Lime & Chaos

by Cerise70

Summary:

After a chance encounter in a small LA hotel, a struggling housekeeper finds herself caught between strange messages, unexpected generosity, and secrets that could change everything. Hitting the jackpot isn’t always about money—sometimes it’s a tip, a smile, or a creepy blondie calling your phone at the wrong time.

Notes:

As I’m writing this, a bit tipsy after three glasses of wine, in my comfy sweatpants with a face mask on, I’m so sorry because English is not my first language, and I’m still actively learning.
This is my first fan fiction after many years of hiatus (though I have hundreds of stories like this tucked away in my ‘special drawer’).
I hope you’ll enjoy this, and if something is unclear or simply doesn’t make sense, let me know. Kudos!

Chapter 1

Sometimes, when you see a star shining so bright, you just look up to the sky and think…

Alright, enough with this sentimental bullshit. You want to hear a real story? I got you, boo.

Hi. I’m X. My life was pretty messed up in every possible way for about 30 years. Now here’s how it changed in just a couple of weeks. Being a housekeeper - or if you’d like, a ‘cleaning lady’- in a cheap hotel isn’t a piece of cake. You get to see just how disgusting, filthy, and shameless people can be. Despite all the bullshit you need to go through, this particular job can sometimes be a blessing. In many, many ways.

It was just another gloomy, gray Sunday when I woke up feeling soulless and simply didn’t want to exist. I got up, applied some makeup to cover the black circles under my eyes, and grabbed my bag with my work clothes. Fortunately, all I had to do to get there was leave and slam the door. Things hadn’t been rosy since I arrived in this small town outside of LA, but thanks to some amazing people I could live in one of the hotel rooms (or rather, a broom closet with a mattress and a shower). Long story short - I was broke, alone, and basically living day to day.

I came to the office as quiet as usual, politely nodding to my coworkers to say hi, and went to change. I hated that grayish uniform - made in exactly the right shade to let you blend into the environment, so no guests could see you as a living human being. My manager gave me a list of tasks and rooms to clean with a cold smile. I took my cleaning trolley from the basement and just continued the day. After a few hours, my manager Nina called me back to the office.

"Next one of yours is 157. They asked for mid-stay cleaning service. The other girls told me they didn’t see a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, so go. And one more thing - no one besides you is allowed to go there. Feel honored or something."
"Okay" I sighed while grabbing clean towels.

I knocked on the door. "Cleaning service!"
Nothing. Silence.
Two more knocks because that was the rule and with no answer, I opened the door with my master key. Headphones on, music in the background, I started humming to myself and walked in.

Inside it was pretty dark, the air heavy and dusty. I checked the bathroom, grabbed the dirty towels, and proceeded into the living room. At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual: a couch with some clothes thrown across it, the TV on but muted. I turned it off, noticed plastic bottles and some papers on the table, tossed them into the garbage bag, glanced around to see if anything was left, and went to the bedroom. At first, I couldn’t see much - it was too dark. Curtains were carelessly drawn, letting in only small rays of sunshine. I opened a window just a bit to let in some fresh air - and froze.
Someone was watching me. I could feel it on my back.
I slowly turned around and gasped.

There he was - a man lying on the bed in nothing but his underwear. I couldn’t help but notice the well-toned muscles, the messy brown curls on his head. His eyes were wide open.

"Oh shit, I can see angels now? I swear, yesterday was the last time" he said, more to himself than to me, I guessed. Then he turned his head, unbothered, and fell asleep, snoring quietly. I stood there, shocked and terrified, not knowing what to do.
Where do I know his voice from? I asked myself.
Without thinking much more, I shook it off and walked closer, wanting to apologize and then run out at the speed of light. But since he was asleep, there wasn’t much I could do.
Poor guy, he’s gonna wake up in pain, I thought. I took some emergency aspirin and a lime-flavored drink with electrolytes and left them on the bedside table. As I was quietly leaving, a thought struck me - so I grabbed two more bottles of water from the trolley and put them in the fridge.

That’s one of the reasons the guests liked me and my work so much; small gestures like this came naturally to me.

I smiled to myself, left the clean towels on the couch, took the garbage, and left quietly, closing the door behind me.
I couldn’t clean properly because the guest was asleep and probably still slightly drunk. Changed towels, took the trash out. I texted my manager.
Come into the office. NOW. I saw on phone screen and almost shit my pants.

"Did you see who he was?" Nina snapped at me as soon as I walked in.
"The attitude, girl? No. It was dark and I wasn’t paying attention and mind you, I was scared shitless."
"Okay, sorry. But please don’t tell a single soul. He’s a VIP guest. He was looking for some place to stay unnoticed and booked a room here. You were the only one allowed there because you’re my best employee. Once again - don’t tell ANYONE." 
"Shoot me" I laughed.
"He’s staying for two more nights, so be prepared."

A long pause.

"It’s Pedro. Freaking. Pascal" She squeaked with excitement and looked me straight in the eyes.
"Fuck" I whispered.

It felt like I had just been hit by a truck. Pedro Pascal. In my hotel. In my room to clean. Out of all the people in the world.

The rest of my shift passed in a blur. I did my rooms on autopilot, answering my coworkers with half-smiles and nods, but my brain was somewhere else entirely. By the time I dragged my trolley back to the basement, my legs felt like jelly.
Finally, I slipped into my own little excuse for a room.
Slammed the door shut.
Dropped my bag.
And then it all came crashing down. My heart was racing so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest. My hands were shaking, my stomach twisted in knots. A million thoughts swirled in my head, colliding, repeating, getting louder and louder. What the hell just happened? Why me? What if I messed up? What if he remembers me? I sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at the wall, terrified and exhilarated at the same time

The next morning hit me like a hangover I hadn’t even earned. After tossing and turning for half the night, I finally drifted off - only to wake up with my head buzzing again.I forced myself under the shower, let the lukewarm water wash away at least part of my panic, and slurped down a sad cup of instant soup. My budget didn’t allow for anything fancier, but it was fuel.

Then off I went to the office. It was the end of the month, which meant signing the attendance sheet before payday. My manager was already there, flipping through some papers, and when she looked up at me, her expression was different. Almost… excited.

"Guess what" she said, practically glowing. "Mr. Pascal came down to reception this morning. He personally requested to leave a tip for the cleaning lady. With side note"

I blinked.
"What?"

Chapter 2: A small backstory

"He left a hundred and fifty dollars. For you. I haven't seen the note but it was tempting to look inside, girl" Nina said with her hand full of cash and little piece of paper extended towards me.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen with the pen in my hand, my signature half-finished on the page. One hundred and fifty dollars. That was almost half my rent. That was food for two weeks. That was… Pedro Pascal noticing me.

My knees felt weak.
The blood drained from my face, my hands trembling as I held the pen. I took it, said thanks to Nina and left.

Thanks from the bottom of my heart. My liver still hates me tho. P. I put the note into my wallet and decided to cherish this piece of paper forever. Maybe I'll even laminate it so it never gets damaged, hell to the yea.
Deep inside, I already knew what I was going to do with that money.

Back when I first came to the States, I had spent a few nights without a roof over my head, dozing off on a bus station bench. That’s when I met Trisha. She didn’t hesitate to help me - showed me the way to a shelter where you could get a bed in exchange for some work in the kitchen or cleaning shifts.Trisha was fighting her own battles then. She was clawing her way out of addiction, trying desperately to find a therapist, but the system didn’t make it easy.
I’d been lucky enough to land the hotel job. She hadn’t. She was still stuck there.

The very moment I got that tip, she was the first person who came to mind. I had the day off, so I sat down in the hotel lobby and dialed her number, asking her to come by for coffee. When she arrived, we took a small table in the corner.

"Listen" I started, my voice low. "I’ve got something for you. Enough for your first therapy session." Her eyes filled with tears instantly.
"No… no, I can’t take this. You need it more than I do. When was the last time you even had a proper meal?"
I smiled, brushing it off.
"Don’t worry. I’ve still got some canned stuff to heat up. I’ll survive. But you? You need this more than I do. And I’m not taking no for an answer."
Trisha cried harder, shaking her head, but in the end, she accepted the money, squeezing my hand so tightly it almost hurt. We talked for about half an hour and decided to leave. We hugged goodbye, and as I watched her going out, my chest warm despite the chaos of the past two days.

What I didn’t know was that someone else had been listening the entire time. Hidden in one of the booth-like alcoves in the lobby, a man in a hoodie had overheard every single word.

Days passed, and I slowly pushed the whole thing to the back of my mind. Work, chores, helping out at the shelter on my free day - it all blurred together. Life went on, as it always does.

Then came Monday. The sun was blazing outside, the heat pouring through the curtains, and I collapsed on my bed after finishing my shift. I pulled out my phone and started mindlessly scrolling through Instagram.
That’s when I froze. There it was - Pedro’s story. A soft, beige background, an image of a little angel feeding tiny animals. The music playing in the background? The same damn melody I had hummed under my breath while cleaning his room. My stomach dropped, my heart hammering against my ribs. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

"Nah, you're just being delusional baby girl" I said to myself out loud and brushed it off. Pretended the Instagram story meant nothing, went on with my week like usual. Work, food, sleep, repeat. The other day after my shift, I was heading toward the exit when I slowed down at the lobby. A woman in glasses, sharp-eyed and serious, was standing by the reception desk.

"I don’t need her insurance details", she said, her voice clipped, "just a name. At least a name"
I froze. The receptionist, looking uncomfortable, shook her head.
"I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any employee’s personal information."

My pulse shot up. My brain screamed run, but my legs walked me closer instead. I swallowed hard and blurted out,
"Excuse me… I work here. Maybe I can help?"
The woman turned, eyes narrowing at me like she was peeling layers of skin off with that gaze. She hesitated, then let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her temple.
"I can’t believe I’m about to ask this", she muttered, almost to herself. Then, louder: "What flavor was the drink left by the bed?"

I didn’t dare say it out loud. Instead, I pulled my phone from my pocket, typed the answer with shaky fingers, and turned the screen toward her.
She snatched it from my hand, brought it close to her face, studied the word for a long moment. Then, without warning, her fingers flew across the screen. A sharp, decisive movement. She shoved the phone back into my hand.
"Send a message to that number at 8 p.m. today. Just a smiley face. Nothing else", Her voice was calm, almost unnervingly so.
She turned back to the receptionist, offered a polite thank you, then faced me again. A smile - small, deliberate - curved her lips as she raised her hand in a casual wave.
"Oh, and tell Trisha I said hi."

The words hit me like a punch. I stood frozen, rooted to the floor, the air knocked out of my lungs.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, I looked down at my phone. A new number saved itself in my mind as Creepy Blondie. I was still staring when the screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call.

Trisha.

Notes:

I hope you've found the story interesting so far.
Let me know if you'd like me to continue.
Sending you some love!