I drove six hours to check into my new luxury resort, only for the front desk clerk to toss a keycard at my feet.

guest,” I replied, keeping my voice level. The exhaustion from the drive was rapidly evaporating, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and extracted my California driver’s license. I placed it gently on the polished wood counter, sliding it forward. “The reservation is under Martin. First name, Lauren. It continue reading …