The Syndrome Read Free Page B

replied, with a wince of a smile.
    The clerk laughed, and pushed a registration card across the desk. Like the bellboy, he was a nice-looking young man with closely cropped blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Over the pocket on the left breast of his blazer was La Resort’s logo, a pink-and-cream orchid flanked by palm fronds.
    “Do you have a reservation?”
    “Unh-huh,” she said. “It’s Nico Sullivan. Nicole.”
    “If you’ll fill that out,” he told her, “I’ll take an imprint of your credit card—and we’ll get Travis to help you with your luggage.” Taking a brochure from a Lucite display stand, he turned it upside down, and sketched a line in ballpoint from
You Are Here
to a building marked
Flagler Tower.
Then he typed something on his computer, reached under the desk, and produced a white plastic card with Nico’s name embossed upon the resort’s logo.
    “This is your key,” he said. “It’s a charge card, too. So you can use it for anything at the resort—drinks, clothes, golf lessons—you name it! Just show the key, and it’s yours.”
    “Thanks!” Nico replied, reaching for the card with a bright smile. But the clerk held onto it for just a second too long, flirting with her.
    “Any questions?” he asked.
    Nico laughed, a musical giggle. She gave the card a little tug, and he let go. “If I think of anything,” she said, “I’ll give you a call.”
    “I’d like that,” he replied.
    She ran her fingers over the embossment of her name, and looked up. “This looks out over the beach, right?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “So it faces west …?”
    The clerk nodded.
    “Oh, good,” she said, “because I’m really looking forward to the sunsets.”
    “Well, you won’t be disappointed,” he told her.
    A moment later, she emerged from the office to find the bellboy waiting with her luggage on a trolley. Nearby, the BMW sat in the shade under an arbor of bougainvillea.
    “Nice ride,” the kid remarked.
    “Thanks.”
    Together, they followed the sidewalk to the Flagler Building, making small talk about real estate and the weather. When they got to the elevator, they had to wait and, as they did, Nico’s wristwatch began to chime, an insistent electronic flutter that reminded her to take her medication. The bellhop smiled. “Throw it away,” he suggested.
    “I wish I could!”
    “Hey, this is Florida! We don’t have appointments here! You just … go with the flow.”
    She laughed politely, but the truth was, she
did
have appointments. There was the appointment with her laptop every afternoon at four, and the appointment with her meds, twice a day. The meds were a lithium compound prescribed by the Clinic. Duran said they were used to treat “bipolar disorder,” or manic-depression, which meant that she had a problem with her moods. Like everyone else, she had her highs and lows except, in her case, the highs were in orbit and the lows could give you black lung. The lithium kept her on an even keel—which was good, if you liked even keels.
    But she didn’t, really. She was a girl who liked to fly. And, as a matter of fact, she was feeling pretty good right now, standing next to good ole Travis, waiting for the elevator.
    Which raised the question: why not do as the natives do, and just … go with the flow? Like the bellboy said. Accentuate the positive—eliminate the negative.
And only the negative.
It wouldn’t be the first time….
    She touched the little button on her wristwatch, killing the alarm. A moment later, the doors slid open with a clatter, and the two of them got in. Slowly, the elevator began to rise untilit came to a shuddering stop on the eighth floor. A couple of turns down the open-air corridor brought them to a door marked 806-E. The bellboy inserted the key-card in the lock, and waited for the diode to flash green. When it did, he pushed the door open and held it for her.
    “Oh, wow!” she gushed, sweeping into the living room, and doing a little turn.