In the morning, Justin makes coffee in the machine on the dresser. We lay the map across the bed and figure out our route. Florida for sure, but we have to decide which part. Justin wants to go to Weeki Wachee to see the mermaids. It seems kind of ridiculous, but really, why shouldn’t we? That’s what a vacation is, to the best that I can tell. Driving to see what there is to see without any other purpose.

I’m always careful about my expenses. I have money saved. Two hundred, plus the extra forty I always keep hidden in my guitar case. But when I hesitate on Weeki Wachee because we don’t need to go all the way to the left side of Florida to get to warm water, Justin jumps in with “I’ll even pay for gas. Don’t worry about it.” So really, there’s no reason not to see the mermaids.

Justin goes downstairs to check out while I brush my teeth and dry my hair. I’m supposed to meet him at the car, but a few minutes later the room phone rings and it’s Justin saying, “Can you come down here?” So I leave my stuff in the room and sprint down the stairs to the lobby, because his voice sounds desperate and the elevator is probably slow.

There’s a manager at the desk looking stern. Justin is red-faced, hands shaking.

“My dad canceled the card,” Justin whispers in my ear. “Declined the charges. Manager says he might arrest me.” He looks like he will break into sobs at any moment. He hands me the bill. The movies were pay-per-view, not regular cable. Plus room service. Plus tax. It’s a hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

I want to shout at him about calling me into it. I’m terrified they’ve already sent someone to the room and they’ll take my guitar. But Justin gets messier by the moment. He looks young, defeated, and I realize that he is not equipped to handle this.

I put my hand out to shake the manager’s. It throws him off, which is the point.

“I’m so sorry for this misunderstanding,” I say, using my best waitress voice. “If you could give us a chance to go upstairs and make a phone call, I’m sure—”

“I’m afraid we can’t allow—”

“If he calls collect, can he call from the lobby? It’s just a misunderstanding.” I smile sweetly. There are other people in the lobby. I can tell Justin is embarrassed to have witnesses, but it’s our asset. The manager won’t want a scene, and as long as I use a calm and reasonable voice, he’ll look terrible if he loses his cool.