Going Berserk Over a Hijacked Hotel Membership

The hotel calls me on the phone and tactfully reminds me that since I've forgotten to pay for the condoms I've used last night, they've deducted the sum from my VIP card.

I'm a little perplexed, to say the least. Last night, I've taken on an overnight shift till late night, so I've never been to the hotel.

So, I question my wife, Nyla Burdette, who's the only one that knows about my VIP card number. She just looks at me in confusion.

"Honey, it costs over a thousand dollars to spend a night in that hotel! Why would I stay there, to begin with? There must be something wrong with the hotel's system!"

I no longer waste my breath on Nyla. My oldest uncle, Eric Fuller, is the investor of that particular hotel, so I call him right away.

"Uncle Eric, help me investigate who Nyla has taken to the hotel last night! I want to catch them in the act!"

Nyla Burdette, my wife, nearly made me laugh out loud with her excuse.

When my uncle, Eric Fuller, took over as the CEO of the hotel, he called me right away and told me that, for my birthday gift, he'd specially reserved a lifetime VIP card that waived all room charges.

The card was bound to me, and no one else could use it.

But now the hotel was calling me, saying that I'd checked into the presidential suite last night and had even used the condoms in the room.

I triple-checked with them, and the front desk firmly insisted that it was me—Bryce Sheehan—who had checked in.

I couldn't swallow this indignity, especially since when I first mentioned wanting to go try out the hotel, Nyla had rolled her eyes at me and snapped, "Isn't the house big enough for you? Why must you insist on staying in a hotel? I've never seen someone as wasteful as you!"

But Uncle Eric had gifted me this VIP card. Why shouldn't I be allowed to use it?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so I drove straight to the hotel.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, the lobby was packed with guests checking in. I waited nearly half an hour before the front desk finally had a moment for me.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Sheehan. You called me this morning," I said, trying to hold back my anger.

The receptionist, whose name tag read "Fiona", looked up in confusion. "Mr. Sheehan? Didn't you go back to your room already? You even requested no housekeeping earlier."

My expression darkened instantly.

She continued, "Mr. Sheehan even called to activate the Do Not Disturb service just ten minutes ago. He said he didn't want to be interrupted."

My whole body trembled with rage. How dare that homewrecker use my name to book the room?

"I'm the real Mr. Sheehan! Bryce Sheehan!" I said through gritted teeth.

She looked me up and down impatiently. "Sir, if you don't have a booking, please leave. We have a lot of guests today. Please don't make a scene.

"Mr. Sheehan checked in with his wife using a VIP card. I've never personally met him before, but Ms. Burdette is a regular here. How could I be mistaken?"

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. My wife had turned into someone else's wife. How ironic.

Just then, the elevator dinged open. A man stepped out wearing the latest season's Bulgari suit. On his wrist was the luxury watch I'd won at an auction for 1.8 million dollars.

From what I knew, the man was Craig Dickson, Nyla's junior from college who had just graduated.

Fiona looked like she'd seen a lifeline as she pointed at him. "That's him right there. Now that the real Mr. Sheehan has arrived, I suggest you leave quickly and stop causing trouble."

Craig's expression stiffened the moment he saw me, but he quickly forced a fake smile. "Hey, what a coincidence! You're staying here too?"

I shook off his hand coldly. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation, Craig Dickson? Why did you check in with my name? Why are the condoms you used being charged to my account? Why are my shoes on your feet? And since when did my wife become your wife?"