He took a step forward. The floorboard groaned. “There is no Room 7. Not on this floor.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he laughed—a dry, ugly sound. “Well, Billie Star. Your honest mistake just became my problem. Because if you’re real, and this place has cameras…” He looked up at the ceiling, spotting a tiny red light in the smoke detector. “Then we’re both on tape.”
Curiosity overriding the script, she inserted the master key into Room 9’s lock. It turned with a heavy click .
“You saw nothing,” he growled, turning the key over. “But since you’re here…” He gestured to the cash. “You think I’m stupid? You think this is a hostel ?” FakeHostel - Billie Star - An Honest Mistake -2...
The man’s eyes went cold. “Wrong room, sweetheart.”
Greg just slid a heavy brass key across the lacquered wood. “Figure it out.”
But she would never, ever use a master key again. He took a step forward
Greg squinted. A faint smirk touched his lips—a signal, the one they’d rehearsed. “We’re overbooked. The only room left is the Hostel Master Suite .”
He tossed the key onto the bed. “New plan. You’re going to walk out of here, tell Greg you found the wrong room, and ask for the basement key. That’s where your real scene is. And you never saw me. Understand?”
Billie’s improv training kicked in. “Wait! I’m not a cop. I’m… I’m just an actress. Look, there’s a camera in the hallway. This whole building is a set. FakeHostel? Ever heard of it?” Not on this floor
The front desk clerk, a wiry man with a lazy eye named Greg, didn’t bother looking up from his clipboard. “Name?”
“What other room?” Billie whispered.
Billie bit her lip, playing the flustered tourist. “But I can’t afford an upgrade…”