A week later, the remote died in the middle of a show I was watching. I went to Troy's desk to search for batteries.
I opened the drawer and found a neat stack of hotel receipts tucked under some old mail.
Now, Troy did travel to California sometimes, so I wasn't concerned until I saw that the hotel was in Massachusetts.
Every receipt was for the same hotel, same room number… the dates went back months.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at them until my hands went numb.
Every receipt was for the same hotel.
I kept trying to think of logical reasons for him to be traveling to Massachusetts, and I kept coming up empty.
I counted them. Eleven receipts. Eleven trips he'd lied about.
My chest felt tight. My hands shook as I entered the hotel's number into my phone.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"
“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice steady. I gave her Troy's full name and explained that I was his new assistant. “I need to book his usual room.”
I entered the hotel's number into my phone.
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