Hey guys. How's it going? Here's the next chapter for you.

Enjoy

Chapter One: Time to Bail

October 7th, 2013 – 5:00 – 5:30 P.M.

I enter through the doors and make my way over to the front desk, my battered suitcase in hand. The dull artificial lighting flickers slightly, casting the area in a dim light. A beat up couch that has seen better days sits to my left, along with a small wooden coffee table covered in various magazines. The carpet is a checked black and white pattern, mysterious stains lining it. The peeling off-white walls are covered in an array of yellowing posters and scraps of paper.

This place could do with a paint job.

As I approach the front desk, I drop the suitcase at my feet and peer over the counter to find no-one there

Figures. An empty lobby with no-one home. Why can't my life be easy? Then again, what did I expect from this dump?

Above the front desk is an orange neon sign reading, Open.

Huh. Cute sign, pal. I guess this is where I check in. I wonder if Frank's package is here yet.

My eyes fall on a rusted bell sitting atop the desk along with a scribbled on calendar, a phone just to the left and a TV at the end of the counter to the right.

It's almost as old as the one I have.

Behind the desk are some pigeon holes for the rooms. I lean over and inspect them to see if there are any packages waiting, but it looks empty.

Maybe they haven't put it out yet.

Bored of waiting around, I tap on the bell. The short sharp ring echoes through the empty room, but there is no answer.

Chloe Price does not do well getting ignored. Try to ignore me now.

I roll my sleeve up and tap the bell furiously non-stop to get someone's attention. A door behind the desk opens with a loud creak, causing me to smirk victoriously.

No-one can ignore me. Believe me, they try, but they always fail.

A 40-something burly moustached man walks out, wearing a white top and gray pants with suspenders. His face crumples up in annoyance at the distraction, "Joyce! Hey, Joyce!" he grumbles, "I told you before. I'm busy checking out the plumbing. I'll get to the other stuff lat-" when he spots me, he pauses his brow furrowed in confusion then he sighs, "You aren't Joyce."

Not since I last checked.

"Who's Joyce?" I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity.

The man regards me with a tired glance and grunts, "Joyce is my wife. She does the cleaning and cooking in this place. She works hard to keep this place going. So do I, or at least I try. I think sometimes she forgets I only have one pair of hands."

He offers me a small smile, one that almost doesn't seem to fit his otherwise irritable aura, "Anyway, sorry about that. Name's David Madsen, and I own this joint. Welcome to Hotel Dusk."

David Madsen, huh? I have a sneaking suspicion we aren't going to get along. I don't know what it is.

He pulls out a notebook and flicks through the pages, "So, I guess you want a room, do you?"

I nod, "A room. One night."

He fumbles around for a pen, "What kind of room do you want?"

The cheaper the better.

"Cheap."

He inspects a notebook and taps his finger on one of the pages, "I've got just the room if you want to save your cash."

Sounds like my kind of room.

"Great."

He crosses his arms, "Let me tell you about another room we have available before you make your choice. How would you like to stay in something a little nicer?"

I find that hard to believe.

"You have nice rooms?" I question suspiciously.

He narrows his eyes at me, unhappy with my insinuation on the quality of his rooms, "Yeah, we do."

Oh look at me, already making friends.

He clears his throat and continues, "You're in sales, right? Door to door? On your feet all day?"

Kind of. I can't say I'm the best saleswoman in the world.

"Something like that," I reply.

"You spend all day working your ass off and no-one is biting but the dogs," he comments almost managing to sound sympathetic.

I have been almost bitten by a few dogs before. Not fun.

He smiles, but I can see it's forced as his lips twitch at the corners, "So, why don't you give yourself a little treat? One night in a nice room will make a new woman out of you!"

I bet he hasn't smiled this much in ages. It doesn't look like this place is full of people. They probably only get one guest every three years. This must be torture for him to have to act all cheery.

He leans in as if he is telling me a well-guarded secret, "I've actually got a suite free tonight. It's a rare opportunity. And I'm feeling generous, so I'll let you have it for a special price."

This guy? Generous? I don't think so. Does this guy think that I'm made of money?

I wave my hand dismissively at him, "I said cheap."

He widens his forced smile, "It will be worth it, trust me."

Does this guy ever shut up? No means no.

"Hey! You got a problem? Do I look like a gal who would stay in a suite to you?"

David gives me a long hard look then sighs, closing his eyes and folding his arms, "Alright, you don't have to yell. I got it. I'm disappointed," he mutters under his breath.

Here is the grumpy guy underneath all that fake joviality. I knew it was only a matter of time. No-one is ever nice to you unless you have money and are willing to spend it. Neither of these conditions apply to me.

He shoves a piece of paper towards me, "Fill out this registration form and then you can have your room."

As much as I would love to flip him off and walk on out there to satisfy my inner rebel, I bite my tongue and take the form. He holds out a pen my way, "Here's a pen for you. Don't go stealing it."

Oh I am so glad I can stay somewhere without being prejudiced against. It warms the heart.

I snatch the pen from him and fill out the form in my messy scrawl. I pass the form back to him, he inspects it with a thoughtful expression on his face, "…Chloe Price?" his eyes narrow skeptically at me, "Your name really Chloe Price?"

What's this guy getting at?

I nod, placing my hands behind my head, "That's what my parents told me."

He strokes his chin in thought, "Huh…"

What is this guy's problem?

"That work for you? Or would you like me to change it?"

He glances up at me, an unamused expression on his face, "Forget I said anything," he mumbles in annoyance.

Oh no. You aren't getting away that easily. Nice try, but you are talking to Chloe Price, the most stubborn person alive.

I fold my arms across my chest, unwilling to let this go until I get an answer, "What now? You don't like my name?"

David shakes his head, "Nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" I insist, "Did you see my name on a wanted poster or something?"

I hope not, but you never know.

David sighs in exasperation and growls, "If you really must know, I had a guest with the same name as you. Happy now?"

I wasn't aware my name was so popular. What are the odds that another Chloe Price would visit this dump? If they did, I bet it wasn't by choice.

"Ecstatic."

He rolls his eyes and mutters to himself, "Anyway, about your room. You're in Room 219," he holds out a key, "Here is the key."

I take it from him and inspect it closer. It has the room number and the word "Wish" engraved on it.

Wish, huh? What's all that about?

"Wish? What's that supposed to mean?" I ask curiously.

He stares at me with mild disapproval, "It's the name of the room. What else would it be?"

Alright. No need to get testy.

"The room has a name too?"

He sighs, rubbing his temples, "You a parrot or something? That's what I said. All the rooms have names. We got Wish, Bravery, Daybreak, Success… even Angel."

Is this guy real? I wouldn't have pinned him down as a man to name rooms.

I smirk, "Cute. You think those up yourself?"

His expression becomes steely, "Yeah, laugh it up."

"Seems kind of pointless to give a room a name and a number," I comment as I shove my hands in my pockets.

He grunts, "Well, you can think whatever you like. I've named the rooms and if you don't like it, then it's tough."

I think I've hit a sore spot.

I hold up my hands in defeat, "I'm just saying. No need to rip my head off."

He crosses his arms, "Figures you would say something like that. I guess that means you're not interested in the reason behind the naming of Wish then."

I do enjoy a good story, not that I reckon this guy could tell me one.

"I never said that," I protest.

He grins smugly, "Well, if you're going to beg, then I guess I can tell you."

You think whatever you like, pal.

"Just cut the crap and tell me," I demand, bored of his coyness.

He takes a deep breath, "The room you're staying in, Room 219, it has a… history."

Oh this should be good.

"What, like ghosts? You telling me it's haunted?"

He scoffs, "Ghosts ain't got nothing on this story," he leans in closer, "You got dreams? Something you wish for?"

I wish you would stop talking, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen.

"I'm not really the wishing type."

He looks me over and raises an eyebrow, "That doesn't surprise me to be honest."

Hey, what's that supposed to mean?

I open my mouth to protest, but David continues, "Regardless, if you got something you want. I mean, really want…you just might find it tonight. You follow? That's the story…. That's Room 219," he pauses dramatically, "It's where wishes are granted."

I gotta hand it to David, he's not as bad at telling stories as I first thought. I mean, it's still a load of BS, but at least it's entertaining BS.

He searches around on the desk and hands me a brochure, "I dunno why I'm helping you, but take this. There's a map in it," I take the brochure and stash it in my notebook as he lectures on, "Right, you're all set. Your rooms on the second floor. Go through the lobby and up the stairs. Room 219's down the hall on the right. Restaurant's through the lobby and to the left. It opens for dinner at 6:00 pm and breakfast's at 7:30 am. Got a bar too. Opens at 9:00 pm tonight. Checkout's at 10:00 am tomorrow. Miss it and we charge double. If you want to stay another night, let me know. That it?"

I don't know if I got any of that. Never mind. I'll work it out later. This guy has a mouth on him, I can't get a word in edgeways. I'd better check if Frank's package is here yet.

"There's supposed to be a package for me," I mention, hoping it's here so I can get on out of this dump asap.

David turns around and looks at the pigeon holes, "A package, huh? Sorry, I don't see anything."

He didn't even check properly.

"It should be here. Maybe you can actually… look."

He crosses his arms, glaring at me suspiciously, "It seems a bit odd that you would send a package to a hotel where you don't have a reservation. It had better not cause me any problems."

This guy is hella paranoid. I wish he'd get off my crack.

"What kind of problems?"

He scowls at me, "Is it anything that's going to inconvenience my hotel?"

Inconvenience? What is he going on about?

I cross my arms, a defiant expression on my face, "Depends on what you mean by 'inconvenience'."

He grunts, "Had some trouble with a package for another young gal like you. Turned into a damn circus."

Now this sounds interesting.

He shakes his head, "I don't want to have to deal with anything like that again. Let's leave it at that," he clears his throat, "I'll get the bellhop to look for your package. We'll bring it to your room when it shows up."

I'm curious about the guest with my name. I'll press him on it.

"So, you said a guest had my name?"

He nods, "Yep. Called herself Chloe Price, too."

Hmm…

David strokes his chin in contemplation, "I reckon she was about your age, blonde, hazel eyes, pretty gal as I recall, had an air of mischief about her too. She looked like she could hold her own."

That description sounds familiar.

"I wouldn't mistake you two though. She was different," he comments offhandedly.

Different?

"How so?"

He pauses for a moment deep in thought, "Wearing a nice suit, good shoes, the works. Looked like a somebody."

Ouch. No need to get personal. You're not really dressed like a winner either. Hey, I like my suit.

"I'll keep that in mind. So does Miss Somebody stay here often?"

David shakes his head, "Nope, just the one time. It was about… a month ago. Haven't seen her since."

It could have been Rachel. While I'm here, I'll have to go snooping for clues. Next thing, what's this whole wish thing about?

I lean against the desk, "So, fill me in on this whole wish-granting gig."

David moves a bit closer to me, as if he is sharing a deep dark secret, "I heard things from the guests who stay in 219. First there was a young girl. Then a middle aged fella…"

Here we go, more jabbering. Why did I even ask? Why am I still talking to this guy? Once a detective…

He takes my form and files it away, then turns back to me, "Both of them looked run down when they arrived. Like they had no future to speak of. When I saw them the next morning, they'd been reborn. They had a twinkle in their eye and they just looked… peaceful. The transformation was so drastic that I asked them what happened. And you know what they said? They both told me the same thing."

Here comes the punchline.

"'Room 219 is magic. It granted my wish. Everything is great now'," he has a serious expression on his face, "So that's why I said…"

Is this guy serious? I've had enough of this.

I chuckle at David's conviction, to which he looks annoyed, "What's so funny?"

I shake my head, almost disbelieving of this silly tale he's trying to feed me, "Nice try, but do I look like a mug to you? I didn't pin you down as someone who would tell me fairy tales."

David grunts, "A fairy tale? Is that what you think this is?"

"Come on," I smirk in amusement, "You don't expect me to believe that twaddle do you? I'm not a little kid."

He shakes his head, his jaw tightening, "You can think what you like, it's a free country."

This guy is unbelievable. Enough of this, let's get to the troublesome package.

"Talk about the trouble you mentioned earlier. What's the deal with that?"

David puts his hands on his sides, "That? Well, it was about six months ago. The bellhop brought a package to a guest's room, and then… BANG! A load of cops and detectives come storming in."

Detectives? Sounds serious. I wonder what was in the package.

His brow furrows in annoyance, "Seems that my guest was part of some big crime ring or something. She was using my hotel as a drop off for stolen goods," his hands clench into fists, "It was a damn mess! Gunshots in the hallway… screaming guests running around. I'll be damned if I ever go through anything like that again!" he looks me straight in the eyes, "That's why the Dusk's got a strict policy: No crooks… AND NO COPS!"

I guess I had better keep the fact I used to be a detective a secret then.

His face softens a bit, "You done?"

I was done about ten minutes ago. You don't half go on.

I nod in agreement, "Yeah."

He smiles at me, "Enjoy your stay."

I will now you've stopped lecturing me.

I grab my suitcase and begin to walk away from the desk to the stairs, but stop when I hear the front door creak open behind me.

Huh?

A voice calls out, "Pardon me, sir. Do you have a room available?" I turn around and see an old lady with an eyepatch, "I need a room for the night."

Just another guest. I'm digging the eyepatch. It looks hella cool.

David grins at her charmingly... or at least as much as he can, "Welcome to Hotel Dusk ma'am. You are just in luck, we got vacancies. What are you looking for, darling?"

The woman smiles, "Well now, aren't you just a sweet-talker?"

Pfft, yeah right. You should have seen him talking to me a few minutes ago. Don't be fooled.

The woman continues, "But there's a certain room I want."

David nods, grabbing the notebook again, "Which room's that?"

She tilts her head slightly to one side, "The one I saw in the newspaper article! I want that special room. The wishing room. This is Hotel Dusk, is it not?"

David nods again, "It sure is ma'am. And I know the room you're asking for. Unfortunately, that rooms…"

The woman's face falls, "Oh dear. Is it taken?"

He crosses his arms, "I'm afraid so. I'm sorry ma'am."

What's with all this ma'am business? I didn't get that. No fair.

The woman sighs dejectedly, her expression filled with disappointment, "Well, isn't that a shame!"

David flicks through the notebook, "Would you like a different room? We have plenty."

"Yes, I… I suppose I'll make do with something else," the woman agrees reluctantly. David busies himself sorting out the room for the woman.

Time to bail before that wind bag thinks of something else to lecture me about.

So, David is Dunning Smith. For the old lady, I was going to keep the original character, whose name you will find out later, but I guess it could also be the homeless woman from LIS. Maybe a mixture of the two. Seeing as how the homeless lady doesn't have a name, it'll just be the same as the original character.

Have a great day guys and see ya next time.