so…okay.”
She hangs up the phone.
“He’s coming down.”
“Thank you,” Ron says. “Now we were hoping you might have some other good news for us.”
“Like what?”
“We’ve had a really rough evening, and we need a…”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, we’re booked.”
“I’ll pay double. Triple. I don’t—”
“Sir, what do you want me to do? Kick someone out? I’m sorry, there’s no vacancy.”
-13-
They sit in the leather sofa by the fireplace, Ron holding Jessica, running his fingers through her hair, thinking they should be sitting in this lobby under completely different circumstances, cuddling by the fire with glasses of wine, musing on what the future has in store. In those rare moments when his mind cleared of all the things he needed to do, he’d come close to admitting to himself that despite all the money he and Jessica were accumulating, they were sacrificing the primes of their lives—him for the superrich and the ultra-shallow, that elite class who could drop seventy-grand to buff a few dents out of their noses, Jessica for faceless pharmaceutical companies in pursuit of the next billion-dollar drug. Between the ninety-hour workweeks and all the Saturdays in the office, even in those fleeting idle moments, he had to remind himself to look around and enjoy what he had, to tell himself how good he had it—the Lotus, the collection of ancient single malts, the four point two million dollar view of the Valley from his Mulholland mansion.
“I’m gonna need something for the pain,” Jessica whimpers.
“Soon as we talk with the sheriff, we’ll head down to the Benz. I’ve got Lortab in my suitcase. Jess, can you hang here on your own for just a second?”
“Why?”
“I want to go upstairs and check on something.”
“Please hurry back.”
He moves through the empty lobby, the walls adorned with stuffed, dead animals—an elk head over the hearth flanked by coyotes, a large brown bear standing on its hind legs, encased in glass, birds of prey frozen in mid-flight from wires in the ceiling.
Ron takes the steps to the second floor two at a time, emerging into a long corridor warmed by light from faux-lanterns mounted to the wall between the doors.
He walks a third of the way down the corridor and stops.
He approaches the nearest door, leans in, his ear pressed against the wood, hears only the bass throb of his heart.
Three rooms down, he drops to his knees and looks through the slit between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor—darkness.
He stands, knocks on the door, no answer.
Goes to the next door and knocks even harder.
Pounds on the third.
“ Is anyone on this floor? ” he shouts.
-14-
The desk clerk glances up as Ron storms over.
“You wanna tell me what the hell’s wrong with you?”
Her eyes widen and she sets her book down spine-up and rises out of her chair. Short, heavy, late-fiftyish, her big eyes magnified through the thick lenses.
“I don’t care for that tone of voice even a little—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you don’t care for. I just came down from the second floor. It’s empty.”
“No, it’s not.”
A noise like a distant explosion briefly derails Ron’s train of thought.
“The rooms are all empty and dark.”
Jessica rises from the couch, coming toward them now.
“Did it occur to you that our guests are sleeping? Or perhaps having a late dinner out?”
“Every single one of them? Why won’t you give us a room? What have we done to you to—”
“I told you. I don’t have any rooms available.”
Jessica reaches the front desk, stands beside Ron, says, “What’s going on?” with her swollen lisp.
“They’re fucking with us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Baby, I just walked up to the second floor. There isn’t a single room occupied.”
Jessica focuses a smoldering gaze on the clerk. “Is that
She hangs up the phone.
“He’s coming down.”
“Thank you,” Ron says. “Now we were hoping you might have some other good news for us.”
“Like what?”
“We’ve had a really rough evening, and we need a…”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, we’re booked.”
“I’ll pay double. Triple. I don’t—”
“Sir, what do you want me to do? Kick someone out? I’m sorry, there’s no vacancy.”
-13-
They sit in the leather sofa by the fireplace, Ron holding Jessica, running his fingers through her hair, thinking they should be sitting in this lobby under completely different circumstances, cuddling by the fire with glasses of wine, musing on what the future has in store. In those rare moments when his mind cleared of all the things he needed to do, he’d come close to admitting to himself that despite all the money he and Jessica were accumulating, they were sacrificing the primes of their lives—him for the superrich and the ultra-shallow, that elite class who could drop seventy-grand to buff a few dents out of their noses, Jessica for faceless pharmaceutical companies in pursuit of the next billion-dollar drug. Between the ninety-hour workweeks and all the Saturdays in the office, even in those fleeting idle moments, he had to remind himself to look around and enjoy what he had, to tell himself how good he had it—the Lotus, the collection of ancient single malts, the four point two million dollar view of the Valley from his Mulholland mansion.
“I’m gonna need something for the pain,” Jessica whimpers.
“Soon as we talk with the sheriff, we’ll head down to the Benz. I’ve got Lortab in my suitcase. Jess, can you hang here on your own for just a second?”
“Why?”
“I want to go upstairs and check on something.”
“Please hurry back.”
He moves through the empty lobby, the walls adorned with stuffed, dead animals—an elk head over the hearth flanked by coyotes, a large brown bear standing on its hind legs, encased in glass, birds of prey frozen in mid-flight from wires in the ceiling.
Ron takes the steps to the second floor two at a time, emerging into a long corridor warmed by light from faux-lanterns mounted to the wall between the doors.
He walks a third of the way down the corridor and stops.
He approaches the nearest door, leans in, his ear pressed against the wood, hears only the bass throb of his heart.
Three rooms down, he drops to his knees and looks through the slit between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor—darkness.
He stands, knocks on the door, no answer.
Goes to the next door and knocks even harder.
Pounds on the third.
“ Is anyone on this floor? ” he shouts.
-14-
The desk clerk glances up as Ron storms over.
“You wanna tell me what the hell’s wrong with you?”
Her eyes widen and she sets her book down spine-up and rises out of her chair. Short, heavy, late-fiftyish, her big eyes magnified through the thick lenses.
“I don’t care for that tone of voice even a little—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you don’t care for. I just came down from the second floor. It’s empty.”
“No, it’s not.”
A noise like a distant explosion briefly derails Ron’s train of thought.
“The rooms are all empty and dark.”
Jessica rises from the couch, coming toward them now.
“Did it occur to you that our guests are sleeping? Or perhaps having a late dinner out?”
“Every single one of them? Why won’t you give us a room? What have we done to you to—”
“I told you. I don’t have any rooms available.”
Jessica reaches the front desk, stands beside Ron, says, “What’s going on?” with her swollen lisp.
“They’re fucking with us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Baby, I just walked up to the second floor. There isn’t a single room occupied.”
Jessica focuses a smoldering gaze on the clerk. “Is that
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