The Tip

Knock, knock, knock.

“Housekeeping.”

The maid rapped three times on the door and swiped her pass key over the sensor as she announced her presence in a practiced but cheerful voice. She gently pushed open the door with her right hand and grabbed her tote of cleaning supplies off the cart with her left hand in one fluid motion born of repetition. Her eyes scanned the dark room as she entered and a small, but audible sigh of relief escaped her lips as she realized that room 602 was currently unoccupied. The thought of one more creepy old man leering at her while she cleaned up after him, or worse another “couple” giggling away under the covers as she sifted through their empty beer bottles and Chinese takeout containers… Ugh. She was just happy to find herself alone to do her thankless job in peace, even if there was no tip.

She turned in to the open bathroom and flicked on the light. The bathroom was actually as clean as she had left it the previous day; surprising. Not only clean, it appeared to be unused. The neatly folded corner of the toilet paper hung unmolested, and the diminutive travel toiletries were still wrapped up neatly in a washcloth near the sink where she had placed them yesterday. Odd. She sprayed the large vanity mirror with glass cleaner anyway and wiped absent-mindedly. Then she looked at her reflection critically. She tightened her ponytail with a tug, smoothed her apron, and straightened her nametag.

DOLORES

It read in faded gold block letters.

“Dolly, you look like an angel.”

She said wryly and flicked the light switch back to the OFF position heading back into the empty hotel room.

She noticed the bed was rumpled, but not turned down - not slept in. It was like someone had lain on top of the covers, guests did that sometimes, just slept on top of the whole thing afraid of the contaminates below the surface or maybe bed bugs… who knew? People were so strange. Maybe the guest in room 602 had just found somewhere more interesting to sleep last night, yeah, maybe they had gotten lucky Dolores thought with a knowing smile. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the comforter and fluffed up the pillows for good measure. No reason to waste fresh sheets on a clean bed. Dolores was efficient, but not lazy. She went back into the hall to get her vacuum cleaner off the cart.

She plugged in the machine and began to vacuum the carpet. As she worked her way around the bed she saw that the armchair under the a/c unit was out of place. The little indentations left by the chair legs on the carpet were clearly visible in the beam of the vacuum’s headlight.

“Annoying.”

Dolores said, switching off the vacuum. She grabbed ahold of the arms of the chair and gave it a twist to get it back in place. She surveyed the new position of the chair with skepticism… the little indentations on the carpet were still partially visible.

“So annoying!”

She said and crouched down to get a better look at the legs and the divots they needed to occupy. As she leaned in close a small glimpse of something caught her eye from under the chair. She got down on her stomach and saw the limp handle of a plastic grocery bag hanging out of a small hole on the underside of the chair.

Dolores had been cleaning rooms at the Hotel Cecil for 26 years and she had seen a lot of things hidden in the rooms over the years. A handmade knife in the air conditioning unit, drugs in the toilet tanks, sex toys under the pillows, and once a very large snake in the bathtub. So she wasn’t shocked when her probing fingers dislodged a tightly wrapped bundle from the chair. But her curiosity was piqued and instead of pushing it back into the chair and moving on to her next room she decided to take a quick peek. She sat up, resting her back against the bed with the mysterious package in her lap.

The bundle was tightly wrapped in the grocery bag and secured with a rubber band. She stretched the band and removed it carefully so as not to break it, she would put this back just as she found it after she saw what was inside. She unrolled the bag and opened it, inside she found a fairly large blue fanny pack. It was the kind her fashion impaired mother had worn during trips to the nearby beaches when she was a kid. Big enough for sunscreen, snacks, and a wallet. The thought made her smile for a moment, but the smile faded. That was a long time ago. Dolores grasped the zipper pull on the fanny pack, looked around the room to confirm she was still truly alone, and pulled it open.

Cash.

Dolores blinked in disbelief. The fanny pack was stuffed with cash. Instinctively she zipped it back up and hugged it close to her chest. Her eyes darted wildly around the room landing on the door. Without hesitation she leapt up and ran to the door where she quickly shoved the safety bar into place and then backed away. The reality of what she was doing was fluttering around the periphery of her conscious mind like a butterfly. She stepped into the bathroom closing and locking the door behind her. She placed the fanny pack on the counter and stared at it. It seemed bluer under the bright vanity lights, so vibrant she thought absently.

Dolores was not a thief. Dolores was an honest, hard-working woman who came to work every day and paid her bills on time. She lived in one of the most expensive cities in one of the most expensive states in the U.S. and she didn’t have a lot of luxuries, but she could drive to the beach on her days off and she could count the number of rainy days in a year on her hands. She was fine, that what she always told people who asked her how she was doing.

“Fine.”

As she stood there, in the bathroom of room 602 staring at that fanny pack she knew that she couldn’t keep that money. And it was a pit in her stomach. Sure, she had panicked, but she had come to her senses. She realized this money belonged to someone, and they would miss it, and housekeeping would get blamed, and she would get caught, and fired, or worse, and she needed this job. She would not be fine without it.

Her mind was made up… But one last look wouldn’t hurt anybody. So she opened up the bag and took out the money. It was all very organized. Stacks of $1,000 secured with red rubber bands, 20 stacks of cash, 20,000 dollars in all. As Dolores placed the last stack on the bathroom counter she realized the fanny pack wasn’t empty. There, at the bottom, was a small black notebook.

She pulled the notebook out of the bag and turned it over in her hands. It was one of those classic leather-bound journals. The weight of it in her hands made her suddenly uneasy, the pit in her stomach dropped deeper. Suddenly she heard footsteps in the hallway. She pressed her ear to the bathroom door. What if the person staying in this room was coming back? She tensed and listened harder, willing her breathing to stop so she could hear better. But the footsteps continued right past the room and down the hall toward the elevators. She relaxed and pressed her forehead against the door where her ear had been while her breathing returned to normal. She needed to put this stuff back.

But, the little black book… it was as if it was calling to her, tugging on her mind… would it explain where the money came from? Who it belonged to? Who was staying in room 602? She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“Just a peek Dolly, and then right back in the bag!”

She said to herself and then nodded in agreement, her head and her reflection bobbing in unison.

She sat down on the edge of the tub and opened the small black book to the first page. There she found the name and address of the Hotel Cecil written neatly in blue ink. Slightly puzzled she turned the page.

I bought this diary at LAX yesterday. It was a stupid impulse buy, but I felt like someone could be watching me and I needed to look normal, not suspicious. What is more casual than a travel journal? I’m an idiot.

With nobody to talk to...

Oh well, it already came in handy when I needed to write down the hotel info. I’m not sure I can live two weeks with no phone. It’s like I'm living in the 1900s! But for this plan to work James said absolutely no phones, and he is a pro.

I guess this journal will help keep me busy. I need something to do in this crap bag hotel. What a dump! 14 days and counting.

New life, new me.

Dolores flipped through a couple more pages of bad poetry and doodles. This stuff sounded like a spoiled young woman to her mind. The money was probably just what this girl had brought to spend on her California adventure hidden carelessly while she was out partying the night away. The maid was getting ready to close the book when she stopped flipping, disturbed by what she saw. The neat handwriting was replaced by sloppy lettering that looked rushed.

I’ve been hearing voices in the hall for the past 15 minutes. I thought it might be other guests heading back to their rooms, but it got louder and I looked out the peephole

He is covered in blood!

There is a man outside my door just covered in blood

I can’t see who he is talking to, but I can’t call the cops or my plan won’t work, I’m so scared, but I can’t call them.

OH GOD

Wait- the voices stopped

I don’t see anybody in the hall now. I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess it’s over. I can’t believe I have to spend 10 more days in this rat trap. This better work.

Dolores turned another page.

It’s Happening AGAIN

He is back, the man with the blood is back outside my door. I can see him and he is talking so loudly! But I can’t make out the words, like he is speaking some other language.

I think he just said SATAN

Oh my god I should just call the cops

I can’t I can’t I can’t

I don’t want to go to jail, but I don’t want to die in this shitty hotel either

I called, I gave them a fake name and said I was staying at the end of the hall.

The police came, I could hear them talking and laughing. They just walked right by my room. I think they talked to the people at the end of the hall,

The man was gone

I am so confused

They didn’t even check any of the rooms, what if somebody is hurt in there, or worse? Useless cops. That’s why I’m going to get away with this. They will never realize they are looking for me in the wrong country. I hope James is having fun with my credit cards in Mexico while I am trying not to get murdered by schizo hobos in this shithole.

I need a bath

And a joint

Then another.

I had the craziest dream last night. I woke up here in the hotel and there was a man in my room, just sitting at the foot of my bed. And I start screaming at him to get out, right? But he just sits there, like he can’t even hear me. And I grab the phone and I'm telling him I'm calling the cops on his pervert ass, and he just slowly stands up and fixes his tie and walks over to the window. So now I'm raging and I get out of the bed like I'm going to confront this weirdo and he just opened the window and stepped out. I ran over there but the window was closed and then when I opened it there was nothing outside, no body on the sidewalk, nothing.

Hahaha

So spooky.

And another.

You won’t believe it! I’ve been cooped up in this room for 8 days and I'm going nuts from boredom, so I go down to the lobby to stretch my legs and there is a freaking Ghost Tour happening! Apparently this dump is haunted. Hilarious! All these weirdo tourists were paying to get a guided tour of the place. I followed them around for like 20 minutes listening to all the bull this tour guide was spouting about the hotel. I guess a lot of people have died here over the years, but come on, ghosts? So lame! I might have to penalize James for this recommendation

LOL

Pay him 19.5 instead of the full 20k for the inconvenience!

I had the dream again.

I hate this place.

Only 2 days left before I emerge from this awful chrysalis as a brand new me. I’m celebrating with a bottle of tequila. It’s like my rebirth day!

Oh boy did I have one too many last night! I accidentally walked into the wrong room on my way back from the ice machine. There was some sort of kinky dress up party going on. It looked like the Great Gatsby on acid! I’m pretty sure I saw a dwarf dancing with a hooker and a tiny dog drinking champagne. I don’t remember how I got back to my own room but there was red lipstick all over my face and pillow when I woke up. I blacked out during my own sexy girl on girl action, what a lightweight!

Dolores’s brow wrinkled in confusion. She hadn’t cleaned up after any parties in weeks. Things had actually been pretty quiet at the hotel since January. What was this girl talking about? She flipped the page and found that it was blank- was that it? She thumbed through a few more pages and found that towards the end of the little black book written in a hurried scrawl was one more page.

He is back! He is knocking. He wants in. I looked out the peephole and he was looking back at me. His eyes are so dark.

The knocking is so loud. I don’t know what to do. I tried to call the cops, but the phone isn’t working, no dial tone. Can’t anybody else hear him? What is he doing?

He won’t stop knocking!

OH GOD

And then in a dark redish brown at the bottom of the page a neatly drawn pentagram, like a seal and the words:

Hail Satan,

RR

And yesterday’s date

Dolores snapped the book shut and placed it in the bathroom garbage can. She carefully packed all the cash back into the fanny pack and zipped it closed. She buckled the strap around her waist and pulled the garbage bag containing the journal out of the trash can and tied the top closed. She unlocked the bathroom door and did a quick sweep of the room to collect her cleaning supplies. She put everything back in order on her cart in the hall, careful to tuck the garbage bag under the trash from the previous rooms.

This girl wasn’t coming back for the money. This girl wasn’t faking her own disappearance. This girl should have listened to the tour guide. Dolores closed the door to room 602, patted her new fanny pack and whispered,

“Thanks for the tip Richie.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Housekeeping.”