by Nikki Turner
She had checked in already, and somehow Fiona had mistakenly thought that Beijing was her personal go-fetch-it girl. She’d arrived first thing that morning and was scheduled to leave in two days, which wouldn’t be soon enough for Beijing.
Fiona called the desk the next morning acting as if it were Beijing’s fault that she hadn’t packed the proper amount of undergarments. She insisted that Beijing run right out to buy three pairs.
“I need a late checkout and I only wear Claire Pettibone, and I don’t want you to send another soul. Do it yourself,” she demanded. “Because I don’t want anyone else to see what goes on my tanned hind parts. It’ll be in the magazines by the end of the week. You are my hotel host. Not those stupid people who can’t seem to get a damn thing right.”
“That’s not a problem, Ms. French,” Beijing assured her. “Have you had an incident with any of our staff?”
“No, but they just look like peons, like they are waiting to mess something up. Now, for the third time I need a size one.” This skinny bitch needs to eat something, instead of constantly complaining about the tea being too hot when room service delivers it, Beijing thought as she stood in line at the mall waiting to purchase the silky unmentionables. But if doing this will get this anorexic, neurotic bitch off my back and out of the hotel, then by all means let me get this done.
Beijing’s cell phone broke her thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Girl, you ain’t gonna believe this.” It was April, calling from the hotel.
“I’ll believe the pope’s a pimp right about now. Anything’s possible,” Beijing half joked.
“Are you sittin’ down?” April asked.
“I’m on my way to the car now.” She was walking out of the air-conditioned store into a Charlotte fall evening. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been calling upstairs all afternoon trying to get the band out so that we can get those rooms turned around quickly.”
“Is that all?” Beijing chimed in. “That’s why I blocked those rooms for any check-ins until after nine PM. I had a feeling they would be late getting out after a long night of partying, booze, and broads.”
“Well—” April paused. “—it looks like we’re going to need a little more time than that.”
“Don’t tell me they’re still there?”
“Actually, they’re gone, but …”
“But what?” Beijing was too fed up with all the drama.
“You’re going to have to see it to believe it, girl.”
“Try me,” Beijing insisted, just reaching her car, pushing the button to release the lock and getting in.
“I started calling upstairs at about two PM. I wanted to try to help as much as possible before you returned. I knew you were stressed from dealing with all Fiona’s constant bullshit-ass demands. Anyway, I finally caught up with their manager around four.”
“Rick?” Beijing asked, hoping April would move the story along a little quicker.
“Yes, Rick da Dick.”
“Yeah, you ain’t never lied, girl,” she agreed.
“He promised that he was on top of the situation and that he would have everyone up and out shortly.”
“And …” Beijing sighed, pulling out of the crowded parking lot. “Sounds like there’s more.”
“Oh, there’s more. He got on top of it all right,” April concurred. “When Rick could not get them out of the room, he took matters in his own hands. He sprayed the fire extinguisher under the bottom of their room doors, and now that white shit is all over the place.”
“You’re kidding me?” Beijing was in shock.
“That’s not all,” April added. “They moved furniture out of the rooms, barricading all the exits, I guess to block girls from coming up the stairs.”
“That’s a fire hazard. Thank God no one got hurt.”
“Yup, and I forgot to mention the chair that was thrown out the window that almost hit one of our other guests.”
“What?”
“I can’t make this stuff up. They also broke most of the mirrors and some more shit. Like I said, girl, you gotta see it for yourself.”
“Well, I’m on my way.” Beijing’s phone beeped, and she looked at the call coming in. “Go ahead, April, it’s just Fiona.”
“Okay, well I don’t mean to continue to piss in your cereal, but the place is a wreck. They’re saying it may take a week to get back in order, and that’s with everybody working overtime.”
When Beijing returned to the hotel she got Justin to deliver Ms. French’s items, then put together a team of people consisting of management and housekeeping and set out to survey the damage. Since these were her clients, she wanted to be there. The second she stepped through the sliding doors of the elevator onto the seventeenth floor, a horrible stench hit her in the face.
“Oh God! Something smells like shit!” she screamed, covering her nose with her left arm to keep herself from vomiting. Nobody could fault her outburst, because the smell was undeniable and unbearable.
Deader than Dead made sure that the hotel was deader than dead before they left. They had treated the entire floor as if tearing up the rooms were an Olympic event and they were competing for the gold medal. All the mattresses were dripping wet and smelled of urine. Beer cans, liquor bottles, empty condom wrappers, food, and drug paraphernalia covered the floor. They even left a three-foot-long pipe that they’d been smoking sitting in the middle of the floor with a note on it that said, Tip.
Beijing was surveying what was over a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of damage when her cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” she said to her colleagues, taking the phone from her waist. It was Lootchee. She stepped out of the room.
“Baby, I can’t talk right now.” She sounded exasperated. “I’m having a real shitty day. Literally.”
Lootchee barely got a chance to say “Okay” before she ended the call. Beijing really wanted to talk to Lootchee, to tell him how much she appreciated the visit and quality time they had spent together and how much of a gentleman he was and how she couldn’t wait to see him again. But that would have to wait, because the issue at hand was taking all the energy she had.
Before she could step back in the room, her phone went off again. This time it was from Fiona.
“Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want you to send some damn bellhop to bring me my things? And you forgot to bring me the Golden Delicious apple I asked for? And also some hot tea. Not flaming hot, just hot?”
Beijing was steaming hot herself. “Can you give room service a call for that please?” she said in a calm voice.
“Are you my hotel host or am I yours?” Fiona asked.
Beijing was quiet for a second. She took a deep breath, but Fiona spoke. “Do you want to say something? Because God only knows what you are thinking.”
“I will call them for you,” she said. “Will there be anything else?”
“Yeah! Where are you that you can’t deliver my things and cater to my needs concerning my tea and my Golden Delicious apple?”
“I’m dealing with a major situation in the hotel.”
“I think you are avoiding me. I’d like to come to where you are, to see what’s so important,” Fiona pressed.
“No, that’s not a good idea,” Beijing said. “I will have your requests sent right up to you.”
“No, I think I want to come and see what exactly is so pressing before I demand your boss fire you for your insolence.”
Beijing ignored her remark. “I’m on the seventeenth floor, but I don’t recommend that you come up here.” Beijing knew it was wrong to let her see the hotel in that condition but she wanted Fiona to see that she had bigger fish to fry than a goddamn Golden Delicious apple and some warm tea.
“Oh my God,” April screamed.
“What is it?” Beijing asked as she stepped back into the room.
“Those trifling-ass bastards shitted in the every last one of the dresser draws.”
Another scream came from the hall. The manager and Beijing rushed out. It was Fiona, looking down at her shoe with a horrified expression.
“And apparently in a few other places too,” Beijing said with a grin.
“This is despicable. Who lives like this? My fucking Chanels are all shitty. I’m checking out of this piece of shit, and this hotel will replace my Chanels and I mean it!” Fiona screamed as she stormed out tracking size-eight feces footprints all through the hotel.
CHAPTER 17
After a Long’s Day Work
After working fourteen hours a day for the past two days, Beijing was beat. Housekeeping was pulling in lots of overtime trying to restore the rooms on the seventeenth floor to their original condition. Beijing felt bad because her clients had created this mess. She helped as much as she could, but it was time to get a good night’s rest.
As she headed to her suite, she heard the elevator alert that meant it was stopping on her floor. Soon after she heard someone call out to her, “Ms. Lee. Please sign here.” Maxine, one of the housekeeping supervisors, handed her a clipboard. Over the past forty-eight hours Beijing had gotten used to being passed the clipboard, having to sign off on everything that had not been accounted for in the initial walk-through of the mess that the band had ruined or broken. This time it was the icing on the cake.
“Twelve sixty-one?” she asked.
“Yes.” Maxine shyly nodded.
That’s Fiona’s room, she thought. Beijing read off the list: towels, coffeemaker, robe, slippers, umbrella, and iron. “Not the sheets?” Beijing said out loud, surprised.
“Please don’t shoot the messenger!” Maxine said.
“Oh, I won’t. I seriously need a drink.” She put her signature on the dotted line. “It looks like she took anything that wasn’t bolted to the floor.”
Maxine said, “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“No, you are just doing your job. Again, I apologize that you all have to deal with this.” Beijing handed the clipboard back to her.
“Just the nature of the beast.” Maxine walked off and called out to Beijing, “Take a long bubble bath and try not to stress over it. It’s not your fault. You can’t control other people’s actions.”
Beijing ran her card through the swipe-pad of the door; the light turned green, and she pushed her way into her suite. All she wanted was a shower and a good night’s rest. All the lights were down, the room was faded to black, but there was a sweet familiar aroma in the air. She slid her hand down the wall in search of the switch. Got it! A fluorescent hue flooded the living room. The first thing she saw was a gorgeous vase filled with every color rose imaginable arranged beautifully. Single rose petals were strategically placed on the floor, creating a trail of loveliness. The trail ended in the bedroom atop the mattress, forming a big heart with L & B in the center. She couldn’t help smiling as she felt her troubles start to melt. There is always light at the end of the tunnel.
She dialed Lootchee’s number immediately.
“How sweet of you,” she gushed the moment he picked up. “Thank you, baby. It was just what I needed after such a long day.”
“Don’t thank me, thank the gods for creating such a beautiful lady,” he said.
“I don’t know what to do about you. You do all the right things at all the right times.”
“Well, you did say you were having a bad couple of days and I was too far away to give you a hug, so I did the next best thing, ya feel me?”
There was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone, she peeked out the viewer and saw Su-Yung, the Tabby’s head massage therapist.
“What are you doing here, Su-Yung?” she asked, hoping he didn’t need her to come and put out another fire. Lord knows she wasn’t in the mood for that madness.
“You boyfriend,” Su-Yung said in broken English.
Lootchee laughed and said, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I also arranged for you to have some well deserved R and R.”
Beijing was speechless for a moment and then managed to say, “Thanks, Lootchee.”
“Enjoy yourself, baby! I’ll be counting down the minutes and hours until we see each other again,” he said before they ended the call.
“I’ve been sent to give you a full-body massage,” Su-Yung said. “Let’s start.” He rubbed his magic hands together.
“Okay, Su-Yung, give me about fifteen minutes to wash off the work dust and I’m all yours.”
“Excellent, madam.” He agreed to come back then.
Right on schedule, skin still soft and wet from the shower, Beijing waltzed back into the front room wearing a bathrobe. There were candles burning; a cushioned table sat smack-dead in the middle of the floor, draped with white sheets.
“All right, get undressed,” he said. “Lie facedown on table and cover self. Be back couple minutes.”
Beijing did as she was asked: disrobed, lay on the table facedown, got under the sheet, and waited for Su-Yung to come back. When he returned, he put on some relaxing music. Beijing closed her eyes and imagined a lazy, perfect sunset.
She nodded her head back. Next she heard the splattering of oil being squirted onto his palms. He rubbed his hands together, and the room smelled like lavender. Once his magical fingers found her neck, all of her aches, pains, stress, and cares melted away into his touch. She was like butter.
“You like?” he asked.
“What?” She was feeling so good she’d missed what he said.
“You like?”
“I like,” she murmured.
Twenty minutes into the massage Beijing was sound asleep, feeling like a lottery winner. Then she could feel his hand lingering on her butt a little too long for her comfort.
“What da fu—” she said, about to jump up and duke it out with Su-Yung.
“Whoa, baby, it’s me,” Lootchee said with a smile.
“How … where?” She was so relaxed, she felt delusional
Lootchee silenced her with a kiss. “Relax.” Then he put his finger to his lips before giving her another kiss.
He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and placed her on the silk sheets. He gently pulled her bottom lip between his own and softly sucked on it, giving her a long, hot, and juicy tongue kiss. After half a dozen more pecks, his tongue moved between her lips and teeth, going in for the kill. She could put up a fight or accept it, but Lootchee was prepared to conquer her either way. He was met with a reticent yet insistent suction. She was roping him in like a cowboy at a bull-riding rodeo.
Before long their tongues were attacking each other like swords used by two professional fencers. Her hands rushed down to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Lootchee’s hands dropped down to her butt and squeezed it like it was Charmin.
He dragged his tongue over one breast, rubbing the other with his hand. As if his tongue had a mind of its own, it trailed down her stomach till it reached the spot between her legs, leaving wet footprints as it was marking its territory. With his free hand he spread her legs and his tongue dove in like a scuba diver looking for lost treasure. Beijing gasped then relaxed as he probed for the goodies.
When he was done, Beijing got on him and rode him like a stallion, making him call her name.
“Beijing, Beijing, Beijing!”
The next morning, Lootchee and Beijing slept in and ordered room service. “I’m so glad I don’t have any special guests in town.”
“Me too,” Lootchee added.
“So, today I think I’m going to take you on a picnic and we can sit by the lake and appreciate the small things life has to offer us, like the natural wonders of the world.”
“I’m cool with that.”
Lootchee gave himself a tour of her posh suite.
“This place is cute,” he said, nodding.
“Isn’t it?” She was glad that he liked it.
“Nothing like indulging in luxury, but you are my woman now and my lady lives a little bit more extravagant. So we need to find y
ou a place.”
“But I stay here free of charge. Free room and board and food. I don’t have to pay for anything.”
“And you won’t have any bills at your new place either.” He gave her a long French kiss. “After the picnic, let’s go look at condos.”
Beijing didn’t want to argue with him; nor did she want to give up her place at the Tabby. Still, she reasoned with herself, maybe if she did, she wouldn’t have to take her work home with her. So it seemed like Lootchee’s thoughts did make sense.
“Ask your boss for a vacation,” he said.
“It should be okay with him. Before I met you, I hadn’t really taken any vacation. I’ve always been a workaholic so he shouldn’t have a problem.”
“Even if he does, you need to just take one.” He got up, went into his bag, and pulled out two envelopes. “Choose one. Do you want door number one or door number two?” he teased, holding them both above her head.
“Depends on what’s behind the doors.”
“I can’t tell you, you have to pick.”
“I don’t know.” She carefully examined both envelopes.
“No peeking.” He playfully hit her. “Stop torturing yourself and pick one and get it over with.”
“Okay, so let me get number two,” she said excitedly.
She opened it and could not believe the contents. A trip to Rio de Janeiro. She was too excited, and the flight would leave in only two weeks!
CHAPTER 18
Is It Love? Or Intoxication?
As the jet touched down in Rio de Janeiro, a Latin man leaned over and said, “Rio is the most beautiful city for a love affair. Whenever I leave I am filled with saudade.”
“What does that mean?” Beijing asked.
“Um, it’s like longing, unbearable longing, the way you long for a lover when she is away from you.” The Latin man’s eyes glinted, looking over at Beijing and Lootchee.