Angie is not Cary Grant

Angie took the stairs down to the lobby, pausing for a second to look at the view. Mountains, huge mountains. God damn! A tiny fountain of pleasure made noise inside her body. Was there any chance this adventure could be fun?

But Bruno was gone. She asked, "Where's Bruno?" but the sad blonde just shook her head and didn't say a word. Angie insisted: "I want to talk to Bruno, he said he was just starting his shift." The blond (nametag Betty) said "I don't know anything. I don't know any Bruno. Can I help you?"

"No, obviously not. Can I talk to your manager?" "Nope, he just left." "Do you know my sister Shayla?"

At this point the Betty became more animated, leaning forward across the rustic timbered counter, and Angie's hopes climbed, put on skis and began the ascent.

"Do I look like a family tree? Do I?"

Betty was mean. Angie smiled her widest, fiercest smile (the braces had worked), and stalked off.

She was beginning to feel like a character in a mystery, where clues appeared then disappeared. All the Bee's, and B's. Maybe she was Cary Grant in North by Northwest, seeking that character (George Kaufman) through hotel lobbies. Maybe she should read more, so her points of references weren't all TV and movie.

She found an oversized chair in the woodsy lobby. She wasn't Cary, because he was clever and extremely well-dressed and sexy in a weird dad kind of way. Maybe she should just fly home, leave Shayla to her own adventure, leave her lost in her A's, her C's, her B's.