Penticola

don·ny·brook

/ˈdän�"ˌbro͝ok/

noun

noun: donnybrook plural noun: donnybrooks

1. a scene of uproar and disorder; a heated argument.: "raucous ideological donnybrooks".

The hotel had about 10 floors. The directions sent about 10 minutes ago said to go to the very top floor. Room 213. I expected the hotel to be worn down, maybe in a bad neighborhood, but no. The neighborhood wasn’t horrible. But a giant ten story hotel stood out from the rest of the buildings. Cars parked around the building, even a swimming pool filled with children and their families.

I exit my car, admiring the building in front of me. A statue by the entrance welcomed any visitors that decided to visit it’s home. Walking into the building, I notice a faint aroma of vanilla and coffee beans.

“Welcome!” A cheery lady in her mid thirties greeted me from behind a marble desk. Her green and white dress was tight, but began to flow below her midriff. “Are you here to find a room?”

A slight accent was noticeable. Possibly Australian? It reminded me of Maia Mitchell, except just a bit vaguer.

“I’m just visiting room 137..” I inform her. She smiles at me, before holding up a finger and redirecting herself to her phone.

A sheer black phone mounted on the wall behind her was taken into her tiny hands and held to her ear by her shoulder. She began pressing buttons on the keypad adjacent to the phone, before I heard her tapping her feet. When she held the phone to her ear, I assumed they had picked up and tuned out of the conversation.

I took a moment to scope out the hotel. Marble floor beneath my feet, nice white walls given a goldish-white accent stripe lining a few centimeters above the floor. Left to the front desk was what seemed to be a snack area. Or a place to have dinner. Tables covered in white cloth and silverware were set in the middle of the line, nil of them occupying anything but ghosts and forgotten conversations. Orchids inhabited the center of the long tables.

“Second elevator to your left, ninth floor.” she informs me with a smile. Her eyes flash with a hint of nervousness as she glances down. I assume she hasn’t had this job for long and is still getting used to talking to strangers. I feel slightly bad for her. When I worked and Tokyo Hibachi as a server, I had such a horrible time talking to the customers. I would freeze in the smallest of crowds and not know what to do. I’ve gotten way better with interacting and holding conversations with people. I know how it feels to be nervous or have anxiety over messing up a conversation.

A simple nod was all I responded with before heading to the elevators. Once I found them, the one closest to me had a white piece of construction paper on it, the words ‘out of order’ sloppily written in purple marker. So I began to enter the second elevator. I noticed three of my co workers, Allison, Ashara, and Mabel enter the building, so went back to the main entrance and greeted them.

I was greeted by a chorus of hi’s and hello’s as too more workers entered. I noticed them to be the twins. Damien and Daryl, both with creamy brown hair square faces. They were easily noticeable from here and we waved them over.  I slightly cringe at the thought of being squished into a tiny elevator before I realized just how big it was. Damien was the last one into the space, the enormous elevator holding us with enough room for at least seven more people. Ashara pressed the small button labeled 9, and the elevator began to move.

The ride was doomed to an awkward silence, for no one know exactly what to say. There was no instruction on what exactly to do, nor was there any inkling of what we were doing here. Everything was pretty sudden, at least for me. I’m not exactly sure what message everyone else received, but I can’t imagine it being any different than the one I received less than an hour ago.

“Do you guys know what’s going on?” Allison’s small voice echoed throughout the spacious elevator.

“I just got a text saying be here in twenty minutes..” Mabel frowned, tucking her phone smoothly into her pocket. “I’m here, still clueless..”

The elevator door opens to a dim hallway, which reminded me of the beginning of one of those typical horror movies that was hyped up before the release but turned out to suck. I didn’t like it. I was a big fan of horror movies, but this is real life.

“This is room 133” Daryl pointed to the room in front of us. The oak wood door lessened the tone of ‘horror’ and made the hallway a bit more mundane. I know for a fact that Mable hated anything slightly scary, so I make a note to myself to keep watch of her and make sure she’s okay.

“The hallway it really long, but there is only six doors, meaning these are probably really big hotels..” Damien examines the hall.

He’s like a detective sometimes. Always taking note or inspecting something. Always alert. It’s weird but I guess I’ll have to get used to it. It could come handy in certain situations.

By now we were all at the end of the lengthy hallway, staring at the door marked 137.

For some odd reason, nobody knocked. No one opened the door. They all just stared at it. And for a long, tedious time, all I could do was stare at my feet and think

“Since they’re so big, he could be throwing a welcoming party for Khloe!” Allison tried to lighten the mood, but everyone still stayed as if there were glue trapping them to their current spots.

“Chances are diminutive.” Lizzie comes from behind us.

Everyone turns their heads to her, surprised and some of us scared at her sudden appearance. Her red hair was thrown into a high ponytail and a pastel pink romper draped against her body. “De’ Ondre is more of a work person, he wouldn’t throw you a party. No offence, but you’ve barely been here long enough for him to even know your name.”

She wasn’t wrong, but her tone made me feel as if she meant it personally.  It’s probably just me being insecure, but I have no way to find out without making a minor scene.

“Who’s going to knock?” Mabel speaks. altercation

“It’s just a door,” Ashara expresses sarcastically, knocking on the wood door, “Stop acting like it’s a big deal..”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tapping her right foot. What I’ve noticed about her is she get irritated very easily, and is very honest. If she has a problem with something, she will fix it or make  you fix it, regardless if it’s harsh or not.

“Sorr-” Mabel begins, but stops when we hear footsteps.

We all stare at the large door and wait.

When someone finally opened it, we were all confused, for we didn’t know this man.

He was tall, standing easily at 6’4. Hazel eyes above a square nose and thin lips that showcased a mischievous smile.

“Welcome.” He grinned, before two others showed up behind us, and we were all pushed into the room. Daryl, of course, didn’t like the fact that some stranger was pushing him. So instead of walking forward as the two butch men intended, Daryl swung his arm backwards, hitting the blond man in his jaw. I’m not usually good at confrontation, so I can only squirm slightly when the other man pushes the rest of us.

I only now noticed that Damien joined the fight, trying his best to defend his older brother. Hearing about this earlier, I would have assumed Damien and Daryl would have won, but apparently I spoke too soon, for the first guy pulled out seven inch knife, and held it against Damien’s throat.

“Come into the room, Daryl.” a familiar voice sounded.

One look to my right I notice a beaten up De’Ondre. His eyes pleaded with the buff man next to him. I stood awkwardly, staring at my feet, praying that we could all leave this room with minimal injuries.