college
before finally coming to The Preminenza. Even the worst of them – tending bar
her last year of college at a dingy little dive called The Golden Hammock –
hadn't been enough to make her consider prostitution.
“And there's your key, Mr. Jones,” Jennifer bit back a sigh. She really
wondered who they thought they were fooling. The sheer volumes of Smiths and
Joneses on the books were laughable.
“Thank you, Jennifer,” the elderly gentleman winked at her as he slid
his arm around his “date's” waist. The woman rolled her eyes so that only
Jennifer could see and allowed the man to lead her to the elevators.
Jennifer watched the last of her guests make their way to the elevators
and glanced at the clock. Eleven fifteen. Things would be quiet now. She might
have another person come in before the end of her shift at midnight, but it was
doubtful. She glanced towards the lobby doors and waited.
After a quarter of an hour, she decided that it was safe to step away
from the front desk. She didn't do it often, but whenever she had the chance,
she liked to take advantage of the grand piano that sat just a few feet away in
the lobby. She sat down on the bench and let her fingers rest on the keys. She
closed her eyes, savoring the moment. It had been too long since she'd had the
chance to play. The last few days, she'd had enough paperwork to keep her busy
until midnight so she'd hadn't had the opportunity.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She pressed her fingers
down and let the music flow through her hands. Chopin. She'd seen one of her
favorite actors playing the piece on screen and instantly fell in love with it.
She'd gotten over her childhood crush, but still loved the music. Every time
she played it, her affection for it grew.
The music enveloped her, moving her beyond the lobby, away from the
chaos of her life, away from Brad and their hideous disaster of a relationship,
away from this job where she'd never get a promotion. When she was playing, she
could be anyone, anywhere. A whole new person with a better life and without
any baggage. She let the music take her away, enjoyed the freedom that came
with it. Her piano teacher had said that she had a heart and soul for music.
All she knew was that the only time she felt like she understood her life, why
she was there and what it all meant, was when she was playing. She didn't have
to worry that she wasn't good enough or pretty enough or what anyone else
thought about her. It was just her and the music.
The last crisp note faded away and Jennifer gave a contented sigh. Her
anxieties had drifted away with the final notes. She breathed a little easier.
Maybe tonight she could sleep.
Suddenly, a sound cut through the new silence. Jennifer jumped,
startled. She turned, heart stopping at the sight of an impeccably dressed and
clean-cut man clapping. He leaned back in one of the hotel’s plush chairs. He
had thick dirty blond hair and one of those faces that made guessing his age
virtually impossible. His green eyes were intelligent, his gaze admiring.
“That was quite lovely.” His voice was smooth, with just the right hint
of warmth to be attractive without the feeling of an ulterior motive.
“Thank you,” Jennifer got to her feet, nearly stumbling. The man's
sudden appearance had thrown her.
“While I appreciate the show, I would like to check in, if it's not too
much trouble.” He flashed her a charming smile.
“I'm so sorry,” she apologized as she hurried back to the desk.
The man waved his hand. “Not a problem. Like I said, I enjoyed the show.” He
stood, straightened his jacket and then sauntered towards her with the
confidence of a man who was used to being watched.
“Even so, sir, I apologize for not being at the desk.” Jennifer was
vaguely aware that she sounded like a simpering idiot, but she was unable to
stop herself. If this man complained to her boss, she was screwed. What
before finally coming to The Preminenza. Even the worst of them – tending bar
her last year of college at a dingy little dive called The Golden Hammock –
hadn't been enough to make her consider prostitution.
“And there's your key, Mr. Jones,” Jennifer bit back a sigh. She really
wondered who they thought they were fooling. The sheer volumes of Smiths and
Joneses on the books were laughable.
“Thank you, Jennifer,” the elderly gentleman winked at her as he slid
his arm around his “date's” waist. The woman rolled her eyes so that only
Jennifer could see and allowed the man to lead her to the elevators.
Jennifer watched the last of her guests make their way to the elevators
and glanced at the clock. Eleven fifteen. Things would be quiet now. She might
have another person come in before the end of her shift at midnight, but it was
doubtful. She glanced towards the lobby doors and waited.
After a quarter of an hour, she decided that it was safe to step away
from the front desk. She didn't do it often, but whenever she had the chance,
she liked to take advantage of the grand piano that sat just a few feet away in
the lobby. She sat down on the bench and let her fingers rest on the keys. She
closed her eyes, savoring the moment. It had been too long since she'd had the
chance to play. The last few days, she'd had enough paperwork to keep her busy
until midnight so she'd hadn't had the opportunity.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She pressed her fingers
down and let the music flow through her hands. Chopin. She'd seen one of her
favorite actors playing the piece on screen and instantly fell in love with it.
She'd gotten over her childhood crush, but still loved the music. Every time
she played it, her affection for it grew.
The music enveloped her, moving her beyond the lobby, away from the
chaos of her life, away from Brad and their hideous disaster of a relationship,
away from this job where she'd never get a promotion. When she was playing, she
could be anyone, anywhere. A whole new person with a better life and without
any baggage. She let the music take her away, enjoyed the freedom that came
with it. Her piano teacher had said that she had a heart and soul for music.
All she knew was that the only time she felt like she understood her life, why
she was there and what it all meant, was when she was playing. She didn't have
to worry that she wasn't good enough or pretty enough or what anyone else
thought about her. It was just her and the music.
The last crisp note faded away and Jennifer gave a contented sigh. Her
anxieties had drifted away with the final notes. She breathed a little easier.
Maybe tonight she could sleep.
Suddenly, a sound cut through the new silence. Jennifer jumped,
startled. She turned, heart stopping at the sight of an impeccably dressed and
clean-cut man clapping. He leaned back in one of the hotel’s plush chairs. He
had thick dirty blond hair and one of those faces that made guessing his age
virtually impossible. His green eyes were intelligent, his gaze admiring.
“That was quite lovely.” His voice was smooth, with just the right hint
of warmth to be attractive without the feeling of an ulterior motive.
“Thank you,” Jennifer got to her feet, nearly stumbling. The man's
sudden appearance had thrown her.
“While I appreciate the show, I would like to check in, if it's not too
much trouble.” He flashed her a charming smile.
“I'm so sorry,” she apologized as she hurried back to the desk.
The man waved his hand. “Not a problem. Like I said, I enjoyed the show.” He
stood, straightened his jacket and then sauntered towards her with the
confidence of a man who was used to being watched.
“Even so, sir, I apologize for not being at the desk.” Jennifer was
vaguely aware that she sounded like a simpering idiot, but she was unable to
stop herself. If this man complained to her boss, she was screwed. What
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