The Enclave of Jyme (G Street Chronicles Presents) (10 page)

I looked around the hotel and once again I felt out of place. What the hell was I doing here? I knew this fucking hotel was out of my league and I looked stupid here. I was wearing a black t-shirt with khaki shorts and flip flop sandals. Everyone here looked like they were going or coming from a business meeting. The blonde in front of me finished and collected two keys from the man behind the counter and walked away from the desk. I watched her walk over to a bellboy with a rack full of luggage. The guy was having a hard time pushing the luggage cart behind the lady. He was grunting and sliding all over the place.

“Hello, sir…do you have a reservation?” the man behind the counter asked me. I turned to face him and took a step up to the counter.

“No, I don’t; but I would like a room if you have any available,” I told him in a clear voice. This hotel made me want to speak as clearly as possible.

“Of course, would you like a suite or a single?” the clerk’s nametag said
Peter
. He was medium build, medium height, black, and well put together.

“Um, a suite; I think,” I cleared my throat.

“Alrighty, sir; would you like a corner room facing the south, or will an inner room be sufficient?”

“Corner,” I said with a little more base in my throat.

“And how many nights will you be staying?”

“Until next Sunday.”

“Alrighty, sir; I have a corner suite from today until Sunday. Does that sound sufficient?”

“Yes.”

“Alrighty, sir; may I please have a photo ID with the credit card you’d like to place on file?

I handed Peter my driver’s license and my AmEx.

“Alrighty, sir; your total is $6,123.”

I wasn’t really shocked at the balance. I knew this hotel was expensive; my phone told me that. Plus, I got a corner suite with all the bells and whistles. I nodded at Peter and he swiped the card swiftly through the credit card slot on his computer. Papers started printing behind him and he retrieved them. He laid three sheets of papers in front of me and I had to sign all three.

“Sir, Bernard will be your concierge for the rest of this day and Calvin will be your concierge overnight. Here’s both of their numbers and contact them with any assistance you may need, sir.”

I nodded as he handed me a key and directed me to the elevators. I walked over and there was a man inside pushing buttons for people.

“What floor, sir?”

“Um…” I had to look down at the paper in my hand. “Ninth.”

He nodded and pressed the ninth floor button. I was the only passenger in the elevator and the music coming from the speakers was loud. There was a classical piece playing and it was a noisy little number. I liked Native music and instrumental pieces myself. The elevator stopped on my floor and I got off.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

“Thank you, and you too.”

The elevator doors shut and I walked down the hall toward my room.

I passed two women walking down the hall toward me. I moved closer to the wall so they could have more room. They both thanked me and gave me warm smiles. I nodded back and kept on walking toward my room. I made it to my door and looked around and saw the two women were standing in front of the elevator, but the blonde was watching me. I turned back toward the door and slid the key in. The sensor next to the key slot turned green and I heard the lock click. I pushed down on the handle and the door cracked a little. I turned back toward the elevator and the blonde was still staring at me. She waved and then stepped onto the elevator. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the room was the big windows. The room had wall-to-wall windows and the view of the courtyard was nice. All of the lights outside were on like Christmas. It was dark out, but the city was alive. I set my bag next to the door and went and sat on the bed. It was Saturday night and I was in an expensive hotel.

The first thing I ordered was the steak with roasted potatoes and mixed vegetables. An older man from the dining staff delivered it. I ate everything including the vegetables. The second knock was a younger guy from the dining staff. He brought lasagna with a side salad. I ate the lasagna, not touching the salad. The third knock was a middle-aged man from the dining staff. He had the lobster with crab legs and I finished all of it. The last knock was a man dressed in a three-piece suit.

“Sir, I am Calvin; your concierge. The bakery said these are for you.”

Calvin was about 6’3” or so; a black man with a light dusting of gray throughout his hair and beard. He wore white gloves and stood straight. Calvin had a small table with a large round serving tray with a silver dome cover. I stepped back so he could step in. He rolled the table in and started removing the other trays immediately. Once he had securely removed the others and had the trays out in the hall, he began to uncover the baker’s table. It had pastries, cookies, tiny cakes, slender slices of pies, and Twizzlers placed throughout the trays. The very well-designed dessert masterpiece had three layers.

“Sir, will there be anything else?” Calvin asked. I shook my head with an excited smile. Calvin turned to walk out the door. When the door opened, I saw two men in the hall gathering the dishes from before.

“Calvin?” I called out. He turned back toward me.

“Which is your favorite?” I gestured toward the dessert. Calvin placed his hand on his chin. He showed a deep decision being made.

“The cheesecake, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a pretty good knockoff of The Confectional.”

“Confectional?” I asked him confused. Calvin laughed and stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“The Confectional is a place one could go and repent for their sins of loving sweet things. Their cheesecake is sinfully delicious, and you’ll want to confess all your sins for loving it. My girlfriend is a manager there, and I’m addicted to both.” Calvin laughed again, and I joined him.

“You’ll have to tell me where it is so I can confess for myself,” I laughed. Calvin looked at me then and his smile went away.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking…are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Both I believe.”

“Sir, did you need for me to arrange entertainment for you?”

“No, no. I’ve had fun entertaining myself this evening,” I gave Calvin a forced smile.

“Sir, my office is on the corner or press 1 on your room phone if you need me,” he nodded and left.

I ate three little muffin cheesecake things and they were good. I’m not sure if I’ve ever tasted anything as good as those little things. I covered the dessert back up with the cover and decided to go get more ice so I walked down the hall. On my way back from the ice room, I saw Calvin talking to the ladies from earlier. The blonde was pointing toward my door and then she whispered something to Calvin. Calvin looked up at me and I ducked back down the ice room hall. I stayed there on the other side of the wall hoping the ladies didn’t see me.

I heard someone clear his throat and then I stepped out. Calvin was standing there with a piece of paper in his white gloved hand.

“Sir, you have an admirer. Ms. Radcliff would like for you to have her number. She inquired about your status. Fortunately, I had nothing to tell her nor would I if I did,” Calvin assured me. There was a knocking on someone’s door.

“Ah, that would be Ms. Radcliff at your door, sir,” Calvin’s eyes turned and he was listening to the knocking at the door.

“She’s still there, sir,” he whispered. “Come with me.”

I followed him. We went back down toward my room but took a side hall instead of turning down to my hall. It was a black door with a peephole, but no numbers. Calvin slid in a keycard into the slot. He opened the door and we entered into a foyer. It was nice with a marble floor with gold trim everywhere. There was a large mirror hanging on the wall, a small table underneath, a large flower arrangement sat on it, a coat rack with two coats, three umbrellas in their rack, and a nice mat in front of the second door. Calvin slid in a gold traditional key in this door. He opened this black door and we walked into a living area.

“Please, sir, make yourself at home.”

The room was bright. It had the same colors my room had, but this was just a living area. There was a TV hung on the wall and two couches with two matching chairs. Calvin walked over to the kitchen area and the light came on automatically. He went to the steel fridge and pulled out two beers.

“Water for me, please,” I told him while I stood there holding my ice bucket. He turned back around and reached back into the fridge. Calvin had a beer in one hand and bottled water in the other.

“I figured you’d rather wait her out; she can be somewhat obsessive with things,” he told me as he reached for the ice bucket. He handed me the water and gestured for me to sit. He set the ice bucket on the kitchen counter and then I sat down on one of the couches. He sat on the other couch across from me. He picked up a remote from the coffee table and pressed a button. Music started playing from somewhere. It was Jazz, but it was low.

“So, Jamerson…what brings you to Seattle?” he asked, crossing his legs.

“Starting over.”

“Well, that’s very obvious; but you don’t seem like you know what you doing.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Because you’re acting like a kid in a candy store and you’re scared of women.”

I sat there and then I opened my bottled water. I took a long swallow and slumped my shoulders.

“Would you like to talk about it? I’m your concierge and part-time psychiatrist. Everything is private.”

I don’t know why I did it, but I told Calvin every single thing there was to know about me. He laughed at the parts he thought were funny and he frowned at the parts that were sad or that made him think. Three hours had passed and Calvin knew me inside and out.

“So, what do you want to do here in the city?” Calvin asked.

“I want to be the man I’m supposed to be. I can’t find him or be him on the reservation. I need my own.”

“I know a guy.”

“That sounds like a bad line from a mobster movie,” I said.

Calvin laughed and then his smile was gone. “I didn’t mean it that way. But I do know of someone that can help you. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” I yawned.

“You go and get some rest. Someone will contact you tomorrow,” Calvin stood and handed me my ice bucket before walking me to the door.

“It’s not your fault, sir,” he said.

“I know.”

“Have a good rest of the day, sir.”

“You too, Calvin.”

I left Calvin’s suite and went back to my room. When I opened the door, there was a piece of paper on the floor. I opened it and saw a phone number with a note.

I’m the hot blonde from earlier,

Room 920

Come anytime.

Cleo Radcliff

I crumbled the paper up and threw it in the waste paper basket.

“I don’t even like skinny blondes,” I mumbled to myself. I laid down on the soft bed and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6

I woke up to the phone trilling in my ears. I opened my eyes, and the windows were too damn bright. As I reached for the phone, I knocked over the clock. There was a clatter and I yanked the phone off the hook and growled.

“What?!”

“Mr. Samson?”

“What?”

“Zedd is requesting your presence in the dining area.”

“I don’t know a Zedd.”

“Calvin referred you,” the clipped tone told me through the phone.

“Calvin? What?”

“Mr. Samson, you requested this meeting with Zedd. Be downstairs in ten minutes.”

The caller hung up. I hung up and set the clock upright. It was a quarter to nine. I got up quickly and took a shower. I threw on a t-shirt with a pair jeans and polo boots. I wore my hair straight down and rushed through the door and almost tripped over the person bent over and trying to push something underneath.

“Oh, Mr. Samson, good morning. I’m Cleopatra Radcliff. I left a note under your door last evening.”

“I’m sorry, I’m late for something,” I pulled the door shut, pushing my cell and the room key down into my back pocket. I walked fast down the hall toward the elevator. Cleopatra was on my heels.

“Mr. Samson, I’m heading out. I could go down with you,” she suggested.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Randall. I’m in a hurry,” I knew her name, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“It’s Radcliff of Radcliff surfboards.”

“Oh, okay; well, Ms. Radcliff, I have somewhere I have to be,” I called back almost sprinting now. I made it to the elevators and the doors opened. “Please hurry down to the lobby floor,” I told the elevator attendant.

“Mr. Samson!” the Radcliff woman shouted from down the hall. The elevator attendant’s eyes widened and he pushed the L button. The elevator doors were closing when a thin, pale hand stopped them. She was panting and looked annoyed.