“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry sir, but the details of the booking were written on the agreement you signed. There’s nothing I can do, unless you want to forfeit your booking?”

“No, I don’t want to forfeit my booking! I paid good money for this! What I want you to do, is call up that other fella, and tell him his trip is off!

The young concierge looked up at the red-faced man in front of her, fear written plainly in her expression. It was her third day on the job.

“I- uh, I can call for my manager, if you want sir, and she’d be happy to explain-“

“I don’t want to talk to any other incompetent Nancy working here! Get me a man to talk to!”

She grimaced.

“The only man on duty today is Arnold and he’s the janitor-“

“Ugh! Useless! Give me the damn key then, I better get this hellish weekend started.”

Boris Johnston IV hobbled up the creaky wooden stairs of The Coastal Getaway, fuming so hard his fake teeth rattled. How had his vacation planning gone so badly? One minute he decided to do something spontaneous, the first spontaneous thing in his life, the next he was being told by a no good teenage girl that his private, relaxing vacation, the first vacation he’d taken since Linda died 20 years earlier, was to be crashed by a stranger. It was true, he hadn’t read the fine print, but that wasn’t fair! He lost half his eyesight a decade ago!

Opening the door of his suite was difficult because the lock was rusty, and the key was rusty. The door made a groaning sound as he pushed it open. It was shamblier than what he had anticipated; but it would do the job nicely. A large Queen bed with a threadbare comforter stood regally across from a sliding glass -no plastic- door that led out onto a small balcony overlooking the ocean.

He barely had time to take in the room when the door opened again. In stepped a tall, suave looking man, with sophisticated salt and pepper hair and an amusing twinkle in his eyes. The stranger saw Boris and grinning broadly.

“Well hello roomie! Serves us right for trying to get a cheap room, eh?”

Boris scowled.

“Get out! This is my room! There has to be come mistake!”

“Now, now, let’s be friendly. After all, we will be spending the weekend together,” the stranger said with a wink. “What’s your name, cutie? I’m Tom.”

Boris felt his face turn a dark shade of tomato. What was this guy playing at? Calling him, Boris, a cutie!

“I- uh, my name, it’s, Johnston. Boris, that is,” he spluttered out, face growing redder by the second. He wanted nothing more than for this flamboyant, charming Tom to walk out that door and leave him alone forever.

“Well nice to meet you Johnston-Boris. I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Tom replied, the twinkle in his eye growing brighter. “Would you care to accompany me to dinner on the patio?”

Boris hesitated. On the one hand, he hadn’t eaten since he left his house that morning, and he was starving. On the other, he felt immensely uncomfortable around Tom. The way he looked at him made Boris feel at once hot and cold, and like his mouth was full of frogs. After an eternity of inner turmoil, he scowled.

“Not hungry.”

The slight fall of Tom’s hopeful expression almost made Boris reconsider.

“Suit yourself. You know where to find me,” Tom replied in his easily cheerful manner, before departing the room.

Why did you say that? Boris reprimanded himself. Now where are you going to eat? He had one crushed granola bar in his pocket, which would not be enough to sustain him until breakfast. He peered out the window, where he could see the edge of the patio.

Swallowing his pride, and his butterflies, Boris left the room.

“An entire bucket of worms? Are you serious?”

“My Larry never backed down from a challenge, that’s for sure,” laughed Tom, wiping a tear from his eye. “One of the things I miss the most about him.”

Boris sighed.

“I know what you mean. When Linda died, I felt like life lost all its colour. She was the risk taker, the spontaneous one; you know, this is the first vacation I’ve taken since she died. It just never crossed my mind; these past 20 years I’ve eaten the same breakfast every morning. I can’t believe how dull I’ve become.”

“I don’t think you’re dull.”

Boris blushed fiercely. What was it with this man and his complements?

“I- er, don’t think you’re dull either. “

Tom laughed delightedly. He started to speak but Boris pushed on.

And I’m sorry I shouted at you when we first met; I was quite upset, you know, after finally planning this for myself -by myself- and seeing a stranger walk in-”

Tom waved his hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge old man. I’ll admit I didn’t read the fine print either; I doubt they’d sucker as many naïve fools in without making it hard to find.” He glanced down at the beach, where the sun was starting to sink low in the sky. “Fancy watching the sunset?”

This time, Boris smiled. “Sure.”

Sunday

“You’ll call, won’t you?” asked Tom as they walked down the stairs of The Coastal Getaway.

“Sure,” said Boris, shoving the receipt with Tom’s hastily scrawled number into his pocket.

They shook hands, and before jumping into his cab, Tom leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Boris’ sagging cheek. Boris reddened darker than he ever had before.

“Until then.” And with that Tom was gone.

Stunned in place, Boris glanced up at The Coastal Getaway to see the young concierge from the first day watching him, a small smile on her face. Boris nodded respectfully, embarrassed that she witnessed the interaction, and ashamed of the way he had yelled at her when he had checked in the other day.

Soon after, Boris was on his way home too, still astounded at the weekend’s twist of fortune.

Back at The Coastal Getaway, the young concierge stood on the porch long after the two old men left, still smiling her small smile. She watched on as two new cars pulled up the driveway, both carrying miserable widowed crones. Her smile broadened. Customers.