Authors: J. Fields Jr.
The green light had gone off.
The security officer stared at him.
“Are you ready now?”
“Ready.”
“Really really ready?”
The man looked and sounded annoyed.
“Just swipe me in.
I’m going in this time.”
He swiped the key through the lock.
Green light.
Click.
“Wait,” said
Shannon
.
“Can you get my suitcase too?
I don’t want to go back in there, even tomorrow.”
“How will I explain
that
if he sees me?”
“How are you going to explain taking my purse?”
“Good point.
Stop chewing your nails.”
“Damn him.
This is stupid.
I should just march in there and get my stuff.”
“No, it’s okay.
We’ll send someone in for your suitcase tomorrow.
I’ll just step inside, grab your purse, and come right back out.”
The security officer cleared his throat.
“Do you want
me
to do it?”
Shannon
raised her eyebrows.
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea.”
Max glared at the man.
“I’m going in.”
The officer shrugged.
“I could’ve been in and out by now.”
Max frowned at him.
“Do you think you’re acting in a respectable manner considering the fact that you are standing at post in the villas, not to mention speaking with a VIP guest and her escort?”
The officer blinked at him.
So did
Shannon
.
Finally the man said, “I was only trying to help.”
Max held out his hand.
“Give me the key, sir.
I won’t be able to leave with it since you’re standing right here, but under the circumstances I think it would be best if you stand
over there
until we’re finished inside the suite.”
The man placed the key into Max’s hand.
“I apologize.
I’m working overtime, guess I’m a little tired.”
“Apology accepted,” said Max.
The security officer walked away, looking over his shoulder until Max nodded at him.
Then the man turned and pressed his back to the wall, hands at his sides, facing forward.
Shannon
leaned in close to Max and whispered, “That was so hot.”
Max was a little stunned.
“I sounded just like Antonio.”
“He must have trained you well.”
“I guess he did.”
He poised the key near the lock on the double doors.
“Couch.
Purse.
Back out.”
“You want me to count to three?”
“No, that reminds me of a police raid.”
“How about
on your mark
?”
“I think I’m just going to go in.”
She patted his upper arm.
“Good plan.”
Max swiped the key, turned the handle, pushed open the door, stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him.
He instantly felt like a burglar.
The foyer light was off but there were a couple small lamps turned on in the sitting area.
He could see some of the leather sectional.
A club chair.
The twenty foot high glass windows framed a dark
Connecticut
night with a faraway moon in a splash of stars.
There was no sound whatsoever besides his own breathing, so he held his breath.
Still no sound.
No
Brandon
, oh
Brandon
.
No grunting.
Guess the guy wasn’t in the middle of one of his famous marathon sexcapades after all.
He took a very slow, very calculated step forward.
His heel clicked on the marble floor.
He took another step, this time sliding his foot forward.
Then his foot kept sliding.
His other leg reacted by springing backwards to counterbalance.
In seconds he was performing a very awkward, painfully slow split in the center of the marble foyer with no idea how to stop himself.
He tilted sideways and folded his back leg underneath.
His right hand slapped down onto the marble.
He stayed that way, listening for a reaction.
Finally he pushed himself back upright and stood panting silently.
He had to relax.
He had to just do it and get out of here.
On either side of the foyer were the curving stairwells that led up to the second floor.
He would have to pass underneath the balcony to get the purse, and for some reason he envisioned
Brandon
up there with a sniper rifle.
Or more realistically, his .45 automatic.
Just coming in to do turndown service, sir.
Wow that sounded lame, even inside his head, where he could make things sound good if he really tried.
From the hallway he heard
Shannon
hiss through the door.
“What’s taking so long?”
He rolled his eyes and stepped backwards.
Leaning towards the crack in the middle of the double doors he whispered, “I’m getting my bearings.”
The door suddenly opened and smacked him in the forehead.
Shannon
grabbed his arm.
“Sorry.”
He rubbed his head.
“Shh.”
She lowered her voice.
“Are you okay?”
“I said I’m getting my bearings.”
“I thought you said
I’m getting your earrings.
”
“Why would I say that?”
“That’s why I opened the door.
I don’t need any earrings.”
Max pushed on the door.
“I’ll be right out.”
“Okay.
Sorry.”
“It’s okay.
Shh.”
“Shh.”
“No
you
shh.”
“I’m shushing.”
He shut the door.
He didn’t even have to ask himself what Antonio would do, because Antonio would already have the purse, and probably all Shannon’s luggage, perfectly packed, and would have grabbed a flower from the arrangement on the way out the door and presented it all to her with a flourish in the safety of the hallway.
He straightened his spine, smoothed down his shirt front, buttoned up his jacket and strode purposefully across the marble foyer aiming for the leather sectional.
Ah-ha. There was the purse.
He tucked it under his arm, pivoted, and someone called out from the balcony overhead.
Max froze.
Baby, you up?
That was what
Brandon
had called out from somewhere overhead.
At least he assumed it was
Brandon
.
How many men could be in here?
Considering that he counted as one extra that was probably a legitimate question.
Fighting the urge to bolt, Max looked up to the balcony and saw total darkness and not a single gun barrel pointing at him.
He took a step to his left and turned out the nearest lamp, which didn’t click as loudly as he’d imagined it would.
Now as he stood listening for footsteps and wondering if he should cross the heel-echoing marble foyer and open the door and leave, a door opened somewhere upstairs and a sheet of bright light slapped against the second floor wall behind the balcony.
Brandon
called out again, but this time the voice was moving.
“Baby, that you?”
Max turned and scanned the living room.
What had once appeared to be a pleasing arrangement of furniture was now a labyrinth beyond his comprehension.
He hoisted himself over the back of the leather sectional.
The cushions expelled air as they took his weight and his leather shoes farted against the supple leather upholstery.
Behind the sectional his feet became ensnared in a surprising array of electrical cords.
His knee banged into the low window ledge.
Through the glass he felt the cold night air breathing against his neck.
He concentrated on wedging himself between the low-rise wall and the sectional, otherwise he would be visible in the reflection of the glass as whoever was currently coming down the stairs – he could hear the footsteps now, keeping time with his hammering heart rate – would surely see him when they flicked on all the lights, which is what people do when they’re looking for someone.
Brandon
called out, “Hey?
I was just finishing up, Baby.
Did I wake you?”
Just coming in to do turndown service, sir.
And check these electrical outlets back here.
Max was staring at a condom wrapper on the carpet six inches from his face.
Ripped and discarded, it was something called a Magnum.
The rest of the words on the label explained why a condom would be named after a gun with a very large barrel.
No wonder he’d never heard of them.
“Baby?”
The voice passed him with the undertones of footsteps going towards the master bedroom.
There were a few moments of silence, during which Max found out that this particular condom came with extra lubrication.
Seemed reasonable to him, all things considered.
The footsteps emerged from the direction of the bedroom and stopped.
There was now the unmistakable sound of a cell phone being dialed, the numbers chirping one after another.
Then a ringtone played in the exact direction of the outer doors that led to the hallway.
Brandon
grunted and walked in that direction.
Tennis shoes squeaked across the marble.
The outer doors were opened.
“Baby – what are you doing out there?”
“Forgot my key,” came
Shannon
’s reply.
“Didn’t you hear me knocking?”
“Nah, I was upstairs working.
What you doing?”
Her voice came from the foyer now.
“I asked the security guard if he’d get me some aspirin.
I have a
stress
headache.”
The foyer doors closed.
Now the lights clicked on.
Max pressed himself lower to the floor.