Authors: Eve Carter
“Sorry Jerry. Can’t make it. I’m at a party at the other end of town.” I held the phone up in the air so it would capture the explosive roar from the crowd.
“Listen, Dani.” The phone distorted as his voice rose in a desperate pitch. “You have to come. I’ll make sure you get paid double-time for tonight.”
I pressed my lips into a hard straight line. I didn’t want to go into work on a Friday night, but I needed the money badly.
“Okay, I’ll be there but you owe me big time, Jerry, especially since it is Friday night. This isn’t the first time I’ve jumped when you were in a bind.” I shoved my hand through my long black hair and scanned the place for the exit doors to the outside. “I need to call a cab to get out of here. I’m somewhere in The Bronx. I’m not walking outside alone.”
“Yeah , yeah, yeah. Watch your attitude. I’m still your boss, you know… The Bronx? What the hell are you doing there?”
“That’s really none of your business, Jerry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I ended the call without a goodbye and shoved the phone in my purse, then headed toward Joey and Krissy to let them know I was leaving.
Part of me was glad to get out of this testosterone palace for the night. It was doing unexpected things to my body, churning up hormones I thought I had under control. Another part of me wanted to stay and get a better look at that hot body I had just seen. He was about to fight next, I was sure of. But I couldn’t afford to turn down an extra three-hundred dollars. I dialed the number I had stored in my phone for the cab company. They were not happy about picking me up at this location but after some serious pleading, I was told it would take fifteen minutes for the cab to get here.
I said goodbye to Joey and Krissy, and bee lined it toward the front exit where I waited for the cab. As soon as I heard the familiar sound of a cab horn blaring, I kicked the door open and a blast of the cold night air hit my face as I stepped onto the gum stained sidewalk. Minutes later, safe in the backseat of the cab, I was on my way to the Greymore Hotel.
“Anybody here? We just want a damn room.” A nasally, raspy voice pulled my attention out of the 1920’s and Jay Gatsby’s fashionable mansion on West Egg, New York. I had been reading the assigned chapters of 'The Great Gatsby' for my Lit class, when that particularly annoying voice intruded into my fantasy world. I methodically placed a bookmark in my dog-eared novel then laid it aside and exited the little side office next to the Front Desk at the Greymore Hotel to attend the late night customers. My eyes met a rotund man in a wrinkled grey suit, carrying a small satchel in one hand and had one of the neighborhood hookers attached to his elbow. Not unusual for this place.
I recognized her. I had seen the willowy, blond around here before. She had a sweet face but sad eyes. Why did these girls always wear such dark eye makeup? Cops wear uniforms, custodians wear uniforms. It’s almost like her makeup was part of her work uniform. Well, it was fine by me.
We all had to make a living somehow and my job wasn’t much better, working the night desk at a sleazy hotel, providing the 'work space' for girls like her.
She was a regular at this establishment, bringing her customers here to the hotel away from whatever convention was at the nearest “nice” hotel, away from the all-seeing eyes of fellow conventioneers.
They hadn’t exactly come in quietly. Her piercing, high-pitched laugh announced her presence before she entered the room, and the clack of her high heels on the hard tile floor grated on my nerves as she approached the reception desk. I think her shoes were one size too big, and she drug her feet to avoid losing them as she walked, producing that annoying sound. Who knew what dumpster she pulled those shoes out of, or from what flea market she had acquired them. She certainly didn’t look like the type to be shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue. But who was I to judge? She made a shitload more money than I did working the night-shift at this sordid hotel in the run down part of Manhattan.
I should have hated the job but it suited my needs at this point in my life. Except for the occasional rugged customer, it was mostly quiet during the night. And I needed quiet. It gave me time to study for my classes. I was in my fourth year at Columbia University. All made possible thanks to my scholarship and this job. The wages weren’t great but they were enough to pay my living expenses after my grant money and the dreaded student loans, which I had so aptly accumulated. By the time I graduated and launched myself into the 'real world' with an undergraduate degree in Psychology, I would be sufficiently in debt up to my ears, and there was not much a person could do with only an undergraduate degree in this field of study. Usually, an advanced degree is needed in Psychology to get a job, and the lack of money was keeping my chances of that advanced degree out of reach.
The man must have noticed my stare because he got impatient. “Look, girlie, if it’s too much of an inconvenience, I’ll just grab a key myself. You’ve got a paying customer here.”
“No, no, I’ve got it.” I turned my back on him to search for a key and scowled. It wasn’t too difficult to find an available key on the rack. Not many customers tonight.
I turned around with a key in hand. “How many nights do you need the room, sir?”
“Nights? Are you kidding me? I only need one hour.”
The girl at his side leaned her bare, spindly arms on the counter top and batted her drug-store eyelashes in Mr. Gray Suit’s direction. “Only an hour”? Honey, we need at least two hours. I have plans for you.”
I wondered if she leaned against the counter top because she didn't have enough strength in those skinny legs to hold herself up, or if she was just unbalanced in those oversized shoes. My eyes lingered on the leanness of her upper arms and the boniness of her pale shoulders that showed above a strapless purple dress. Those anorexia shoulders made me want to shove a hamburger in her direction when Mr. Gray Suit wasn’t looking. Poor girl. Having to sleep with this weasel. He was disgusting in his arrogance. Probably didn’t even treat her to a drink first, let alone dinner.
“Yeah, yeah, just give me a room. I’ll pay for one night.” He barked out his demand.
“That will be one-hundred and seventy five dollars for a double, deluxe room. May I see a credit card and ID?”
“What? Isn’t cash any good, no more?”
“Of course. You can pay with cash but I still need a government issued ID.”
“Is this going to take long, sweetie?” The woman twirled a long strand of platinum cotton-candy hair through her fingers. Its texture was dry and lifeless, much like the look in her eyes as she rubbed it between her fingers. It was more like the hair of a child’s doll than human hair. I’d seen it before. All part of the uniform.
“I’ll tell you what girlie, here’s three-hundred dollars and you just hand me a key right now.”
One hundred and twenty-five extra dollars to fill my empty pocket.
I could sure use it. That much money would pay for one college textbook. I looked at his beady eyes and cocky smile. He knew I was going to take it. I deserved a tip, after all, for working the nightshift in a dump like this. Call it hazardous duty pay if you like. I twirled the key and slapped it on the counter.
“Just need your signature here.” I pushed the register toward him with a pen.
He scribbled and shoved it back across the night desk, then grabbed the key in his stubby fingers. I cringed at the thought of those hands caressing her white shoulders. Poor girl.
The chubby man in the gray suit took his small briefcase, and the two of them headed to the elevator. I shook my head and sighed as I punched the keys on the cash register. The till popped open and I made change, and then pocketed my bribe, shoving my guilt down with the money deep into my pocket.
I glanced at the slow ticking clock on the wall.
Great
. One o’clock in the morning. With the arrival of the hooker and friend, it was the beginning of yet another mundane night as a hotel desk clerk at the Greymore Hotel. I brushed it off and returned to my reading assignment, anxious to find out why a girl like Daisy Buchanan never married a boy like Jay Gatsby.
Perching myself on the worn, maroon fabric of the stool in the office next to the front desk, I spread open the pages of my novel, determined to get through several chapters of my reading assignment. The familiar three-tone ‘ding’ from my cell phone interrupted my studies. I checked the screen and stared at a text from Joey.
“Are you busy? Can I call?”
I responded.
“When am I ever busy here at 2am? Why are you still up?”
She called immediately and I noticed the typical heavy sigh of someone who was exasperated. “Dani, you gotta help me out. Can I crash at your place tonight?”
“You’re not home yet? Geez girl.”
“We were just about to leave, when Krissy ran into her old boyfriend and now she wants to bring him home to our apartment. You know I can’t stand that dude. So please, can I sleep at your place tonight?”
I sighed. “Sure, but take the couch. I’m going to need my bed when I come home. I’ll be totally wiped out. You still have the key to my place?”
“Of course. It always stays with me. I never know when I’ll need it.” She laughed. “Oh my God, you missed the best thing of the night. The last fight after you left, was crazy. Luke Romero is badass. When he’s in the ring, he’s loyal to no one but himself, and he’s the definition of supreme confidence. No wonder he wins all of his fights,” Joey said.
“Of course, the one good fight of the night is the one I didn’t get to see,” I laughed, trying to hide the fact that I would live a perfectly happy life if I never got to watch another fight again in my life.
“Well yeah, not my fault you got called into work and missed the fight of the century. I mean, geez Dani, you need to stand up for yourself more. That Jerry boss of yours has you wrapped around his finger.”
“I guess I will just have to live without having seen the ‘fight of the century’. I really need the money and I am not in a position to say no to double pay. We are not all born into wealth, you know.”
“Sorry girl, but you missed out on, not only the fight, but also the hottest guy ever. Luke is to die for. Literally,” she snorted. “Seriously, you should ask that Jerry dude for a raise. Working the nightshift at that rundown hotel is dangerous work. I don’t know how you can do it.”
Joey was right.
Working here at the Greymore Hotel was not the safest job in the world, but I didn’t care. I was used to a rough neighborhood. I grew up in one and this place was like Disneyland in comparison.
I sighed. “Whatever, I’m glad you two had fun. Oh, and by the way, I think I did get a glance at the object of your twisted obsession. Your unobtainable boyfriend.”
“You saw Luke? Where?”
“When I went backstage to pee. It was the only decent restroom in the whole building.”
Oh my God. You are kidding me, Dani. You sneaked backstage and saw Luke? Up close?” Her voiced pitched to a high tone and she practically squealed.
I laughed. I could almost hear Joey panting through the phone. “Well, I didn’t see all of him,” I confessed. “But I did see his toned, naked back rippling with muscles up close as he was lying on a massage table.” I purposefully teased my friend with extra details to make her squirm in her pants. “Yeah, he was getting a massage by one of his female assistants. He had a freaking sweet tattoo on his back, too.”
Joey groaned into the phone, a sound that was a mixture of envy and her vivid imagination of her fighter on that massage table. “A-a-a-h. I can just imagine. Isn’t he just the hottest guy you’ve ever seen?”
“Calm down, calm down…” I giggled. “I didn’t see his face. It was turned away from me.”
“Oh hell no, you didn’t even see his face?”
“No, and I don’t care. You can have him all for yourself, except you’ll have to share him with the millions of other women out there drooling over him.”
“Girl, you have no idea. I could drool over Luke forever. He is
that
hot.”
“Knock yourself out. He is all—”
Someone was shouting. I peered out the door into the lobby.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” echoed through the empty halls of the lobby as the blond hooker in the purple dress from earlier, screamed from inside the elevator as it opened. She was in such a hurry, she nearly jumped out before the doors completely opened, her purse dangling from one of her skinny arms and her cell phone clutched in one hand.
“Gotta run. Call you later,” I said to Joey. I hung up and shoved my cell phone in the pocket of my navy-blue work blazer as I bolted off the old stool and headed toward the elevator doors.
Blondie nearly plowed into me, her eyes were wild and looking even more sunken than before. I put my hand on a bony shoulder to steady her and slow her down a bit.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“He’s fucking dead!” The words came out in a hiss as she tried to keep her voice down and scream from hysteria at the same time. She was obviously shaken and wanted to get out of the place fast.
“Who’s dead? What are you talking about?”
“My customer. The old geezer I was with…” She looked around nervously, her breathing heavy. She ran the back of her hand across her nose and sniffed hard, the tell-tale sign of cocaine use. Her high heels still dangled as she clutched them with white knuckles. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I don’t like this ...”
“Wait, wait. Listen to me.” I tipped my head down to catch her eyes and pull her focus in to me, so she would calm down. Her eyes were dilated. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
“We were having a little party, you know, in the bed after snorting some coke. He had a ton of it. He was all wild and crazy. Totally hyper from snorting the stuff and all out of breath and then…he just stopped. His body got really heavy on me and I was like, ‘Hey, get off me now. You’re crushing me’. He didn’t respond and I finally got out from under him. I noticed that he was getting stiff. I mean, not his…you know, but his body felt stiff. I checked to see if he was breathing but nothing, so I figured he’s fucking dead and I ran out of there.” The instant she finished her story, her eyes darted around the lobby searching for the exit doors to the building.
“Sounds like he maybe had a heart attack. Did you try CPR?”
“Girl. Do I look like a fucking nurse or something? I don’t know any damn CPR. You get up there and give him CPR. I’m out of here.” Her face turned into an angry sneer as she lurched away from me.
“Okay, calm down. I’ll go check and call an ambulance. Stay here and wait for them.”
“Fuck no, girl. I’m leaving. I can’t be mixed up in this.”
Before I could stop her, she made a run for the exit and her skinny, purple clad body was swallowed up by the dark night outside the glass doors.
I spun around on my heels and covered the distance to the elevator in two strides. Pounding the elevator button with one hand, I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket with the other to call 911.