Sick Like Me (Sick Like #1)

Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

I stood at the open driver’s door of my car with my hands thrown up. I then rest my right arm on the roof of my car. “Stefan, we’re going for two nights, not a fucking week,” I stated as I eyed his suitcase, and overnight bag.

He struggled to carry both from his car which was parked a few spaces away, and I knew I should have offered to help him, but he was the one who made the stupid mistake of bringing too much shit, not me.

So I basked in the glory of peace and the sun as I leant against my car, free from the stress he had put himself under.

“I know, dickhead. This isn’t all for our trip, this is for when I get back, too. I have a week off work remember?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at me as he came to a stop before the boot of my car.

“You can’t just go get the suitcase from your house when we come back? Surely it’s easier that way,” I asked, to which Stefan shook his head dramatically.

“No, because the second you drop me back here, I have to go right to my missus to pick her up, then we have to start the drive to the caravan site,” Stefan went to check his watch, but realised it would be a bad idea as he would have to pick his heavy bag up higher. “God I wish I hadn’t had done fucking arms last night at the gym.”

Stefan looked up at the sky, admiring the clear blue sky and the shining sun. “Plus, I don’t want to risk someone breaking into my car and taking my suitcase. My clothes are a little spenny, and my missus got me half of them so I don’t want to risk it.”

I laughed. “You know what that sounds like?” I asked, pausing for a second. I could tell from behind his own sunglasses that he was glaring at me, silently wishing I would not continue the saying he had grown to hate.

But I didn’t care.

“A you problem.”

He knew I was joking. I would never make him leave his suitcase behind, not when I knew whatever was inside had to have at least meant something to him. But then again, even if it was filled with snacks or other meaningless shit, I would have still acted like I was against him bringing it but I would still allow him to take up all the space he needed in my car.

Stefan had learned quite quickly into our friendship that just because I complained about something, it did not mean I actually meant it. If complaining was a love language, then it would be my number one pick, Peyton had once joked.

I let my right arm drop from the car and reached into near the steering wheel, then I felt around for a button. I then pressed it, and heard the familiar click of the lock disengaging to reveal the boot was unlocked.

Stefan leant his suitcase with his heavy bag on top against his leg, then he carefully reached for the button on the boot. He pressed it, then lifted the boot door high above his head.

Stefan let out a puff of air before he grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He then wrapped his fingers around the handle on the side of his suitcase. He seemed to need to hype himself up first before he then picked up the case and threw it into the back of my car.

The car shook, and I grabbed the corner of my sunglasses to pull them to the end of my nose as I attempted a glare over the top of them at him. “Careful, my baby doesn’t like it when she gets manhandled.”

“She’s nothing like her owner then,” Stefan replied playfully before he slammed the boot shut. He then walked around the car to the passenger side and opened the door.

He stood with the door open, his eyes on me. “Well, get in then dickhead,” He laughed before he climbed into the passenger seat of my car.

I smiled to myself, doing the same before closing the door firmly behind me.

I reached for my phone and changed the playlist to a more upbeat one Stefan had made us previously, titled ASHTON AND STEFAN’S ROAD TRIP PLAYLIST .

I then placed my phone back in the drink holder, knowing within the hour and a half drive it would be moved. I had promised Stefan a drive through on the way since we had just left work and we aimed to go to the hotel right after—so we had no time for a quick bite to eat beforehand.

“You ready to get going now? You haven’t left anything else behind?” I asked, more so joked.

Stefan waved his hand lazily. “Ah, fuck it. If I forgot something, I’ll just have to deal with it later.”

As I looked around, I noted the car park for our office building was mostly empty. I then looked across the road that separated us from the showroom and found most of the cars had left their usual parking spaces too. An announcement earlier that week came out saying the branch would shut earlier for us to have plenty of time to make ourselves look dashing ahead of the eventful night that was upcoming.

I gave Stefan one last chance to go back to his car should he have forgotten anything—I knew what he was like, he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body. But he denied my offer with a claim he was around 75% sure he had everything he needed.

And with that, I pulled my car out of the parking space and we began our drive to the hotel, the music blasting with the windows down, the wind whipping at our hair as we sang along to the playlist.

About halfway into the drive, I pulled over into a service station on the side of a motorway. Why the company chose a place on the furthest side of what was deemed our county was beyond me. There were much closer locations that I was sure people would have been much happier with. But I guess they wanted to show off to the company owner. Anything to look good to Mr King.

I turned off the main road to the slip road, then I followed the few signs which seemingly led us to a more hilly and country path road hidden away from prying eyes. Then I turned and a newly paved road met my tyres.

I followed the road, and not far down it I was met by barriers and security guards. I turned the blasting music down to a low hum and chewed my bottom lip, thinking I had gone the wrong way.

I let my car come to a slow roll the closer I got to the small security hut, then I finally sopped with my window rolled as far down as it could go. I looked at the open window of the booth, confusion and nerves meddling inside my head.

“Are you here for the spa, the hotel, or for another event?” The man from inside the tiny cabin asked, his hands typing away on a computer. He sounded bored, as if this had been a question he had been asking all day long .

The radio beside him buzzed to life with chatter, but he seemed to pay it no attention as he awaited my response.

Stefan cleared his throat, urging me to finally speak up. “Oh, right!” I let out a small awkward laugh, the man in the booth finally tearing his eyes away from the computer to stare at me.

I noticed in the rear view mirror other cars began to pile up behind me, some similar to the ones my other coworkers drove. “I’m here for the King Family Furniture event,” I finally mustered up the right words, despite feeling intimidated.

“Name?” The man asked, holding out his hand to me. “And ID please?”

I looked at Stefan who held my bag on his lap. He silently opened it. And pulled out my purse. I took it, then opened the pocket where cash was meant to be stored to reveal it was the hiding place for my passport.

“Ashton Barett,” I stated as I handed my passport over to the man. The man stared at me, then at the passport in his hands, and back again. At that, I let one hand go of my steering wheel to grab the corner of my glasses. I pulled them off my face.

The man nodded as he seemed to verify my identity, and he then handed the passport back to me after he typed a few things into his computer, then the barriers opened wide. The man reached across and handed me a paper hanger. “Please place this on your rear view mirror.”

I leant forward and placed it on as the man requested, to which he nodded his head in approval. “Than you for confirming that for me, Miss Barett. I hope you enjoy your stay,” The man in the booth finished with what seemed to be parting words.

I then took the hint and threw my purse and passport back at Stefan before I continued the drive down the dark, seemingly freshly laid road.

Once we passed the barriers, they swiftly shut after us as the guard stopped and checked the next vehicle’s authenticity. I couldn’t help the smile forming, the tense feeling disappearing after we passed the security check.

We turned a corner between some trees, the booth disappearing from the view of my wing mirrors shortly after. And then we began to drive along what seemed to be a zig zag road for what felt like miles.

The trees began to appear less crowded the further we drove, and finally the road opened up to reveal green grassy fields before us as the zig zags began to straighten out.

I was unsure how much land the Manor actually consisted of, but I noted randomly around the fields there seemed to be large white function tents set up all over the place.

As I followed the road to the front of the building, I tried my best not to let my attention be diverted by the golf carts whizzing by. The place was huge, and it had become clear as to why the company had chosen such a place to re-welcome Mr King back into the company.

“This place is fucking huge,” Stefan mumbled as I pulled my car up to a stop by a sign that read STOP HERE , the metal circle on top of a tiny metal pole which seemed to be cemented ground.

I turned the engine off and stepped out of the car, my lips parted as I stared at the building. I had looked up Marefield Manor online, and while it looked beautiful in photos, they didn’t do the actual place any justice. The beautiful weather only added to the vision.

Marefield Manor had dated back to the mid-19 th century, I remembered reading online when Stefan and I pre-booked our hotel rooms.

The outside stood fairly tall, Victorian Gothic in style. The stones were dark and made the building look imposing, but around sections below large modern black framed windows, I noted ivy growing on the walls atop the flower beds. The greenery gave the building a brief splash of beauty amongst the intimidating exterior.

A gentleman in a white shirt, dark grey trousers and a black tie came rushing down that gravel path that led from the fresh cemented road, up some stone steps, and then ultimately to the large black wooden doors which were held open by unforeseen forces.

“Welcome to Marefield Manor,” The man smiled, his cheeks blushed pink from running around in the heat in such clothing. He was likely also incredibly busy and had been doing this for the last hour if not longer, I had assumed. “If you hand me your keys, I can arrange for your vehicle to be parked and I can bring your bags up to your room?”

I seemed not to hear his words, my eyes remaining on the building before me. I could feel my lips were slightly parted, feeling the insides of my lips getting slightly dry from the exposure to the outside air. But I didn’t care.

As I stared up at the building, I couldn’t help but imagine it to be a place I would consider getting married at someday—that was if they accepted wedding events. Sure, I had to have a fiancé for that, but a girl could dream.

At my extended silence, Stefan rushed around the car with the cloth clothing bag that my dress had resided in for the last few weeks, and grabbed the car keys from my hand, shoving them into the man’s open palm. “That would be amazing, thank you so much.”

Stefan gently wrapped his fingers around my wrist, then he tugged my arm gently before letting it go. The motion pulled me out of my staring trance, and I let out a smile as my eyes found Stefan who was stood not too far away, but his body was turned back to face me.

Seemingly wanting to get inside and away from the sweltering heat, Stefan cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing? Come on, stop zoning out,” He turned back to the path, and made his way up the steps.

I rushed to follow after Stefan, noting he held my purse in his hand. I rushed to grab it off of him before I fell in step with him. “Let’s go check out our rooms.,” He stated.

As we got past the few stone steps and got closer to the building, only then could I appreciate the sheer size of the front doors to the building. “Wow,” I let out in a faint whisper. “This place is beautiful.”

I heard a simple mhm beside me in agreement before we stepped into the shade, away from the risk of sunburn.

Once we got past the open doors, I pulled my sunglasses off and noted we were in a small hallway made purely of stone, making the small space feel very cool. It was a refreshing feeling after coming in from the 29 degree sunshine outside.

We took the few small steps through a small stone hallway and found another set of doors. Large glass doors, black framed with a grid running through them both.

Once through the second set of doors, my eyes widened as I took in the beauty of the place. I thought the outside was breathtaking, but the modern interior was something to be admired. The place was perfect, a mix of historic architecture with modern design on the inside.

I found we had entered into what seemed to be a foyer reception area. I couldn’t help my wandering eyes, them daring to look up. The reception ceilings were incredibly tall, so high I almost found it impossible to tell just how tall they went before they came to a stop. The ceiling was painted white, to match the inside walls. The place felt airy and light, as if trying to encourage an aura of calm.

I let my eyes fall to the desk in front of me, pushed seemingly to the far back out of the way. The desk stood between two walls, and while there was no obvious way to get behind it in sight, I found a woman behind the long marble white counter, behind a black sleek computer monitor.

A door built into the wall behind the desk opened, then closed as a man came into addition behind the desk Well, that answered my question. “Wow,” I breathed out again to which Stefan let out a bark of laughter.

“Have you never been here before?” He asked, seemingly surprised by how shocked I was by the building and its contents. “I had my prom here when I finished Sixth Form.”

I shook my head as I followed Stefan in a daze to the desk. Stefan placed his arms down on the counter, a smile on his face. “Hi, we’re here for the King Furniture Company event. We booked rooms here, Stefan Moore and Ashton Barett,” Stefan spoke up for me, probably positive I was in no state to talk as I was stuck in a trance.

The woman typed away on her keyboard, her long nails clicking against the plastic. “Can I see your IDs please?” The woman asked, to which I placed my passport on the desk, and Stefan shortly placed his open wallet to show his drivers licence.

The woman turned both to face her, then nodded with a smile before she pushed them back to us. We both picked up our own IDs, and I rushed to push my purse into my deep jacket pocket—otherwise I felt like I would easily lose it and Marefield Manor seemed like it would be unforgiving should you lose something there.

Her fingers stilled for a second, then she hummed and nodded before she reached under the desk.

The woman’s hand came back and slammed two cards on the desk, one with the number 108 on it, and the other with the number 110 . “Here are your rooms. 108 for Stefan Moore, and 110 for Ashton Barett,” The woman smiled.

Stefan went to reach for the card, but was stopped when the woman slammed down two pieces of paper and a pen. “Please read the hotel rules and sign to state you agree to follow them while staying here as a patron.”

I didn’t care to read the rules, I suspected they were the basic ones telling us to behave well or else we would be forced to leave the premises. So I grabbed the pen and blindly signed my name before I pushed the paper at the woman and grabbed my room card.

Stefan shrugged as he followed my actions, and once the cards were secured into our palms, the woman gave us a bright smile. “Please enjoy your stay. The elevators are on the right, or you can follow the stairs behind me to the first floor where your rooms are.”

“Let’s go up the stairs,” I stated, my eyes ghosting to them. I noted that on either side of the white counter, the stairs sat tall and made of wood but seemed to have been stained black in colour, standing out against the clean slate the rest of the place showed.

Stefan and I walked past the modern dark grey sofas pushed to face the windows, giving anyone who sat down a wide view of the beautiful lands The Manor owned.

I looked up as we reached the start of the stairs, and for the briefest of seconds I saw a small group of people walk at the top and turn a corner. I saw a man with slightly tan skin, brown hair with a ginger tinge to his beard. He looked all too familiar, like the photo of the contact that haunted me.

I stopped in my steps, my hand holding onto the banister. I stared at the empty space the man disappeared through with the group of people, and this caused Stefan to stop in his tracks a few steps ahead of me.

I looked at Stefan, my eyes wide and my lips parted slightly. This caused him to frown, dropping back down a step to get closer to me. “Ash, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I swallowed, then forced a smile and shook my head. “Huh? Oh, yeah no I’m fine. Shall we go to our rooms? Our bags should be there waiting for us by now.”

Stefan didn’t look convinced by me brushing off his concern, but he said nothing as I finally fell back into step with him.

We walked up the grand staircase and once we reached the hallway at top, we found a walkway that led to the other stairs. We read the signs on the wall before us to ensure we went the right way, and then we made our way down the left hallway towards our rooms.

We walked down a hallway, then onto another connecting one. We found a hallway with windows on one wall, and rooms on the opposing side. I stared out the windows as we passed, noting we seemed to be on the far left of the building tucked away with beautiful views of the golfing fields, and the event tents.

Stefan reached his arm out silently, throwing my dress in its bag at me. I laughed and grabbed the clothing bag, folding it carefully over my arm and ensuring it didn’t drag on the floor—or else I knew there would be hell to pay should Stefan see.

Stefan paused his walking and looked at the signs on the doors. Outside the closest room, room 110, sat a small pile of my overnight bag, and then beside it was Stefan’s suitcase and his overpacked gym bag.

I reached for my bag and threw it over my arm, then I walked around Stefan to unlock my door. I placed my bag in the way so the door wouldn’t close, then I turned back to him. “Do you want some help with your bags?” I offered.

I watched as Stefan picked his bag up and threw it over his shoulder, flinching from the sudden weight. “Nah butty, you’re alright,” He replied, grabbing the handle of his suitcase.

And with that, Stefan and the obnoxious sound of the suitcase wheels made their way down the hallway, past the room next to mine to his own.

I stood in the doorway, watching down the right to ensure he got to his room okay. Once Stefan threw his bags inside, he then peaked his head back out to me.

Stefan noticed me and let out a laugh which was inaudible. He waved his hand, then retreated back into his room. Once I heard the distant thud of the door shutting, I then entered my own room.

The black painted door shut behind me, and I turned to face inside the room.

Inside the room, I found a small door to my right which I assumed shut the bathroom off from the rest of the space. I looked to the left and noticed a large grey wooden wardrobe, missing the doors. I smiled, reaching in to the open rail to place my dress in its home for the next few hours while I got ready.

I turned to the bathroom once again and grabbed the silver door handle. I pulled it down, and stepped inside.

I let my lips part, surprised by how elegant and modern the room look. To the right, there was a boxy bath tub with a wall holding a small TV screen, and behind the wall I noticed there was a glass door that blocked off a walk in shower from the rest of the room. On the right, there sat a his and hers counter, with two sinks, two mirrors, and two hand towels folded on top of the counter. In the far right corner of the room, the toilet was tucked away neatly.

I stepped back out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I then decided to pick my bag up and stepped further into the room.

Just past the archway, on the right tucked out of sight was a small breakfast table with two armchairs, dark grey in colour. That seemed to be the focal point of the room, I noted.

I placed my bag carefully on one of the armchairs, then I looked around the rest of the room.

The whole right wall revealed a large window, from floor to ceiling. I smiled, coming to stand before the open curtains to admire the whizzing golf carts which seemed to don both staff and patrons.

I turned back to face the room. On the right of the room was a large historic styled vanity table, again dark grey in colour. There sat a chair under it, simple and white wood to match the walls and bedding.

My eyes drifted to the centre of the sleeping space. I found a large queen size white bed, two decorative grey pillows and then two navy ones in front of the white pillows to add a pop of colour. At the end of the bed sat a grey and navy throw to complete the ensemble.

Either side of the bed sat grey wooden tables, one with a small clock and the other with a lamp. On top of the bed sat a mirror, and then on the right wall which joined to the bathroom sat a tall mirror attached to the wall, no frame to it. It was modern and sleek to finish off the space.

I turned and sat on the edge of my bed, smiling before I lay back. I closed my eyes, basking in the silence.

I felt my phone vibrate from my pocket, and so I pulled it out and checked out the group chat I shared with Stefan and Peyton. Stefan had shared selfies of himself around his room, revealing it to be identical to mine.

I raised my phone and held it above my head, smiling at the camera as I took a shot of myself with my hair sprawled around my head like a golden halo. I then sent that to the chat to show the both of them I was still alive, and then I closed off the chat.

I opened my music app and clicked my shower playlist. I sat back up and kicked my shoes off messily, allowing them to scatter around the room. I finally stood once again and made my way back to my bag.

I pushed open the zip to reveal my wash bag tucked neat on top of the contents. I grabbed the small holographic bag and then grabbed my pink towel which was just under it.

And with that, I made my way to the bathroom to clean off the stress of the day, and to begin the process of making me look pretty for the event slowly creeping up on me. I had a few hours left, and then I would finally have a glass of champagne in my hand.

But as I got read, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread come over me in the pits of my stomach. I felt like something bad was going to happen that night, and I had been feeling off since I had seen the man.

The man who looked like Dakota Vernon.

But surely it wasn’t him. It had to be someone else who looked like him. Why would he be there? I pushed the anxiety and concerns to the back of my mind and I hummed to myself while I finished styling my makeup and hair.