" on to the bed and opening it up.
And then I saw what was inside.
"Oh hell no," I stated for the record.
Killian, fingers still on the zipper of his suitcase, looked over in concern. "What is it, Maggie?"
I pulled out a floral, halter, wiggle dress in seizure-inducing magenta and a headband covered in plastic orchids, fake ferns, and a dancing hula girl. You know. The type that sits on a dashboard. Except Trovac was expecting me to wear it ON MY HEAD.
"The fuck was he thinking??" I whispered.
Killian just about fell over laughing.
"Can it, elf, or I will end you."
He wiped away the tears. "Oh, now... Maggie. It really is attractive," he stated, fingering the polyester for quality. "The color is quite flattering."
Listen, what goes around comes around so I turned to Killian and said, "You think you're getting out of this unscathed? What about you? What outfit did Trovac pick for you?"
Excited, Killian opened the second suitcase. But then his face fell like a kid who gets socks on Christmas morning. He pulled out a safari costume and pith helmet. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the khaki. "Oh. I had been hoping for something a little more... striking."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Oh man... Trovac hates us hard..."
"Do you think he is enacting some sort of revenge?" Killian asked seriously.
"Absolutely."
"It is the same color of the wall paint," he observed, holding up his outfit to show they matched.
"I did not know evil like this could exist in this world," I replied.