Connie
Atkinson marched into the restaurant of the Wesley Hotel in downtown Detroit, a
frown etched into her face. She was in need of a glass of wine, preferably something
dark to match her mood. She cleared her throat to signal the hostess stationed
at the entrance.
The young
woman didn’t move, seemingly more interested in twirling the heavily
highlighted tendrils of her blonde ponytail around her fingers and batting her
eyelashes at the admiring bartender than acting as a hostess. Connie cleared
her throat again.
No response.
“Miss!” She
stomped her booted heel so that it echoed causing several patrons to lift their
otherwise disinterested heads in her direction.
Goldilocks
looked at her with an air of annoyance and straightened the rounded band of
what must be the hotel’s required uniform. Connie doubted that the young woman
would have opted for the white lacy collar and contrasting light-weight pale green
blouse on a blustery Friday night.
“Table for
one?” Goldi grabbed a menu and turned toward a tiny table near the bar.
“I want the
booth by the window.”
Goldi spun
around and twisted her mouth into a condescending grin. “Booths are reserved
for parties of three or more.”
“Then I’d like
to speak to your manager,” Connie said icily. Having worked in the service
industry to pay her way through college and law school, she knew that there
were rules employees followed. However after being grounded in Detroit and
missing the first four hours of her vacation in Vail, she was in no mood to be
amenable.
Goldi blinked
back in astonishment. In a room full of business travelers, mostly male, Connie
doubted that the hostess had met with an ounce of resistance to her clipped orders.
“That won’t be
necessary.” Goldi dipped her head, offering an insincere smile. “Right this
way.”
Connie quickly
followed Goldi’s long strides to the bay of large windows surrounding several
unoccupied circular booths. Sweetie, you can’t outpace me , she thought
stifling a laugh.
Slipping around
the edge of a black lacquered table, she bounced down on the springy pink
leather cushions. The view was the saving grace of the Wesley – the lights of downtown
Detroit twinkled in a swirling white haze. Tiny pockets of snow glistened in
the nooks and crannies of the beveled glass and a soft whistle of wind floated
around her like the melody from a much loved piano. The perfect backdrop for
relaxing in front of a roaring fire in the lounge of the Mountain Lion Resort
and Spa…in Vail.
Tonight she
should have been enjoying all the luxuries that the villa-inspired resort had
to offer including a private masseuse and a slice of the decadent Death by
Chocolate triple tiered cake topped with mocha ganache. Instead she would have
to endure a meal in the cavernous dining hall sparsely outfitted with cafeteria
style tables and darkening cream walls lined with artwork reminiscent of the
Miami Vice era. “Ugh,” she groaned. “May I have a wine list, please?”
Connie looked
up to notice a quick roll of the young woman’s eyes. Well, at least the Wesley
has fantastic service.
Pulling out
her phone, she speed dialed Jessica. After a few rings, Jessica answered with a
snorting laugh. Then there was a metallic clang followed by muffled, garbled
noises.
Those
bitches are already drunk .
“So you think
you’ll get here tomorrow?” Monique finally retrieved the phone from a fumbling Jessica.
“Weather
reports are saying that planes can leave mid-morning to early afternoon so I
should be there sometime tomorrow.” In the background, she could hear music,
Jessica’s tinny giggle, and a man’s husky laugh. Connie sighed involuntarily.
Where was
Goldi with her drink menu?
“Well you
better get here. ‘Cause they’re gonna find this heifer during the spring thaw.
She acts like this is her first…”
“Connie, these
guysss… from Brasssil bought us drinthks. They are sooo…” Jessica’s words
slurred
Atkinson marched into the restaurant of the Wesley Hotel in downtown Detroit, a
frown etched into her face. She was in need of a glass of wine, preferably something
dark to match her mood. She cleared her throat to signal the hostess stationed
at the entrance.
The young
woman didn’t move, seemingly more interested in twirling the heavily
highlighted tendrils of her blonde ponytail around her fingers and batting her
eyelashes at the admiring bartender than acting as a hostess. Connie cleared
her throat again.
No response.
“Miss!” She
stomped her booted heel so that it echoed causing several patrons to lift their
otherwise disinterested heads in her direction.
Goldilocks
looked at her with an air of annoyance and straightened the rounded band of
what must be the hotel’s required uniform. Connie doubted that the young woman
would have opted for the white lacy collar and contrasting light-weight pale green
blouse on a blustery Friday night.
“Table for
one?” Goldi grabbed a menu and turned toward a tiny table near the bar.
“I want the
booth by the window.”
Goldi spun
around and twisted her mouth into a condescending grin. “Booths are reserved
for parties of three or more.”
“Then I’d like
to speak to your manager,” Connie said icily. Having worked in the service
industry to pay her way through college and law school, she knew that there
were rules employees followed. However after being grounded in Detroit and
missing the first four hours of her vacation in Vail, she was in no mood to be
amenable.
Goldi blinked
back in astonishment. In a room full of business travelers, mostly male, Connie
doubted that the hostess had met with an ounce of resistance to her clipped orders.
“That won’t be
necessary.” Goldi dipped her head, offering an insincere smile. “Right this
way.”
Connie quickly
followed Goldi’s long strides to the bay of large windows surrounding several
unoccupied circular booths. Sweetie, you can’t outpace me , she thought
stifling a laugh.
Slipping around
the edge of a black lacquered table, she bounced down on the springy pink
leather cushions. The view was the saving grace of the Wesley – the lights of downtown
Detroit twinkled in a swirling white haze. Tiny pockets of snow glistened in
the nooks and crannies of the beveled glass and a soft whistle of wind floated
around her like the melody from a much loved piano. The perfect backdrop for
relaxing in front of a roaring fire in the lounge of the Mountain Lion Resort
and Spa…in Vail.
Tonight she
should have been enjoying all the luxuries that the villa-inspired resort had
to offer including a private masseuse and a slice of the decadent Death by
Chocolate triple tiered cake topped with mocha ganache. Instead she would have
to endure a meal in the cavernous dining hall sparsely outfitted with cafeteria
style tables and darkening cream walls lined with artwork reminiscent of the
Miami Vice era. “Ugh,” she groaned. “May I have a wine list, please?”
Connie looked
up to notice a quick roll of the young woman’s eyes. Well, at least the Wesley
has fantastic service.
Pulling out
her phone, she speed dialed Jessica. After a few rings, Jessica answered with a
snorting laugh. Then there was a metallic clang followed by muffled, garbled
noises.
Those
bitches are already drunk .
“So you think
you’ll get here tomorrow?” Monique finally retrieved the phone from a fumbling Jessica.
“Weather
reports are saying that planes can leave mid-morning to early afternoon so I
should be there sometime tomorrow.” In the background, she could hear music,
Jessica’s tinny giggle, and a man’s husky laugh. Connie sighed involuntarily.
Where was
Goldi with her drink menu?
“Well you
better get here. ‘Cause they’re gonna find this heifer during the spring thaw.
She acts like this is her first…”
“Connie, these
guysss… from Brasssil bought us drinthks. They are sooo…” Jessica’s words
slurred
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