Authors: J. Fields Jr.
“Do you have a cell phone where he can reach you?”
“It’s in my room.”
“May I deliver a message for you, Mr. Allen?”
How much did Rick know about the butler mix-up with
Shannon
?
It didn’t sound like he knew anything about it, or at least, he wasn’t letting on.
Probably Antonio was keeping it confidential.
“No, thanks, Rick.
I’ll call him back later.”
“Very good, sir.
Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?”
“Nope.”
“Let me know if you need anything further.”
“Can I ask you a question about the Sachem Suite?”
Pause.
“Do you have an acquaintance staying in that suite this evening?”
“Antonio introduced us.
As a favor.”
“Ah. Of course.
What is your question, sir?”
“Have you gotten any calls or requests from that room tonight?”
“The gentleman in the suite left some time ago to a private gambling room.
There was a large group of teenage individuals awaiting his arrival.”
“Anything from
Shannon
?”
“No, sir.”
“She didn’t call for me?”
“Uhm.
No, sir.”
There was a thoughtful pause.
“Would you like me to deliver a message to the female occupant of the suite, on your behalf?”
“No!”
Max glanced over his shoulder.
All the waitresses were staring at him.
He turned back towards the wall.
“No thanks.”
“Very well, sir.
Call me again if you require anything further.”
“Will do.”
Max hung up the phone and turned around.
They were holding up his suit jacket.
Cell phone girl, who he was pretty sure was named
Shannon
and he hadn’t imagined it, said, “Smells better now.
You’re new huh?”
“Very.”
He said, slipping his arms into the sleeves.
She patted his shoulders while another buttoned his jacket.
“Have you seen
Brandon
?”
“Who?”
That made her laugh.
“There’s only
one
silly.”
She shimmied her shoulders.
Her breasts jiggled in their restraints.
“You sexy bitch, you wanna
ditch
, yo man for me…”
For a second Max hadn’t realized she was singing a song.
His neck grew hot again.
One of the waitresses, who he hadn’t noticed had stepped into the ballroom, came back through the door with a tray of empty champagne flutes.
“Hey Max, one of the poker players is outside the door asking for you.”
Cash had doubled-back.
“Is there a back way out?”
They all stared at him, confused.
“Are you off duty?”
“Oh.”
He was a butler.
Right.
“No, not yet.
Okay.
Thanks.”
On his way out one of them patted him on the back.
“Welcome to the team.
See ya around.”
Another shouted, “If you get
Brandon
’s autograph let us know!”
In the ballroom the noise of talk and laughter filled his ears.
The crowd undulated back and forth.
He looked around for Cash.
At least Cash could find a way out of here.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned.
She was wearing wraparound sunglasses, a white cowboy hat and a thigh-length leather coat.
Her legs were bare and she was wearing a pair of white slippers.
They looked like the slippers he’d given Shannon Moon.
And the legs looked like the legs he’d seen on Shannon Moon.
And that hat looked like the ten-gallon hat he’d left with Shannon Moon.
“Thank God,” said the lady, in a voice that sounded just like Shannon Moon’s.
She pushed into him, her hands running up the lapels of his jacket.
“I thought I’d never find you.”
Max rubbed his eyes.
This wasn’t champagne.
This was real.
Then tears began running out from underneath
Shannon
’s sunglasses and before he could stop himself, he wrapped her in his arms.
Chapter Nineteen
“Get me out of here, Max,” she pleaded.
He looked around helplessly and tried to find a break in the tuxedos.
It felt like everyone must be looking at them from underneath their hats.
He half expected a flock of photographers to zoom over the crowd at them, swinging from stuntman wires, cameras blazing.
Shannon
sniffled from somewhere far below.
What would Antonio do?
He must be an expert at VIP emergency evacuations.
Max tried arching his eyebrow like Antonio did when he was thinking, but both of his eyebrows jumped at once and bumped into each other like they were confused.
“We’re going,” he said firmly.
Visualize, vocalize and energize.
That’s what his therapist used to tell him.
First see the solution…damn.
He was going in the wrong order by vocalizing first.
“Max,” she said.
He knew that
Shannon
being recognized would be horrible.
She was crying, in the arms of a poker player, wearing not much of anything, really.
Luckily the room was full of women like that, hanging off the shoulders of the other male poker players, except for the crying part.
He had a horrible feeling she’d been attacked somehow.
Maybe a crazy photographer.
Hadn’t Antonio mentioned something about that?
Somehow the crowd had pooled around them and they were encircled.
Max reached down and adjusted her hat to block her face, tilting it to the side a bit.
He caught a glimpse of her wet cheek pressed against his tuxedo shirt and felt a strange surge of feeling well up inside him.
He held her closer, having to protect her now.
“We’re going this way.
Walk like we’re cuddling, maybe a little drunk.
Don’t look up, just follow my footsteps.
It’ll work because I’m a little drunk.”
“Okay,” she said.
He maneuvered them through a double-wall of partiers with a combination of forceful pressure and indifference.
He found the back wall of the ballroom and kept his shoulder to it as he ushered her, closely, along the thin path between crowd and outer wall.
Her leg brushed up against his, and twice he felt her slipper slide across the top of his foot.
They performed this awkward tango until he found the pantry door again.
Inside there was only one cocktail waitress left, apparently finishing her cell phone conversation.
She looked over her shoulder and saw Max enter with
Shannon
in his arms.
Her expression was a combination of helpfulness and suspicion.
“What’s wrong –who’s that?”
Max walked past her to the back door of the pantry.
“A player, she’s not feeling well.”
“Want me to call the EMTs?”
“No,” said Max, pushing through the back door and urging
Shannon
through with a hand on her back.
“They’re meeting us back here.
Just don’t let anybody come this way for a little while, okay?”
She nodded.
“Got it,” then went back to her call.
“Nothing, just a butler.
Some player got drunk or something.”
Just before exiting Max grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins off the countertop.
In the outer hall he paused, almost wrapping his arms back around
Shannon
.
When he seemed unsure what to do, she walked to him, bumping flat against his chest and sighing.
He put his arm across her back, handed her the napkins.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Where are we?”
“Employee hallway.”
He glanced around and saw a bulletin board, a lot of closed doors with security glass, some directional signage and a poster about benefits enrollment on a door marked Satellite Benefits Office.
“It’s where we sign up for benefits,” he said.
“Satellite office.”
“Can we go in there and sit down?”
Max stepped over to the door and tugged the handles.
“Locked.
Come on, one of these doors has to be open.”
They turned a corner and found a hallway packed with rolling cages full of beer, wine and champagne, each of them chained and padlocked.
There was a heavy smell of liquor, and some areas of the tiled floor were sticky.
Just past the cages he saw a janitor’s utility cart outside an open office.
On the side of the plastic cart the words INTERIOR SERVICES were stenciled.
“Wait right here.”
Max turned and looked at
Shannon
.
She gave him a weak smile.
He gently tugged the front of the hat down a bit more before going into the open office.
Desk, flat panel computer monitor and keyboard, ergonomic office chair, filing cabinet, a large photograph of the ballroom at maximum capacity, a sea of heads and upraised glasses beneath a digital caption reading New Year’s Eve 2007.
There was an inner doorway to the right, and this is where the cleaning attendant emerged, dressed in a yellow zippered shirt, black pants, a bushy moustache and a startled expression.
He exclaimed, “Oh!”
“Sorry,” said Max.
“Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“S’okay,” said the man.
His nametag read JULIO.
“Can I use this office for a minute?
She’s not feeling well,” said Max, gesturing to
Shannon
in the doorway.
“Jess,” said Julio, nodding.
He eyeballed the tuxedo.
“You working here?”
“Jess – I mean yes.
I’m a butler.”
“S’okay,” he said, and then looked at
Shannon
.
“She puking?”
“No.
Just a little…upset.”
“Ah.”
He slid past
Shannon
and rattled some things around in his cart before pushing it away.
Shannon
walked in and shut the door behind her.
“Thanks, Max.”