Chapter 9The hotel lobby looked like Christmas morning instead of Christmas Eve day. Warwick was in the middle of the floor, in front of the genuine, fragrant flocked blue spruce with only white lights and red balls, some matte, some shiny. The contents of his bag were scattered about like discarded wrapping paper. He couldn’t wait. He had to check. Sadly, once Warwick’s suitcase was empty, the scene took on the feeling every disappointed teen likely knew after seeing what Santa had and hadn’t brought. Pants, shirts, socks, underwear in every direction, “What about the good stuff?” The difference was, Warwick wasn’t looking for a cellphone or a gaming system. He was looking for a yellow scarf.
“Where the bloody hell is it?”
“Is there something I can assist you with?”
When Warwick looked
