Monty grinned. “I love the way you think Nate.”
Nate pulled himself up to full height and breathed out slowly. “Whew! I need that blow job pretty fierce now and I need to get going if I want to get the black haired girl. She can make a man feel like a king if you tip her well.”
Monty looked up.
“Don’t look so taken back Monty. This is a hotel. Everything can be bought for the right price. Besides, this woman does business here at the hotel all the time. Her girls are well mannered, genteel and receptive to taking care of details, if you know what I mean. You should look around you more often and observe.”
Suddenly Celica walked back carrying Nate’s drink.
“Here’s your bourbon on the rock Mr. Trent.”
“Ah…..Thank you Celica,” Nate said, taking the glass out of her hand. “As always, you can be counted on to charm, fetch, retrieve and act dumb,” he condescendingly said while walking away.
Chapter 5
Wait a minute an embarrassing situation
Pauline Baptiste walked a short distance away from her husband Jean Baptiste. As usual, he’d dismissed her concern that he speak with his cousin Delilah Deauville about her behavior. Now was not the time, Jean had said, as he squeezed her hand. Now was never the time.
Pauline had married Jean Claude Maximille Baptiste when she was twenty-one. Back then, just as now, it cost money to live, and Jean’s family had money. He could afford a wife and he could give her father a loan to keep his real estate business going.
There was a price to be paid for that loan to keep her father’s business going. There was a price to pay for everything that happened in life. Pauline’s eyes eagerly watched her daughter Katrina Baptiste as she strutted brazenly around the room like her cousin Delilah Deauville
Pauline’s lips thinned into a frown. She didn’t like it when Katrina acted like she was. She had big dreams for her daughter. She wanted her to go to Berkley or Stanford, maybe even Vassar College. She wanted Katrina to marry a good man. A good man like Ming Mondragon had.
Her eyes slanted, focusing, as she watched a young man walk up to Katrina and engage her in conversation. He had reached out possessively and took her hand in his. The handsome young man was Jorge Manteau.
Katrina and Jorge Manteau were both very beautiful. They made a handsome couple. For once she was glad to see him. Jorge was of mixed parentage, and the fact that his father didn’t bother to marry his mother no longer was a concern to her.
“Jorge, it is so good to see you. I knew you’d come and see Katrina compete tonight,” Pauline’s voice delicately rung out as she closed the distance between them.
Jorge Manteau’s eyes lit up in surprise as Pauline embraced him in a hug. He felt like he’d been captured by a hunter.
“Mrs. Baptiste, it’s so good to see you,” he gave her a warm smile back. “I was just telling Katrina I had to leave. I won’t be able to see her in the pageant tonight.”
Chapter 6
Wait a minute an embarrassing situation
“Mrs. Palling, can you tell me where I can find Louis La Cour?”
Clare Palling looked up into the gray-green eyes of Jean Baptiste. She folded her arms on her desk as he walked closer.
Jean Baptiste smiled. He’d gone from elementary school through high school with Clare Palling. He knew she was two years younger than he was. She may have been an accountant but she was very easy on the eyes. Her high cheek-boned face held fathom deep eyes. She’d aged well.
“Do you remember that time you, me, and a few other kids from high school, went downtown to Murphy Street and hung out at the pool hall?”
“Yeah, I remember. We had a lot of fun that night. You and me and that Ravenna Blackstone girl; she was dating Big Fred Bonaparte,” she said with a laugh. “We stayed on that pool table for hours, laughing and joking and drinking root beer.”
Jean enjoyed watching Clare Palling smile. God, she’d aged well he thought. From the first time he’d ever seen her he’d thought she was the one woman God had given beauty to. Everything about her was prefect, from her thick wavy long hair to a perfect face and body. He reminisced back to their days in school together. She raced though his thoughts and he smiled.
She took a sip of her coffee. She had seen her share of overpriced charity balls in her lifetime. She noted Jean held a plump envelope in his hand. She watched as he put the envelope on the desk in front of her. Tonight’s ball wasn’t cheap. She knew Jean Baptiste had committed to ten thousand dollars for the table he’d purchased for tonight’s dinner. She also thought of the fees he’d paid in advance to have his daughter entered into the Royal Queen Pageant. Being an accountant, she’d seen most people pay for their tickets, fees, donations and such with checks or credit cards. Cash payers were a rarity.
She reached for the envelope and smiled. “Whew, it looks like there’s a lot of cash is in that envelope. Jean, you’ve never paid for your event tickets with cash before.”
The smile on Jean’s face died instantly. Clare Palling was just like his Pauline. Always hungry for his money he thought, as he snatched the envelope from her hands. “Hey, wait a minute that cash is not for my event tickets for tonight. You know I normally just mail you a check.”
The moment was awkward.
Clare frowned. What an embarrassing situation. It was obvious to her that Jean was lying. She stared between Jean and the envelope.
Jean hesitated then looked at the envelope. “Ah, oh this,” he said, stuffing the envelope back into his jacket pocket. He hoped the lie he was about to tell wasn’t evident. “I was just getting some cash out to give Pauline. She wants to buy some raffle tickets later.”
Clare leaned across the desk. She stared at him. Her expression was polite but curious. “Raffle tickets with that much cash?” she laughed out. “Well, you must want Pauline to win all of those donated raffle prizes real bad.”
Jean’s entire mood changed. His smile was tight. “Yes, I do. Pauline has her heart set on winning a prize. Anyway, I’ll be mailing in my check as usual for our tickets,” he said nervously looking away. “I was looking for Louis. Is he around?”
“No, sorry. Louis is out making the rounds.”
Jean shrugged. “You don’t have any idea where he is?”
“Well, he could be in the mezzanine on the second floor right off of the Regency Ballroom, or he could be in the Grand Ball room. It’s hard to say.”
“Well, I guess I’d better start looking for him.”
“Yeah, you do that Jean,” she said turning around reaching to refresh her cup of coffee. It was going to be a long night”, she thought.
Jean turned slowly and left.
Chapter 7
A little problem
The little girl stood beside the dance floor, eagerly watching the couple dance. Several times she waived and tried to make eye contact.
The couple dancing ignored her. Finally the music ended. The man grabbed the woman’s waist and pulled her close in a hung. The couple walked off of the dance floor.
“Thank goodness, your dance is over,” the little girl hissed out in a tizzy. Her hair looked a mess.
Immediately she ran over and grabbed her mother’s hand.
Pearl gazed down at her daughter. “Lacey, what are you doing in the garden room? This room is for adults only.”
“Daddy, do you mind if I borrow mom for a moment?”
Louis looked back at his daughter. She was the miniature image of her mother. He smiled proudly knowing his blood line ran though this beautiful little girl. He shook his head knowing what time it was going to take to untangle the mess on her head. He reached and patted his daughter’s hair. “Lacey Catherine Kadira La Cour, what did you do to your hair?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind, forget I asked. Your mother will take care of you and that mess in your hair. I need to go and check on the queen pageant. It’s about time we got things started.”
Lacey watched gratefully as her father
walked away.
Pearl surveyed her daughter with loving admiration.
“Mommy, I need you,” Lacey said as she spun around and scooted in closer. She pushed her long curly reddish brown hair behind her ear. “Maëlle Mallard said she could style my hair to look just like Katrina Baptiste. But she couldn’t.”
“Whew, did she now?” Pearl frowned. She sighed heavily. “Okay, come on Lacey. It’s a good thing we booked a suite upstairs. I don’t think the San Jose Hotel’s Beauty Salon could do a thing with your hair after the famous stylist Miss Maëlle Mallard worked her magic”
Lacey giggled.
Rapidly skittering small footsteps were heard behind them. Lacey glanced quickly behind. She looked anxiously at her mother and said. “Mom, Maëlle really didn’t mean to mess up my hair. Can she please come with us?”
Pearl stopped abruptly and turned. “Yes, you can come too, Maëlle.”
Maëlle smiled back at Pearl with deep affection. “Thanks Mrs. L.”
Pearl led the two girls towards the elevator. They walked past the bar. There sitting at the bar sat her mother in law.
“Grand mere Catherine,” Pearl called out anxiously. “Would you like to come with us? We are on our way up to the suite.”
“No,” she said reflectively looking at the two little girls standing next to Pearl.
Catherine Marie Rousseau-Andries La Cour was Louis’ mother. She was fearless and feisty. She possessed a hidden bold streak that unashamedly reared its head in moments like this one.
She was affectionately and fearfully known as Grand mere Catherine.
An unspoken accord of shock registered on Lacey and Maëlle’s face as they looked directly between each other, then back at the Grand Lady sitting at the bar holding a martini glass.
Grand mere Catherine looked down at her martini glass and back at the two little girls embarrassed. She sat her glass down and turned around.
“Okay Lacey and Maëlle, you caught your old grandmother having a drink. It’s what we old grown folks do from time to time,” she fixed her dress. “Nothing to worry about. And since I saw the two of you earlier waiting for Pearl, I knew I was officially off duty. Now you two stay with Pearl. You hear me?”
“Yes, Grand mere,” Lacey and Maëlle said simultaneously.
Pearl looked at her mother-in-law non-judgmentally. “Well, the girls and I were on our way up to the suite. I need to fix Lacey’s hair.”
Grand mere Catherine arched an eye brow. “Yeah you do that Pearl. It needs it badly. Maëlle Mallard, I don’t think you should pursue a career in hairstyling. It is not your calling,” she said lifting her hand in a mock toast.
Pearl looked at her mother-in-law with a disapproving slant. “Grand mere Catherine you may want to stop drinking. Aren’t you going to babysit the girls after I’m done with Lacey’s hair?”
“Oh no, Pearl. Ah MMM not. After the headache those two caused me,” she shook her head. “I’m off duty as a baby sister tonight. Mother Kahina Laveau agreed to watch them for the rest of the evening. She’s watching the Mondragon girls too. So they won’t be lonely.”
Lacey frowned. “Mommy we don’t want the warden to babysit us.”
Pearl looked simultaneously between Lacey and Maëlle. She shook her head. “Lacey, how many times do I have to tell you, don’t call Mother Laveau the warden? That goes for you too Maëlle.”
The two young girls looked thoroughly embarrassed.
Grand mere Catherine’s voice coolly said, “Oh Lacey and Maëlle, as soon as Pearl is done with your hair, be quick about getting yourselves to the warden. Mother Kahina Laveau does not like to have to spend her precious time looking for little girls.”
Pearl hung her head trying not to laugh. “Come on you two, let’s get to our room,” she said walking away.
“Mom, do we have to go with the warden?” Lacey asked.
“Lacey, don’t call her that. Mother Kahina Laveau is a delightful, responsible woman who takes her babysitting duties seriously,” she smiled. She knew that Mother Kahina Laveau wasn’t going to put up with any of Lacey’s or Maëlle’s kid foolishness.
Pearl led the two girls to the elevator. She opened her purse and retrieved her card key. Last Saturday night their whole family, including Maëlle, had been home playing Monopoly. For once she missed game night at the La Cour family home.
Chapter 8
Grandmothers and other Holy Things
A small stout woman stood next to a potted fern. Her dark eyes danced with happiness in her round face. A few strands of gray hair were seen in the part down the middle of her hair. Her thick hair was plaited into a complicated bun at the back of her neck.
Ina Rosolado’s eyebrows arched seriously as she inspected her grandson’s tuxedo jacket. She flicked off a piece of crumb.
“Quinn Darnell Rosolado Rolandis you look like a Mayan Clark Kent,” she said in a heavy Spanish accent.
The young boy standing next to him seemed to be fighting a laugh.
A man walked close. Hello Mrs. Rosolado.”
Ina turned and looked up. “Hello Horace. My goodness, you look very handsome in your tuxedo tonight,” she shook her head. Her voice was firm. “Boys, see how well Mr. Horace Garrison looks in his tuxedo. That is why you should keep your jackets on.”
Horace looked between the two boys. Quinn and Nicholas had been hard at playing. Nicholas still had his coat jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.
Shyly Nicholas peeked up at him. “Hi Mr. Horace.”
“Hi Nicholas,” he smiled. “From the looks of things I’m guessing you and Quinn have been playing in the hotel’s water fountain again. Here, let me help you put your jacket back on.”
Nicholas squeezed close. “Mr. Horace, would you do me a big favor? Don’t tell my dad about our playing in the water fountain.”
Horace laughed. “Okay Nicholas, I won’t tell. But I can’t promise you what Mrs. Ina will say.”
Nicholas finished buttoning his jacket. “Wow! Thanks Mr. Horace. Quinn already asked Mrs Ina not to say anything about our being in the water fountain. And she promised she wouldn’t. You know Mrs. Ina, Quinn’s grandmother, is a really holy thing. She would never tell us a lie or anything.”
At that moment Ina Rosolado’s eyebrows arched. She winked at Horace letting him know she heard their conversation.
Horace winked back and then put his hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “You know Nicholas, you do look real good with your tuxedo on. Who knows, maybe one of the girls from the Junior Royal Court may see you in your tuxedo and ask you to be their escort?”
Nicholas shrugged and shyly hung his head. “Ah, I’d have to look like royalty or something to get one of them to ask me to be in the Junior Royal Court. I don’t have royalty in my blood like you do Mr. Horace.”
Puzzled, Horace asked. “What was that Nicholas?”
“My Mom said you had royal blood. She said she knew it was true because you and her both grew up in Goldonna Louisiana. She also said that maybe the two of you shared a cousin or two,” he said without pausing. “Anyway, she said you have a rich heritage that is made up of Irish Jamaican Royalty,” he breathed out. “I know this because Mom said you had a White Irish Great Grandmother who was royal lady-in-waiting or queen or something royal, right? And she said that we could be related because lots of folks are related to each other back in Goldonna.”
Horace thought for a moment, wondering where Nicholas was going with this conversation. “Yes she was right. What’s on your mind then Nick?”
“I figure, since I look as good as you in my tuxedo and since my mom came from Goldonna, just like you, she might be kin to your royal relatives too. And since my dad and you are best friends, then maybe it would be okay if I tell folks I’m royalty too.
Horace laughed. “Whew, what you just said is really a mouth full Nicholas, but I guess if you want to say that you’re related to royalty, it’s all right with me.”
“Hi Mr. Garrison,” Quinn grinned edging
closer. “Can I ask you something too?
“Whew, Quinn, I guess so,” he said. “Boy I hope it won’t be as complicated as what Nicholas just asked me,” he thought.
Quinn shook his head. “Ah, don’t worry. I just want to know if it’s true your middle name is Sherlock? You know like Sherlock Holmes?”
Horace Sherlock Bailey Garrison was a very handsome man. He smiled at the two boys and remembered himself at their age. He decided to give them a little history lesson.
“Yes, but my middle name is also Bailey and the Bailey name is just as important as the Sherlock name. For instance, did you know that I was given the name Bailey so that I would always remember my White Irish Great-Great Grandmother who was royalty? And did you also know I can trace my mixed race ancestry back to the legacy of my Jamaican roots?”
“I knew that one,” Nicholas said. “I also know you got your deep vivid green eyes and jet black eye lashes from your Irish Great-Great-Grandmother, right?”
Nicholas’ statement gave Horace a moment of pause.
“Really? Who told you that?”
Ina’s eyebrows arched as she realized she needed to intervene. “Mr. Horace, sometimes the young can talk too much. Don’t you think so?”
She turned her gaze back to the boys. “Quinn and Nicholas, you two don’t leave my sight, okay.”
Horace glanced up at Ina and realized how patient and observant she was. He also noticed something else. “Thanks for taking care of the boys, by the way, if I forgot to mention it. You look very beautiful yourself.”
A radiant smile crossed her face. “Oh I don’t mind taking care of the boys. The boys are no problem. In fact, they are always making me laugh when I least expect it.”
Horace nodded agreement and turned his attention. “Nicholas, where’s your father Louis?
Nicholas shrugged. “I haven’t seen dad since we got here. Mrs. Clare Palling, the accountant, met us at the door. Then she and Dad whispered back and forth. Dad told Mom something and he left.”
Grand Hotel (A Geek An Angel) Page 4