He comes in with a reservation for Economy.
“You deserve better,” you tell him.
“No one ever told me that before,” he says.
You hit some keys on your keyboard. You hit more than you have to in order to keep him there at your counter a little longer.
“You deserve Standard at minimum,” you say. “Premium even.”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he says. “You don’t know who I’ve hurt.”
You reach across the counter and grab him by the lapels of his J Crew pea coat.
“Everybody gets hurt,” you say. “It’s how we know we’ve loved.”
He is startled. He is silent. He waits patiently for whatever your next word might be.
“I’m upgrading you to Luxury,” you say. “With a catch.”
He asks what catch and you tell him he has to take you with him.
“Wherever you go. I’m getting into that car with you and you are taking me wherever you go. Because you standing on the other side of this counter tonight feels like I finally found the reason I took this job eight years ago.”
You tell him to initial next to the part of the contract that says he can never let you go.
“Thank you for choosing Avis,” you tell him before leaping your hips over the counter and falling into his arms, then leading him to the Cadillac XTS Or Similar that will drive the two of you down that long and bumpy highway to lifelong love.
