by RA Chandler
R.A CHANDLER
Website: www.rachandler.com
Email address: [email protected]
Twitter page: ra_chandler
Facebook page: newyorkchandler
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 R.A Chandler
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1511789585
ISBN-10: 1511789581
DEDICATION
To those that came before me, I remember that all literature is just an organized collection of quotes already provided to us by our ancestors.
Come over to www.rachandler.com for free books and a chance to win prizes
Also by RA Chandler
The House Wins
The Wrong Song
The Trouble Business
The King’s Prophecy
A Quick Sojourn
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: NIGHT CAP
PART TWO: FIRST DAY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the universe for this thing called life that I have and get to experience every day. To inspiring writer like Wallace Thurman, Walter Mosley, Eric Jerome Dickey, Sam Selvon, Andrea Levy, Robert B. Parker, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Les Brown and countless others that have helped to form my opinion of literature and my interpretation of the world. I say thank you.
PROLOGUE
1
Even from where I sat I could hear the complaints that Jack Quinn, the reception manager, received from the customers and residents on the eighth floor. He looked good in his uniform, the way a peacock looks good in its feathers and wants everyone else to know. He was a skinny guy with extreme permatan and thin crow’s feet. He was a smart man who knew plenty about being an hotelier from books but little about the realities of customer wants and wanes, if not for his staff he would have been made to look the fool he was.
“I’m sorry sir, no it won’t happen again, no I’m very sorry, yes right now…” he stuttered down the phone.
Annoyed residents had concurred that one-thirty in the morning wasn’t the best time for a certain guest to be playing loud music and practice electric guitar.
He slammed the phone down and told Veronica, the young student who used the night reception job to do homework and earn pocket money, to hold the fort. She did a mocking face behind his back as he strode towards me.
I sat in my security area which was a bar stool and a high table next to a large green plant near the automatic doors. I had my iPad out and went through room allocations for anomalies and incident reports. It helped to pre-empt complaints and problematic situations ahead of time. I liked the spot and most of the time people didn’t notice me and fewer bothered me. To most I was a black guy in a nice suit surfing the internet and drinking ice water. I had few security guys patrolling the floors and a room with CCTV, so I could coordinate everything from my spot near the front door.
It was an efficient operation that didn’t intrude on the visible mechanics of the hotel.
Management didn’t get it.
They never did.
I had no time to lecture them on prevention being better than cure.
“Are you actually head of security or do you just like to admire the expensive trim that comes through those doors?” Quinn barked in his nasally little voice
I turned my head towards him and gave him a look up and down; I really didn’t like the man. He was clean shaven and had put too much good aftershave on so that it smelt bad. In his late forties, he had quick eyes and thin lips.
“Can a man be both? If so I am he.”
“Okay smart arse, if it’s in your gift could you see your way to the eighth floor and ask Mr. Baby Marley to turn it down a bit and perhaps to hold his impromptu live performance in his own suite.”
I tried to look incredulous, “again, shit man. I thought he was sleeping in some kind of catatonic drug induced coma. And I think he calls himself Marley One, big name in Staten Island that one.”
“Whatever his name is, I got a call off three residents about him and some friends of his who are staying in neighboring suites are jamming along with him. I have no idea why the day manager let them all bunk on the same floor.”
“I’ve never understood why residents are on the same floor as guests anyway,” I said.
“Not my call, get on it.”
“Okay boss, but I think that people who don’t know how to behave or think they’re wannabe gangsters should be on a floor of their own.”
I swung my legs down off the stool and walked over to the bank of elevators, the lift attendant ran me up to the eighth floor. When I got the floor angry residents had come into the passage way waiting for my arrival.
Considering that the party was made up of Marley One, a couple of his boys and some random Asian girl who looked as though she was from out of town, they were making a lot of noise.
The boys were lined up against the wall, Marley One was smoking a blunt and his friends passed a Jägermeister between themselves. Over the music coming from the suite he rapped about white folk and making them repent, which helped explain some of the complaints. His friends appeared to be hype men throwing in whoops and ‘fuck yeah’ now and again for a bit substance.
Marley One stood about six feet tall, was very slim, muscular, covered in meaningless tattoos, naked from the waist up and about twenty-one. His Wikipedia page had him listed as coming from Compton, selling drugs and being one of the toughest Niggas alive.
Of course it was all bullshit though. I had a friend in the industry who’d told me he was from somewhere in the mid-west. He’d been part of an amateur dramatic society as a preteen and some agent, probably from Disney, decided he had the look. So they created the fake biography, tattooed him up, got some artists to co-sign for authenticity and encouraged him to smash up a few rooms for effect.
The performance was for the benefit of the girl who he probably intended on doing something with that was news worthy.
She was an oriental girl, maybe of Thai origin. Her face told me she was about eighteen but, had the body of a woman in her early twenties. She reminded me of a Tigerr Benson. She wore a red off the shoulder dress under which she appeared to be naked or at least dressed in a panties and bra set made from a meagre amount of material. She was doing every routine one could get away with in heels and a few you couldn’t.
“Okay people,” I said loud and firmly. “Play times done, so let’s pack it up and go back to our rooms ASAP.
Marley One took this to mean I needed a farewell verse. “And the pigs they come in black and white but we’ll slaughter them with all our might.”
“Nice, but it’s still bedtime. Now.”
“You’re such a spoilsport Mr.” said the girl with as much sass as a sixteen year old. She sounded southern in a nice way, but a little silly too.
“Yeah, Coco here was showing us her dance moves for our latest video,” said Marley One with a smirk.
I let out a little air and shook my head.
“That’s right Mr., Marley and his boys were going to make sure I was airtight and my friend too.” said Coco.
“Did they actually use those words?” I said seriously.
Marley smiled.
“Yep,” said Coco in my face, she smelt like a lot of Jägermeister.
“You understood what he meant right?”
“Man, just be gone,” she said and kic
ked off her shoe in the air towards my face; I caught it like a first baseman, swiveled and grabbed the girl by her wrist.
“Well it seems like you got more balls than these fellas,” I said, she had nice soft skin too. “Come with me.”
“Kick his ass,” yelled Marley. “Then cum with me,” he added and winked at his friends.
I didn’t have time for this so I lifted Coco onto my shoulder in a fireman’s carry and ran with her as though she were a light sack of potatoes. She tried to kick out her legs but I grabbed her ass and it seemed to calm her. It was a nice ass, but as quickly as I grabbed it I let go, I wasn’t convinced she was over eighteen.
By the time we reached her door she’d stopped kicking and started moaning about being hungry. I used my passkey to open the door, stood her up, pushed her in and went in after her.
She looked panicked, “how’d you know my room?”
“I’m the head of security and I saw you’re name as someone’s guest.”
“Well whatever, you get the fuck out now or…”
“You’ll call security?”
She frowned.
“You know I could have you thrown out for harassing other customers.”
“Marley One and I are friends.”
“You follow him around, try and get backstage passes.”
“Fuck off, I’m tired.”
“You know if I was mean I could have the cops come down here and arrest you for under aged drinking, possibly even soliciting. Do your parents know you're in a different state? Where you from, Louisiana?”
“New Orleans, what of it?”
“You watch Marley One on MTV or BET and think he’s the shit right?”
“For sure,” she said getting her energy back.
“Do you know what airtight means?”
“Sure…”
“Other than sealing something to stop air getting in?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a term used in pornography to describe a scene, you with me?”
She looked uncomfortable now.
“So you have straight sex, that’s called boy girl.”
“Okay.”
“You have double penetration, that’s a guy penetrating your butt and your vagina.”
She looked a little like she wanted to be sick now.
“Airtight is a guy in your butt, vagina and mouth.”
“That’s sick.”
“That’s what Marley One meant by airtight.”
“That ain’t right or godly.”
“How’d you know he’d be here?”
She shrugged her shoulders and looked briefly towards here bed. My eyes followed and on the next bed I saw another woman, about the same age but with a body like a grown woman too. She was about the same complexion, skinny, large breast for her frame, dyed blonde hair and a pretty face. She was wearing a black thong, Thudercats t-shirt, no bra and lying on top of the duvet covers. She was grumbling now and holding her hand over her head as if she was trying to shield her eyes from the sun.
“Jesus, another one? Okay ladies stay away from Marley One, for his and your own safety. Now I suggest going to bed or find another hotel to stay in, make up your minds and stick to it.”
If I’d known Coco was going to throw a hand mirror at me I would have caught it, but instead the sound of displaced air made me duck.
“Get out,” Coco screamed like an exorcist.
“Leave him alone,” said the girl on the bed. “I need a little quiet.”
She kept her eyes closed.
Coco pivoted and sashayed across to the minibar, she had a nice walk that would only get better with age. She got a single malt miniature whisky out of the fridge and knocked it back before I could get to her. The sensation was new and she coughed and gagged violently dropping the glass and falling to her knees.
“Yep,” I said. “Too far from home, you’d have been easy meat and all over the internet.”
She coughed some more, “I don’t feel good.”
“Probably a roofy, let’s get you to bed,”
She tried to get up herself but was like a deer on ice and skidded back to the floor. I went over to her lifted her up into my arms and carried her to her bed, slipped off her shoes and put a duvet over her. Then I returned to her half-dressed friend.
Her friend appeared to be sleeping too and I saw no reason to wake her, I turned the lights off and left the room.
Back in the corridor, two doors away from the girl’s room I could hear Marley One playing his own records. I got a call from the front desk as I walked towards Marley’s door.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Garvey its Veronica, we’ve got two ladies here say they were invited by Marley One as his guests and would like to come up to his room.”
“Can they hear you?”
“Nope.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Two high classed hookers I’m guessing.”
“Great because all we need is hookers, Marley One and his friends, and a couple of bags of coke. Tell them I am not permitting any guests onto his floor because we’ve had a security scare but if they would like to submit themselves to a security check first I’ll be happy to oblige.”
She did and they said they would send him a text message.
I knocked Marley One’s door.
No joy, so I let myself in and shut the door behind me with my shoulder, Marley was all alone.
He was in a big easy chair surrounded by what looked like a rain cloud of weed smoke. Despite the noise he was on his phone shouting down the mic instead of turning the volume down on the sound system.
“Yeah.” He said to someone. “We had this bitch primed, ready to drop, slipped her a tab, had her twerking and shit. I'm telling you I was looking to put my dick in her ass, shut up nigga, that ain’t gay. So anyway, got a couple of high class hookers and some more tabs, yeah be here in like thirty minutes, house security is a pain in the ass though. Yeah some buck nigga.”
I logged into his rooms audio system from my tablet and turned the music off, I liked modern technology.
He looked up from his phone, “shit man got to go, thirty minutes yeah?”
“I’ve told you once to keep the noise down,” I said.
He smiled; it wasn’t a nice smile, but the kind of smile belonging to a man that really didn’t give a shit. Not so much Disney Club as psychopath. He’d probably been nice once, but a steady stream of hookers and drugs had warped his sense and sensibilities.
“Marley One hears you, he just don’t give a fuck,” he said referring to himself rather annoyingly in third person. “Marley One does whatever the fuck he likes, wherever he likes, whenever he likes, ain’t no one stopped his fine ass yet. So bounce nigga before I straighten you out, feel me?”
I looked around.
“Where are they?”
“What?”
“The audience.”
“What audience?”
“The one you're performing for, because you ain’t acting for me. Seriously aren’t you from Idaho or something?”
“You trying to get hurt?”
“No seriously, you shouldn’t travel without your carer, his job is stop you getting caught doing and saying stupid stuff like you're going to hurt the six-three, two hundred a fifty pound head of security who specializes in executive protection.”
“Don’t mean shit to me,” he said blank faced, still trying to figure out what executive security meant.
“Why you pick that girl?”
“Say what?”
“The girl I had to get away from you, why her?”
“Oh shit, that trick, playa please. Bet you fucked that one time, her ass should be out right about now. She had a fat ass and some titties, all trying to pop out of that mini dress. Came up to me in the bar talking about how she loves my music, can’t dance but I bet she can fuck. That’s what fans are for.”
“To drug a girl, put a dick in her ass, another in her mouth and one in
her…”
“Pussy. Yeah shit would have been awesome, ain’t never tried that before. Would have filmed that shit too.
“You got issues you need counselling for, but that’s by the by. Keep the volume low, people are trying to sleep. In the big wide world you're a rising star smashing things to create a persona. At this hotel however you are a guest like the rest, but with a reputation that doesn’t do you favors. So because I’ve got a job to do I'm telling you nicely, keep it low or you will be leaving the hotel early with a headache.”
He smiled that little nasty smile again.
He picked up the audio remote from the table and turned on the most profane track he could find and turned the volume up high.
I wasn’t in the mood to push the teeth in of a rising star; it didn’t look good on the old resume so I resigned myself to pulling out the power lead of the audio system. He could entertain himself playing tunes on his cell phone.
I bent down next the system.
I’ve been hit in the head with a sap, brick and a shoe, but never a crystal highball glass.
That was until that moment.
The glass was cheap and didn’t have enough body to concuss me; it would give me a little welt mark and nothing else.
I stood up and took a step back, Marley should have done the same, but he didn’t so I slapped him with an open hand. It wasn’t my hardest strike but I had technique and calloused palms that added extra sting. The blow took him off his feet and into the couch; he reached into an open bag next to it and came out with a gun.
“They teach you moves like that in Idaho?” I said.
“Whatever man, I always bring the noise and this here Dessert Eagle is my spokesman,” he said smiling and fired a round.
The gun was loud and its roar was timed with gunshots on the track playing. The mirror next to the TV shattered, glass flew off it and cut my cheek like I’d shaved with a crooked razor and nicked myself. I could feel the wet of the blood begin to roll down my face.