“What did you say?”
He looked her in the eye. “I’ve seen your movies.”
“I don’t give out autographs. Or samples.”
“Wasn’t going to ask.” He glanced at the little girl, then back at Mom. “You’ve been in a lot of them. I think I first saw you in “Fire Hose Gals,” what, in 1958, was it?”
She glared at him. “If you’re trying to earn a tip, here it is: stop yapping and do your job.”
She’d already given him a headache; next the broad would give him a hernia. “Sorry, Miss Devine.” He hoisted another case bearing a Star Trek decal from the trunk and turned his gaze on the little girl. “So, is your rock collection in this bag?”
“Those are my books.” Her voice was stern.
He smiled at her, long and slow. “Meant no offense.”
Cherry snapped her gum. “You’re sure weak for a guy your size. What are you, five-ten?”
“I’m six feet,” he retorted, wishing he dared ask if she was fucking a Harlem Globetrotter. The bitch. “And I ain’t weak.”
“Just get done. I’ve got places to go.”
“People to meet.”
“Right.” She popped her gum.
“So, are you retiring up here?” He made his voice light and harmless. “Like your mother?”
“Don’t I look a little young to be retiring?”
Not with your clothes off, baby. “Sorry, you just have so much luggage that I thought-”
“You aren’t paid to think, bellboy.” Cherry Devine unlocked the rear passenger door. “When you’re done there, we’ve got a lot of clothes on the backseat for you to take upstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His smile could have eaten a mountain of shit.
The porn star made a satisfied sound and waited for him to shut the empty trunk. She locked it. “We’ll meet you inside,” she said as she strutted away.
“Miss,” he called after her. “I can only bring up a couple of the smaller cases right now. The rest have to wait until Mike Granger okays the elevator. The-”
“Quake, I know,” she finished. “The fucking earthquake. Well, get it inside and put it where nobody will steal anything. Bring up those three red suitcases and the blue one for my daughter. That will get us through until evening.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I expect them all to be delivered tonight even if you have to carry every single bag up the stairs yourself. My mother pays you to do that, so that’s what you’ll do.”
He nodded, happy he got off work at six. Steve Cross would have to play slave for the bitch.
Holly didn’t like the way Arthur Meeks’ eyes crawled all over her so she trailed behind him and Cherry as he dragged the luggage cart over the gravel parking lot to the lobby. He was having a hard time because it was so overloaded. Holly would have volunteered to help him if he hadn’t been so creepy. He wore a uniform with gold epaulets, gold buttons, and a little round hat kind of like Jerry Lewis in The Bellboy. Thin colorless hair had escaped it and whickered like wheat on the warm breeze. He was icky.
When they entered the lobby, Holly went straight to Meredith at the desk. The woman smiled. “Did you ask your mom about coming over tonight?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“Good. I’ll be done here in just a few minutes, and as soon as Steve arrives, we can leave.”
Holly nodded then glanced at the creepy bellhop who had pulled Cherry’s three red cases and her blue one off the cart. “Please leave my suitcase there,” she told him “I’ll get it myself later.”
The bellhop grinned and smacked his wide rubbery lips. “Whatever you say, little miss.” He set her case in an alcove by a room just behind the front desk. He looked at her and licked his lips.
Cherry didn’t notice; she was too busy hurrying Meeks along. “You be polite, Holly,” she called over her shoulder. “And don’t wear out your welcome. Be back here at a reasonable hour. Before midnight.”
“I will.”
Meeks waited for Cherry at the stairwell. She glanced at him. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.” She returned to the desk. “Um, Meredith, right?”
“Right.”
“Is there any nightlife around here?”
“What kind of nightlife?”
“A place where I can get a drink and a burger. Hear some music, maybe dance.”
“Well, yes. There are several places, though none of them are terribly reputable.”
“I don’t care about that. What do you have for me?”
Holly cringed, slowly moving away from her mother.
“There’s Darkside Johnnie’s, right in the center of town, on Main. You’ll recognize it by the big green neon sign and all the motorcycles parked out front.”
Cherry’s eyes lit up. “A biker bar?”
“Yes. One of the nicer ones, I hear.” Meredith smiled wanly. “Almost all the bars around here are full of bikers. Probably a quarter of the town’s population is bikers.”
“You don’t say.” Cherry smiled. “I do enjoy a man who knows how to ride a hawg.”
Arthur Meeks grinned. His chin had a cleft but it was underslung and something about that, combined with his broad flat upper lip and the limp dishwater hair gave Holly the creeps. Cringing, she slipped into the souvenir area and examined some salt and pepper shakers shaped like miners and donkeys, cowboys and cacti.
“Darkside Johnnie’s has live music and dancing. I can’t guarantee you it’s every night though.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out after I shower and put on my dancing shoes.” Cherry turned to leave, but the entry door jingled as a tall blond man dressed in black came in.
He was handsome and Holly tried not to stare, but Cherry practically tore off his clothes with her eyes. “Steve,” Meredith said. “You’re here in the nick of time.”
He grinned and let himself through the registration desk’s gate. His golden hair was probably long - Holly thought there might be a ponytail hidden under his black turtleneck. He had sideburns sort of like Mike Nesmith of the Monkees, but smaller, so they didn’t look hippie-sized. Holly thought he was absolutely gorgeous. She saw Cherry looking at his hair and sideburns, too, and wondered if she thought he was a hippie. Probably not; she was wetting her lips and looking at him like he was dinner. Holly felt a pang of something unpleasant, but hadn’t a clue what it was.
“Merry Meredith,” he said in a soft, pleasant voice. “How are things tonight? Did the quake do any damage?”
“I don’t think so. Michael hasn’t given the go ahead to use the elevator yet, but I suspect he will any minute now.”
Steve nodded. “He’s a cautious guy. That’s cool.”
“It is. Steve, I’d like to introduce you to our new guests. They’ll be staying for a while-”
“Just until my agent calls with a new job.” Cherry wet her lips again and squirmed to make her boobs look bigger as she put her hand across the desk. “Cherry Devine. You work for my mother,” she informed the handsome man.
“Steven Cross,” he said, giving her hand the briefest of shakes. “I’m the night man.”
“I’ll just bet you are.” Cherry spoke in Monroe tones.
He looked confused.
“And over here,” Meredith nodded toward Holly, “we have Holly Tremayne, Miss Delilah’s granddaughter.”
Steve smiled at her, a big winning grin, and the skin crinkled around his eyes in the most pleasing way possible. Holly’s tummy did a little squiggle as she approached him.
“Hello, Holly,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m happy to meet you. I’m here all night, so if there’s anything you need, or if you have any questions, just ring the front desk.”
Holly blushed but didn’t giggle. Instead, she shook his hand solemnly. It was warm and dry and she hoped hers was, too. She could see he was way too old for her - he was probably at least twenty-five or even thirty. “Hi, Steve.”
Her mother looked annoyed.
He opene
d his mouth to say something but the ding and whoosh of the elevator interrupted. “Mike cleared the elevator?”
“Looks like,” Meredith said.
“It’s about time!” Cherry turned toward the elevator but stopped cold as the door opened and Delilah Devine and a man in a white captain’s hat exited. Without showing herself, Holly watched as her grandmother whisked the handsome white-haired man - the Commodore - past Cherry without a word or a glance. Delilah wore a silvery veil attached to a small cap of matching feathers, and her dress was a knee-length silver-gray boat neck with a cigarette skirt and a silver belt. Her high heels were silver, too. They turned down the hall that led to the restaurant.
Meredith was on the phone. “Mike, did you okay the elevator?” She paused. “Okay, great. See you at home.” She turned to Holly. “Ready?”
“Ready!”
6
Horses, Horses, and More Horses
The Grangers’ home, a multi-level adobe, stood hidden at the top of a curving cobblestone driveway. Only the glowing amber windows of the upper floors were visible above the trees until they arrived at the courtyard. There, all the lights gleamed welcome. “It’s beautiful,” Holly said.
“We like it.” Meredith opened the door.
When she stepped inside, Holly held her breath. It was an old house, Meredith explained as she showed her around, almost as old as the hotel, and the head surgeon had lived there back when it was the Clementine Hospital.
Despite its age, the home seemed modern, with some of the rooms a step or two up or down from the others. The walls were painted in the palest shade of peach and in the cheery kitchen, cobalt blue tile wrapped the counters, with Mexican tiles painted with yellow and orange flowers punctuating the blue sea of tile. It was all so perfect and brilliant that Holly vowed to herself that her own kitchen would look the same someday. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” she said, committing everything to memory.
“Glad you like it.” A huge orange fluff ball of a cat trilled and leapt from a kitchen chair. He came right up to Holly and rubbed against her legs, purring. “That’s Fluffy,” Meredith said. “He’s asking you to pet him.”
“Hi, Fluffy!” Enchanted, Holly scratched him behind his ears. He trilled again.
“Fluffy, you can beg more pets later.” Meredith smiled. “Come on, let’s find Becky.” A moment later they were upstairs in a wide hall hung with brilliant wildflower paintings, reds, oranges, yellows offset with blues. Meredith knocked on one of the doors. “Becky, Holly’s here.”
In an instant, Becky opened the door. “Want to see my horse collection?”
“Sure.” Holly entered Becky’s room. There was an oriole window that looked out over the town and desert. The view was a lot like the one Holly had from her own balcony, but better because the oriole had a built-in bench and books lined the sill. “I could sit there and read all day and night. This is so nice.”
“Dinner’s in half an hour.” Meredith Granger shut the door gently behind her.
Holly was busy looking at the books. There were some Nancy Drews, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and The Hobbit.
“You can borrow any you want,” Becky said, coming up beside her. “I’ve read all of them.”
“Thanks. I’m going to start The Haunting of Hill House tonight. Do you like ghost stories?”
Becky looked thoughtful. “I get scared pretty easy. I even had nightmares after we saw The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. Did you see that?”
Holly nodded. “That was so fun! I loved the organ that played by itself.” She noticed the model of a dappled gray stallion Becky held. “He’s pretty.”
Becky thrust the horse into Holly’s hands. “I got him for my birthday last month. I want a real horse just like him. My dad says I can have one when I’m old enough to get a job to pay the stable rent.” She gestured at a wall behind her. “There’s the rest of my collection. Don’t you just love horses?”
“They’re nice.” Holly checked out the models. There were palominos and chestnuts and pintos and appaloosas - probably at least thirty different horses on narrow shelves mounted on the wall. Holly liked horses okay, but Becky, like most of her California friends, was insane for them. Holly wanted a Mustang with tires rather than one with hooves. She knew she was a little weird, but didn’t care.
Suddenly, the door burst open and a tow-headed little boy yelled “BOO!” at the top of his lungs.
“Todd! Get out of here!” Becky cried.
“Boo!” the boy yelled again, then he noticed Holly and looked away, possessed by shyness.
“You can’t come in here, Todd.” Becky stalked toward him. “Get out or I’ll tell Mom.”
The boy shrieked and raced out of the room. Becky closed the door. “Little brothers are horrible. So are big brothers. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Holly shook her head. “No. I always wished I had a sister, though.”
“Me, too.” Becky smiled. “We can be sisters.”
“Okay.”
By the time Meredith called them for dinner, Holly knew every name of every horse and had been introduced to more models of Barbies and Kens than she’d ever seen.
And she wasn’t so sure she wanted a sister.
7
Arthur Meeks
In his four years at the Brimstone Grand, Arthur Meeks had drilled discreet holes in a number of walls separating the rooms. They hid behind pictures, in patterned wallpaper, and other places that were hard to spot. Now, off duty, the doorman stood in Room 424 and removed a painting of the desert at sunset done by some local yokel who had more ambition than talent. The Queen Douchebag called it ‘supporting the arts.’ Arthur called it supporting crap. He set the painting on the bed in the empty room then pressed his eye to the peephole.
Cherry Devine was in 426’s shower - he couldn’t see her but he could hear her singing Thank Heaven for Little Girls. She was crooning in a breathy Monroe fashion.
It was working for Arthur; he liked all girls, but the younger the better was his motto, yessireebob.
He wished he could see her as she sang, watch the hot water spanking her bottom and drizzle down her face, caressing her breasts, kissing her belly, splashing all over her cooch and legs. He wondered how she washed that cooch of hers. With a rough cloth or did she slip the bar of soap right up in there or maybe just use her fingers to get every last bit clean?
Or maybe she’s a dirty girl ...
He shivered, refusing to touch himself. That was for later. The faucets squeaked off and he held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t dress in the bathroom.
He watched, pressed to the wall for several minutes, then she entered the bedroom, wearing a short white terry robe that swatted her asscheeks without hiding them. Bend over, bend over, bend over!
And she did.
The carpet didn’t match the drapes, not by a long shot, but seeing that dark bush peek out from behind that sweet ass as she bent over her suitcase brought Methuselah roaring to life. He thumped against the wall, but Cherry Devine didn’t hear him - she was singing to herself again as she pulled tiny rose-red bikini bottoms up her thighs.
Panties in place, she dropped the robe and when she finally turned around he saw those double Ds sway as she moved. He remembered them well from the stag films at the X-E Lady. They were still full and heavy, though now they hung a lot lower than they had when she was in Fire Hose Gals years ago - but then his own balls got splashed by toilet water when he dropped his business these days. Father Time was kind to no man. Or woman.
Cherry put on a matching red push-up bra that made her melons jut so far out you could eat dinner on them. Looking good, little lady. Looking good. Methuselah throbbed.
Crossing to the dresser, she came so close to the peephole that he dared not blink or even breathe. She started putting on makeup, a lot of it, lining her eyes with black mascara and shading the lids with light blue shadow. Finally, she added false eyelashes, applied pink blush, then lipstick
so pale it sparkled like snow. It looked cheap and whorey, and he liked it.
Finally, she walked away from the dresser, giving him the perfect view. She shimmied into a glittery red top with long sleeves and a low neck, then fastened a black velvet choker decorated with a red cherry around her throat. A pair of glossy black capris sheathed her legs. Then she stepped into black heels so tall that most gals couldn’t walk in them, but she moved like a champ, without a waver. Just like a pro, yessireebob!
She stood in front of the full-length mirror turning this way and that, then put a finger to her lips and kissed it then moved it down to her ass, touched it and made a sizzle sound. “You’ve still got what it takes,” she told her mirror image.
Indeed, she did. Arthur Meeks waited for her to leave, replaced the painting, then counted to one fifty before letting himself out of the room. The floor was quiet. He looked across the hall at 429, where the little girl was staying. He knew she’d gone off to Meredith’s place for the evening and that there was no spyhole between rooms 429 and 427. At least not yet - but there would be. Pussy that young needed watching.
8
Dinner
“How long are you going to be staying?” Greg Granger asked between forks of spaghetti.
Greg had medium brown hair, dark blue eyes, dimples, and was going to be a freshman at Brimstone High School in September. He was fourteen and really cute.
“I don’t know,” Holly said as her cheeks heated up. “Cherry - that’s my mom - says it’s just until she gets a call from her agent about a movie, but she hasn’t had a call in months. I hope we get to stay here a really long time. I love it.”
“I hope you stay forever and ever!” Becky said.
“What movies is your mom in?” Greg asked. “I go to the movies all the time. Maybe I’ve seen her.”
Mike Granger choked a little, took a big drink of water, then cleared his throat. “I doubt you’ve seen her, son. I think she makes documentaries.” He winked conspiratorially at Holly.
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