“Lourdes collects the leftovers,” Joshua explains to me. “Clothes, magazines, pills—she’s her own mini-mart. It’s how we stay current around here.”
“You’ll always be a cad, Joshua,” Tanya says. “No amount of culture will change that.” She glares at Casey, and the girl shrinks away, obviously intimidated. Warren shoots Tanya a pointed look, and sits next to Casey.
Joshua puts his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded,” he tells Tanya mockingly. “Kiss it and make it better.” He flashes a devilish grin, but Lourdes takes my arm to help me up before I see if Tanya accepted his offer.
I don’t really want a muscle relaxer. I’ve tried them, tried everything in the medicine cabinet after my mother died. Muscle relaxers just put me to sleep. And I don’t want to sleep. I want to find Elias, and kiss him. I put my fingers over my lips, holding back the wild laugh that wants to escape. This is so not like me. Or . . . maybe it is. I’ll go with Lourdes to get the medication, but after that I’m going straight to the front desk. And I’m asking for my invitation to the ballroom party.
The elevator whines as it lowers us deeper into the hotel. Lourdes is standing near the gate, and now that we’re alone, I can finally find out exactly what my brother has gotten himself into with his latest bad decision. “Can I ask you something?”
Lourdes looks over her shoulder at me, biting down on her lip like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Of course.”
“What’s the deal with Catherine?” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
“I was wondering when you were going to ask about her,” she says, resting her shoulder against the wall. “I noticed you flinched every time her name was mentioned.”
“I did?” I’m mortified that I’m so easy to read.
“You don’t have to worry about Eli,” she says simply. “They’ve been over for a long time.” Despite her reassurance, the comment has the opposite effect. I suspected they’d had a relationship, but I kind of liked avoiding thinking about it. My stomach sinks, and I wonder what Lourdes’s idea of “a long time” is.
“And Joshua?” I ask, worried for Daniel. “Is she dating him now?”
“Catherine never dates anybody,” Lourdes says. “At least not long-term. Not since Eli.”
Oh, this keeps getting better and better. Rather than ask Lourdes for the details, I decide to wait to ask Elias himself. No sense dragging Lourdes into this and furthering my humiliation. If I had any sense at all, I’d walk away from this summer-camp romance with Elias. But having any emotion beyond grief is too enticing. I checked my logic at the door of the Ruby. The elevator shudders to a stop.
“My brother’s been hooking up with Catherine,” I say simply. “I’m guessing he should stop that?”
“Definitely.” Lourdes pulls the gate to the side with a clang. I don’t ask anything else about Catherine because the fact that my brother is kissing the ex-girlfriend of the guy I’m almost kissing is gross enough for me to tell Daniel to knock it off.
“Sorry to bring you here again,” Lourdes says. “I’ve recently been relocated to the basement.” Beyond her the hallway is dimly lit, depressing and lonely.
“Why were you moved? Was it part of your suspension?” I ask. I can’t believe she has to live in the basement. It’s cold and there aren’t even any windows.
“Pretty much. I suck at following the house rules,” she says with a smile. Lourdes walks out of the elevator, and I have to jog to keep pace. The gray hallway ends, splitting off in two directions. She takes a right, and the tiles are replaced by dark carpet, red walls.
“So what do you think of the Ruby so far?” Lourdes asks, and stops to motion around us. “It’s beautiful, right?”
“Sure,” I say. “And your creepy story aside, I think it’s kind of fun. My dad seems better. Dinner ended with me in tears, but that’s not exactly news.” I slow as a sense of guilt wraps around me. Can I really blame my dad for his comment about my reckless behavior? Isn’t it my fault that we’re here in the first place?
Lourdes turns, her eyebrows pulled together. I wave off her concern. “It’s fine,” I say. “He hasn’t really been himself the last couple of months. I don’t think any of us have.”
“What happened?” She shifts uncomfortably. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“My mother died three months ago.” The words come out automatically and I hate them. I hate how easy they’ve become to say. “My father couldn’t handle the grief—none of us could.” Lourdes makes a sympathetic sound and puts her hand on my arm. Her fingers are cold; the touch reminds me of my mother. Sets me at ease.