Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Thanks, man.” I headed to the elevators with the porter dragging his luggage cart behind me.
When we stepped off the elevator and turned right, I sucked in a breath. At the very end of the hall was a set of fancy double doors, intricately carved and painted a creamy robin’s egg blue. “That’s my room?” I directed the question at no one, because I still wasn’t sure if my cardboard porter could even speak, but he surprised me when a mouthful of words came tumbling out.
“That’s more than a room,” he told me. “It’s like a small apartment, really. There are two on each floor, except for the top floor. No guest rooms up there— only Mr. Santori and Mr. Kage live up there.”
“Oh.” We stepped up to the double doors, and I stood there like I was afraid to go in.
“This isn’t the biggest or the fanciest hotel around, but Mr. Santori keeps it nice,” the porter said.
“It looks pretty nice to me,” I admitted, the reverent tone in my voice giving away my lack of sophistication.
The porter laughed. “Son, this is Vegas. The idea here is bigger, better, brighter, flashier, louder… That’s why I like the Alcazar. Mr. Santori knows about taste and restraint. Stick around Vegas long enough, you’ll get sick of flashy.”
He plucked the key card out of my hand and opened the doors for me, stepping aside so that I could enter my new temporary home. To say I was stunned would be an understatement. The robin’s egg blue from the door was part of the color scheme within, but it was combined with a subdued palette of white and cream that was more Architectural Digest than Vegas strip. No gold lamé or heart-shaped hot tub here. A large window revealed the breathtaking Vegas skyline in a way I never thought I’d see it— from my own place.
Yeah, this was only going to be my place for a few months, but I figured it counted anyway.
With the porter standing just behind me, I took in the view, noting that my mouth was hanging askew but not bothering to fix it. This room deserved a slack jaw.
“What’s your name?” I asked, feeling like I needed to either speak to the guy or send him on his way.
“Charles, sir.” He sounded like one of those 1940’s movie butlers. His face was gaunt and sallow, more suited to a wino than a butler, but his posture was ramrod straight. I got the distinct impression that Charles was less about putting on airs and more about doing his job properly. After all, who wanted a sloppy porter? I liked him instantly.
“I’m supposed to tip you, right?” I asked.
“If you like,” he said easily.
“Uh…” I reached into the pocket of my jeans and fished out a wadded up receipt from the airport coffee shop and a small pill of dryer lint.
Charles chuckled and held up a hand to stop me. “I have plenty of receipts and lint in my own pocket. Maybe next time? Vegas is one of those places where it’s a good idea to carry a little cash in the pocket at all times.” He winked at me, putting me instantly at ease. I told myself I’d give him double next time, though double of what, I wasn’t sure.
After Charles was gone, I made sure the door was locked and secured, then I ran across the living area and jumped onto the white leather sofa. I stared up at the high ceiling, and at the large picture window, and wondered what I had done to rate this kind of summer. Hell, even if the job sucked, the hotel suite alone was worth the trip.
I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and started taking pictures, flitting from one place to another like an excited kid. I snapped pictures of the living room, the view, and the king sized bed. The bedroom wasn’t actually a separate room, but the bed was situated on a large platform that distinguished it from the living area. The bathroom looked like a spa, with tumbled stone tiles, a glass sink and shower, and a stack of custom soaps that resembled river rocks. I took a picture of those and immediately texted a slide show of my new digs to my mother.
“Wow,” she texted back. “When did my little boy get so fancy?”
“Today,” I replied.
“How is the job?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet. Just got here, Ma.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, keep me posted. Love you. P.S. Are those rocks on your counter?”
I laughed out loud and decided not to reply. Let her wonder. It made things more exciting.
The first night passed quietly. I opted not to go out. No reason to go anywhere when I had a great place, room service, and a seventy-inch wall-mounted LCD. I could even see the TV from the bed, which was a plus when porn time rolled around. I rented Huge Pom-Poms 2, and after I fast-forwarded over the credits and the intro scene, the next twelve minutes were absolutely fascinating. Then I went to sleep with a smile on my face.