by Tineka Brown
Everett was waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived, wearing a grey silk robe and boxer shorts.
“I’m so sorry, Olympia,” he said. “Here, let me get your suitcase.”
“Thanks. Sorry I woke you up.”
“Hm?” Everett looked down and realized what he was wearing. “Oh! Heh, no, you didn’t wake me. I was just getting ready for bed.”
The apartment looked much the same as it had when Olympia had left it a little over half an hour ago, but somehow it felt much safer in comparison to the hotel.
“Your room is right in here.” Everett led her down a short corridor and opened the door to a small guest bedroom. One wall was fully glass and led out onto a small section of balcony. Against the window, next to the balcony door, was a double bed on a low frame, plush with a pillow-y white duvet.
Everett set Olympia’s suitcase on the floor. “Bathroom is at the end of the hallway,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Um… what else. I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up, because I have to be at the casino early tomorrow morning to meet with the contractors and go over final details. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen — I’ll leave the coffee out for you, so you can make yourself some. My chef has the next few days off since I’ll be so busy. Don’t worry about locking the door when you leave, I’ll leave a key with the doorman downstairs. And I’ll make sure I book you that single hotel room as soon as I can in the morning, okay?”
Olympia nodded, going over everything he’d said in her head, to make sure she’d got it all. “Sounds good,” she said, and was suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn. “Wow… I guess I really am tired.”
Everett smiled, and took a step forward to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Of course. I’ll let you get some sleep. You’ll need your beauty rest for rehearsals.”
He left the room, his bare feet barely making a sound as he walked across the apartment to his own bedroom.
Olympia sat on the bed for a moment, looking out at the balcony, before fishing her toothbrush out of her suitcase and heading for the bathroom. Afterward, she found that the drapes were motor-controlled from a wall panel and pressed the button to pull them shut before curling up under the duvet.
The bed was like a cloud, and she fell asleep almost instantly, despite her distant, nagging worry that Valentine was somewhere out there, doing bad things.
*****
The drapes were apparently set to pull back at a programmed time, for when she awoke she found that it was because the room was flooded with light. Squinting, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, listening for any outside sound that would indicate Everett’s presence.
But it was after nine, and the penthouse was silent. She rolled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, slowly, examining every surface, knick-knack and piece of furniture along the way. Everett lived like a king — though the whole place was very tasteful, everything seemed exceptionally well-made down to the finest details. Olympia struggled to imagine how much it had cost him to furnish and decorate this place. But, then, she supposed it didn’t matter.
A paper bag of freshly ground coffee, labelled by hand with the type of bean and roast, sat on the black marble kitchen counter, next to a French press and a polished kettle with a curved neck. Olympia realized that the kettle was sitting on the stove. It took some feeling around to find the “on” switch, which was hidden below the lip of the counter, and when pressed, caused a section of counter to illuminate with a series of numbers, touch-screen buttons, and circles that indicated elements.
Eventually she figured out how to boil the water, then went in search of cereal.
“Jackpot,” she whispered as she found a cupboard with three nearly untouched boxes of exotic, organic cereal varieties.
The fridge was as impressive as the stove, and when she’d finally assembled her rather modest breakfast, Olympia felt as though she’d probably now be ruined for any “normal” kitchens, as well.
She walked into the living room and sat on the sofa facing the wall-mounted flat screen TV, placing her dishes on the coffee table. The remote was sitting expectant, as if Everett had known she’d want to catch up on her shows while she was here.
As the picture appeared, though, Olympia’s heart skipped a beat.
It was a morning news program — a blonde reporter was smiling vaguely at the camera man. Behind her, the front of a casino (thankfully not Everett’s) was draped in police tap, and a cop car was visible in the driveway.
The tag line below the scene read “suspect arrested in late-night cocaine bust.”
Olympia frantically hit the volume button, leaning forward, her cereal all but forgotten.
“In the wee hours of Thursday morning, police were called to the scene to subdue a man who witnesses say was acting erratic, moving throughout the casino floor and threatening revelers. The man has recently been identified as Valentine Romero, a 29-year-old singer who claims to be in town for a show related to the opening of a new casino owned by billionaire entrepreneur Everett LeBlanc.”
Olympia gasped, realizing she’d forgotten to breath. Oh no, she thought, standing and pacing toward the window. This was bad. Not only was Valentine in trouble, but perhaps he’d eventually be connected to her — worse, maybe he’d try to blame her as a way to get revenge.
Deep breaths, Olympia. Deep breaths.
She shut off the TV and grabbed her phone.
Chapter 5
“Okay, calm down Olympia, we can figure this out. It’s not the end of the world.” Everett’s voice was soothing. Olympia barely detected a hint of the panic and annoyance that she was expecting, when she called him.
“Not the end of the world, maybe, but certainly the end of Valentine’s… maybe my career.”
“It’s not the end of your career, either, Olympia. You know that. Tell me how many times you’ve heard of a famous singer getting arrested for drugs. How many of those singers still managed to release albums and go on tour after that?”
“Well… a lot of them, I guess.” Olympia felt herself going red. It hadn’t been her intention to embarrass herself —now she was second-guessing even calling Everett in the first place. What did she care, anyway, if Valentine got himself into trouble? He was a jerk, and he deserved everything he had coming. She gathered a breath. “But that’s ‘because they already had careers, and enough money to buy really expensive lawyers! Valentine’s not rich — in fact, I don’t even know where he found the money to buy that coke!”
“Hey, you’ve got a point. But guess who has enough money to pay for the best legal team in the world, if it comes to it?”
“Uh… I guess you do.”
“Exactly. Anyway… I doubt anyone’s going to press legitimate charges. He’s been thrown in the drunk tank. I’ll send someone to bail him out, okay? He’s my headline act, and I’ll do what I can to protect him, so just don’t worry about it okay Olympia?”
Olympia felt the hot anger and panic slowly melt away. She flopped down onto the sofa and stared dejectedly at her bowl of cereal, abandoned and now soggy. “Alright.”
“Thank you. Look-- ah, I’ve got to go. Things are getting crazy here. Be here for rehearsals at six this evening okay? I’ll have Valentine in my custody by then.”
“Okay.”
Everett hung up unceremoniously, not even offering a goodbye. Olympia’s heart sank. She took a sip of coffee, not knowing what else to do with her hands.
Alright, she thought. It’s not so bad. Anyway, what do I care? It’s his problem. I’m sitting here enjoying my breakfast in a gorgeous penthouse in Vegas. Nothing wrong with that.
She sat in silence, waiting as her heart rate returned to normal, beginning to feel some semblance of equilibrium. It was just before 10 in the morning — she had an entire eight hours to do as she pleased before rehearsals.
Naturally, the first thing she decided to do was to pick out what dress she’d wear.
Where she’d initially planned to wear her basic j
eans and t-shirt to rehearsals, now she was struck with a sort of fashion inspiration. Or that was what she called it, charitably. Really, she just wanted to impress Everett, though she didn’t dare admit that to herself.
After trying in several options, she went with a satin number in a shade of emerald green that she found quite striking. Valentine had never liked it.
With her evening dress selected, Olympia decided the next order of business was to try out Everett’s shower. It was certainly luxurious — large enough to comfortably fit two, and Olympia certainly entertained the notion… but she was just as happy to revel in having all the hot water to herself.
Everett had quite a collection of exotically-scented soap and shampoo. Olympia used entirely more than was necessary, testing out each scent like a fine perfume. By the time she emerged from the steam, the bathroom smelled like a cacophony of fruits, flowers, and spices.
She contemplated her reflection in the mirror, slicking back her hair while it was still wet. The sight of her face, bare and missing its halo of curls, was unusual. It made her feel almost vulnerable, exposed, as if her afro hairstyle was a sort of protection against those who would judge her.
Typically for a man, Everett didn’t seem to be in possession of a hairdryer. Olympia shrugged, using the time she would have spent drying her hair to instead indulge in one of Everett’s more expensive looking lotion.
Dressed, dry, and smelling like a dream, she made her way to the sofa by the window where Everett had kissed her. In the daylight, the sprawling city looked dull, half-obscured by shifting dust clouds that seemed to congregate where traffic was heaviest. The tallest buildings stood out like beacons, blinding metallic points in the murk.
The kiss already seemed to have happened long ago. Olympia let her mind wander, going over the sensations again in her head. Do I really want him? She wondered, or am I just star-struck?
Even if it was just a short-lived crush, this was certainly a lifestyle she could get used to.
She glanced at the time. Just after eleven now. Apart from snooping, or watching TV, she’d nearly exhausted all of her entertainment options. Another cup of coffee staring at the skyline sounded vaguely relaxing, but she eventually reasoned that she’d rather put her feet up after she’d actually done some walking.
Shoes on, she left the safety of the penthouse and pushed through the heavy glass doors at the front of the building, nodding to the man at the front desk as she did so.
She was hit by a blast of hot air as soon as she did — she’d forgotten how high Everett had cranked his air conditioning. And with good reason, too. She couldn’t imagine living here without it.
The streets near Everett’s building were at least somewhat shaded, thanks to the nearly identical high-rises that bordered it on all sides. Olympia put on her sunglasses and strolled for a few blocks, looking into shop windows and cafes. Everything in the area seemed decisively upscale, and she didn’t want to step into any of the shops for fear of taking one look at the price tags and having to turn on a heel and march right out, hanging her head in shame.
After having her gaze drawn by a few particularly fetching outfits, she caught herself wondering just what it would take to get Everett to give her free reign over one of his credit cards.
Eventually, she grew hot and tired of the pavement, and swerved into the nearest cafe — a hip, new-looking joint with a wood and painted-brick interior, polished hardwood tables and a few rich, white women dressed to the nines sipping espresso.
Olympia swallowed back her self-consciousness and sat. A waitress arrived after a few moments with a menu and a pitcher of mercifully chilled cucumber water. Feeling human again, Olympia chose a salad from the menu and looked around the space. There was a distinct air of money, here, as much as the place might have been trying to hide behind a veneer of bohemian aesthetics and exposed brick. The rest of the patrons all looked like they’d just come from shopping, probably being fitted for dresses that Olympia could only dream about wearing, for concerts that she’d perform, maybe, someday, when she was famous.
She finished her water, resting her head on one hand, wishing she brought a book or something. The salad arrived quickly, though, and she busied herself with savoring it — really, she couldn’t fathom where this place, and Everett, were getting such fresh produce in what seemed like such a wasteland.
When she left the restaurant — after parting with a bigger chunk of her travel budget than she’d wanted to — she decided she didn’t feel much like shopping anymore, and headed back to the hotel. It was early afternoon, now, around one, and the hours seemed to be ticking past slower and slower.
Of course, as soon as she arrived in the hotel lobby, it occurred to Olympia that she’d left all of her things at Everett’s. What, am I trying to move in with him already?
Probably just the heat that was making her forgetful. Another short, sweaty walk, and she’d killed half an hour.
The doorman at Everett’s building smiled as she came in through the glass double doors. “Back so soon, Ms. Jackson?” He asked.
Olympia laughed sheepishly. “I forgot something in Mr. LeBlanc’s suite. May I go up there?”
The doorman nodded courteously. “I’ll have the door unlocked until the security system detects that it’s been opened.”
Olympia balked, and swallowed her curiosity as to the extent of the high-tech features of this place. “Oh, uh…” she spun on a heel. The doorman raised an eyebrow. “Is there a pool that I might use, in this building?”
“Oh, of course. Second floor, it’s straight off the elevator. You can’t miss it. You will need to call down to the desk if you want to be let back in to the penthouse, however. Do you have the number?”
“Uh… no, I don’t think so.”
She half expected the doorman to tell her that if she didn’t have the number, it was obviously because Everett didn’t want her to come back. Instead, the man turned and fetched a business card from behind the desk, handing it to her. It looked something like the card that Olympia had found in the bouquet of flowers on the night she’d met Everett.
“Thank you,” she said.
The doorman nodded and returned to his post.
The swimming pool, as it turned out, was even more expansive and beautiful than the one in the hotel. Olympia smiled to herself as she realized that this was yet another thing that she’d be ruined for, after experiencing it the way Everett did. It was becoming a running theme on this trip.
She was, of course, perfectly alone for the duration of her swim — the pool was silent, but peacefully so, the only sound was the occasional splashing of the water against grey shale tiles as she created ripples. Olympia swam laps at first, trying to burn off some excess energy, maybe tire herself out enough that she could take a nap. Eventually she became lost in her thoughts and simply drifted in the pleasantly cool water.
There was a jacuzzi tub in a secluded corner. When she tired of swimming she took advantage of it, watching bubbles form and disappear on the water’s surface, mulling over her thoughts.
She wondered where Valentine was, right about now. Had Everett already bailed him out, or was he still sitting in a police station drunk tank with a bunch of unsavory strangers? Perhaps they weren’t strangers — maybe Valentine had a whole set of friends that she’d never known about, contacts for the exclusive purpose of buying drugs, then having someone to do them with.
Lord knew that Olympia had never been the type to join Valentine on his little escapades. He’d tried to get her to join him, on more than one occasion, but she’d never been swayed. The most she’d ever done with him was get a little too drunk, but even then, never so much that she’d entirely lost her faculties.
She supposed that she’d never really trusted him. Not with her life, not with her reputation, not with her money. So, what else was there? Kicking her feet through the warm water, Olympia wondered, as she had on many occasions over the past few months, exactly what it was that had held
their relationship together for so long.