Fully Committed

Chapter 20: Breaking Bad

Fri, 10 Aug 2012 06:38:02 -0400

It’s 7:15 AM.

I walk out the back office and see Billy on auto pilot, checking off a list, as his automated voice trails, “Good Morning Mr. Condon this is your 7:15AM wake up call. The current temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Have a pleasant day.”

I scribble on his note pad: Beer.

He nods as he continues, “Good Morning Mr. Weinstein this is your 7:15AM wake up call. The current temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Have a pleasant day!”

I reach for his note pad and write: Where’s Tamika?

With the telephone crutched between his shoulder and ear he continues his wake up call and scribbles: Changing.

He continues the wake up calls and as I write back on the pad: Bar. 8AM.

He nods.

I leave the front desk and enter a side door and enter the service elevator. I push 21. The elevators stops on a couple floors up and I run into an housekeeper with a push cart and hold the door as she rolls right in. We look at each other and say good morning. One floor up and she’s quickly out of the elevator and I’m repeatedly pressing the elevator close button.

When I get to the 21st floor, I slowly open the door and pop my head through the empty hallway closing the door quietly behind me as I tip toe to room 2115, scan my master key, and enter through the door. As I turn around Angel hands me a joint and bluntly asks, “Did she die?”

I light the joint and inhale, “No, she’ll be okay. Fucked up thing is she’s Kalashnikov’s daughter!”

Angel reach for the joint and takes a toke, “No, shit?!”

He passes back the joint and I sit on the comfy soft couch and look around the room, “Where’s Mark & Tahlia?”

“Sleeping.” He coughs and takes another drag.

I ash the joint on the table and pass it back to him, “All the gear packed?”

He takes a toke, “All set. Mark has a class at 11. Tahlia said to wake her up before 7:30, she has yoga or something.”

The phone rings and from the other room and I can hear Billy’s automated voice through the thin walls, “Good Morning Mr. Black this is your 7:15 AM wake up call. The current temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Have a pleasant day!”

The joint’s burnt out and I’m too stoned to relight it so I just set it on an ashtray as Tahlia enters the room in all black Yoga gear, “Good morning!”

I smile, “Hello sunshine, where you off to?”

She slings a rolled mat around her back, “Rooftop yoga.”

Angel turns to her, “Has anyone figured out you’re not really a guest here?”

She smiles, “I’m dating the yoga instructor. She doesn’t care.” She says very matter-o-factly as she waves good bye and exits through the door.

I look at Angel, “I didn’t know she was gay.”

Angel laughs, “I knew she was too happy to want to wake up this early for a reason.”

I tell him, “I’m going to the bar. You want to go have a drink?”

He shakes his head, relights the joint, and starts smoking, “I’m too stoned.”

“Alright, but don’t forget you have to be out before noon and take the side exit.”

It’s 7:30 AM.

I stand with my foot on the yellow line as I stretch my neck to see if the downtown 6 train is close and turn back to George, “Nothing yet. It should be here by now.”

He pulls be back just as the train pulls into the station. “Train here now.”

We step in the subway and have no choice but to stand side by side by the doors. The train is so packed I can’t even turn my head to ask, “The wife waiting at home?”

He turns to me and says, “Not today, she’s working a double shift.”

I’ve asked him a hundred times and he always says no, but I figured I’d ask anyways, “Do you want to grab a drink?”

He shrugs and a moment passes before he says, “Thank you, but not today.”

The subway doors open and we both step out for second to let some strap hangers pass through. The doors ring and we back inside and finally there are enough seats for me and George to sit. “I got you George. No worries, I’m buying.”

The subway stops again and our car empties, just leaving me and George in silence, until he asks, “Let me ask you something. How much they pay you at hotel?”

“Enough to keep the place from burning down,” I sigh, “But not enough to justify all the bullshit we have to deal with.”

He leans towards me and continues, “You’re a young guy Alfie. What do you really want to do with your life?”

I’m speechless, George is having a heart to heart with me, “Me? Film, I guess. It’s what I went to school for.”

He presses, “Why you not making film?”

I shrug and shake, “Money, time, and working all night at the hotel.”

He smiles, “But you got all three right? Why won’t you just shoot at the hotel, no?”

Does he know what I’m doing? He has to know. “Yeah, I would just have to be smart about it and not get caught.”

“You’re a smart guy and people like you,” he slowly continues almost mocking me, “I got your back! No worries!”

We both laugh. The subway opens and a homeless guy rolls a push cart into the car. He smells like expired milk and a bag of dead cats. Me and George move towards the other end of the car and away from him. Through the smell I ask, “What do you want to do with your life George?”

“Besides win the lottery? Be an actor of course!” He laughs, he’s warmed up a bit and I see a whole other side of him. “Do you have a part for me in your movie?”

I’m still not sure if he’s just fucking with me, but I play along, “Sure George. I got a KGB role you would be perfect for.”

The subway comes to a stop. It’s my stop so I stand and he rises to ask, “Alfie, can I ask you for a favor?”

I nod, “Sure. Wassup?”

“Can I barrow $20 for a pack of cigarettes?”

I step out of the car and keep a foot on the subway door, “Sure. But do me a favor. Step out of this smelly ass subway car and have one drink with me first.”

The car rings as the doors try to close. He says, “Sure.” and steps out.

It’s 7:45 AM.

The gates are still down, but through the window I can see Old Man Jay wiping down shelves and dusting bottles behind the bar. He waves his arms with a big gesture of ‘Fuck You!’ and continues cleaning.

George asks, “What time does the bar open?”

I start walking across the empty street, “8:00AM, come one we’ll go eat first.”

George follow me into a bodega, where I order us two bacon, eggs, and cheese and two coffees. We sit in a booth towards the back as he fills out a lottery sheet with one of the hotel pens. He starts, “Give me a number.”

Chewing through my sandwich I mumble, “30.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, fills in the box for 30, and continues, “Okay, give me one more.”

I finish the other half of my sandwich and notice he hasn’t touched his, “17, you not hungry?”

He fills in the box for 17, “I don’t eat pork. I’m Muslim.”

I thought he was Russian. I don’t want to ask, so I humor him, “I’ll save it for Jay.”

He shows me the card, “Okay, all done.”

I give him $20 and he walks to the counter and returns to the table with a pack of cigarettes and a lotto ticket. I sip my coffee and fuck with him, “George, what’s the point of winning the lottery if you’re going to die of lung cancer?”

“When I win, I will quit.” I place the pack on his breast pocket. “And when I win, you quit as well!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” I look out the window and see Billy across the street looking through the window as Old Man Jay is flicking him off. “When you win George, just give me enough to finish my film.”

He’s looking out the window and watches Billy patiently wait as Old Man Jay lifts the gates of the front door, “How much would that be?”

“I don’t the same amount they pay me to keep my mouth shut about what really happens at night.” I get up.

He stands, “Give me a number.”

“55.”

It’s 8:00 AM.

Me, George, and Billy are at the door of Spring Lounge just as Old Man Jay, is pulling up the metal gate. He grunts while holding the door, “Good morning boys! What can I get for you sad fucks?!”

I take a seat by the bar taps and look at the chalkboards hanging above the bar, “Morning Jay, three IPAs.”

“What are the other two having?” he laughs, as he grills George searching for a reaction, but gets none. Jay sets three pint glass on top of three coasters in front of us and then follows with four shot glasses on the bar top. With his hand free hand on a bottle of whiskey he pours, “You fellas look like you have a rough night, the shots are on me! Cheers boys!”

We shoot down the Jameson and chase it down with the beer. I feel drunk already and but not as much as Billy Blue who shakes his redden face as he takes another sip of his beer. We sit listening to oldies as the bar trickles in the other two regulars, ‘Toothless Joe’ and ‘Australian Frank’ who’s got his dog ‘Spitfire’ on a short leash. The two sit at the other end of the bar and ‘Australian Frank’ buys the next round of beers as a consolation to listening to his story about starting his morning by having to power wash some homeless guy’s shit off his sidewalk, “…that sick bastard had the runs I yah’!”

We all laugh and so enough Spitfire is reaching for the door and Australian Frank is out the door as we watch Spitfire walk across the street to squat and lay a steamy load on at park. Toothless Joe smirks, “That Australian Frank’s just full of shit!” He can’t stop laughing that he drools on himself a little bit. I start laughing and George himself can’t help but to join in.

He waves over Old man Jay and orders three shots of Vodka. He passes the glass down the line and mumbles, “Thank you for the invitation Alfie.” He raises his glass and says, “Na zdorovie!”

I clink my glass, “Whatever you said, cheers!”

Billy Blue takes the shot and starts up a cough. Jay pours him an ice water and asks if he needs a cab. Still coughing, Billy just nods. I turn to George and ask him why we works the over-nights, he answers, “My English is not so good. And I don’t like people. How about you?”

“Same.” I laugh and order another round of beers, Billy shakes his head just as a yellow cab pulls up in front of the bar, I get up to him, but he refuses and says he’s okay. We wave him good bye and watch him stumble into the cab and take off. Jay sets the beers and I continue the conversation, “I can’t do this forever George. But until then, I’ll use it to get me where I want to be.”

He sips his pint and asks, “You almost done with you film, no?”

Catching me a bit off guard, I fail to realize how much I ignore the fact that George knows everything that goes around in the hotel, between my regular Night Manager duties and my secret film crew working through the night, I never thanked him for not saying anything. I figure there’s no point in lying anymore so I humor him, “I’d be done quicker if I had more money or at least had more time to shoot.”

“I make a cameo. You don’t have to pay me.” He laughs and I see a the first genuine smile I’ve seen in a long time.

“I’ll take you up on that offer one of these nights.” We clink glasses and I thank him. I know he knows that I know that he knows and is willing enough to look the other way. It’s a mutual respect I’ve earned, by not being a hard ass on my over night team, but through trusting them to do their job and they trusting me in return. We get away with as much as we can on the over night, but we always get the job done. George excuses himself to use the men’s room and I stay at the bar talk to Old Man Jay for bit and ask him about his acting days.

George returns and thanks me and tells me he has to go home, I tell him to stay for another round, but he says he has to go to his other job. I didn’t even know he had another job.

It’s 8:15 AM.

George and I shake hands and he exits the bar. Left with no else to talk to but Toothless Joe, I ask Jay for a Jameson neat and hands me a glass, pours a heavy hand, and just leaves the bottle. The door swings open and it’s Australian Frank and Spitfire, just as he enters he back out and holds the door for a tall blonde girl with cheekbones that could slice through butter. I turn and recognize the girl, “Oh Shiza!”

Chapter 19: Simpatico

Sat, 21 Jul 2012 11:55:25 -0400

I yell “Hold the elevator!” as my foot reaches for the doors like Indian Jones, but it’s an epic fail my size 12 shoe is suddenly lock jawed by the elevator’s teeth.

“Dios mio! Lo siento!” she screams, as I remember that English is not her first language, “Que Hacer?”

“Press open! Open!” I yell as I try to yank my foot free from the cold steel box.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s not working!” Her panicky voice escaping from the space between us, the sound of her fingers repeated tapping continues in the background.

I try yanking my foot out of my shoe as I continue, “Pull the elevator stop button!”

Her red beautiful lips peaking through the gap, “Which one is that?”

“It’s a red button that says, Stop!” My shoe is too stubborn to give way, “Do you see it?”

“Yes, I think I got it!” she yells.

The elevator growls a deep buzz, but the elevator doors stay clamp. I kneel my left leg and begin untying my shoes, “Sophia, you’re going to have to push my foot out of the door.”

“Okay,” I feel her little hands already gripping my left foot, “I’m pushing.”

“That’s it!” With my right foot pushing against the elevator doors I continue, “Now just push harder!”

She yells through the gap, “Okay, I just don’t want to hurt you!”

“Just do it…” and then I fall back, my left foot free from my shoe and my ass on the cold of the tiled floor I mutter, ”Thanks!”

The elevator dings and its doors slide open with my left leather boot sitting idle as its unlaced strings hang like spinach in teeth. Through the doorway I see Sophia’s large green eyes glow like stained glass windows as we both watch the elevator doors begin to close again only to stop as it catches the boot, retracting instantly like a mouse trap, and then we just both start laughing. A moment passes and she reaches for my shoe as I hold the doors open and step inside the elevator. I start to kneel down, but she stops me.

“Please, let me.” She slips my boot back on my foot, relaces the strings, and ties them with bunny ears.

Slowly she rises and meets my chest; I realize for the first time how much taller I am than she is, I tell her, ”Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do, for almost getting your foot taking your foot off.” She laughs.

“That was my fault. I should have taken the stairs.” We both laugh.

I push B and the elevator doors close.

Standing idly side by side, I break the ackward silence, “So, where you off to now?”

She smiles, “I’m going back to my apartment and read a book.”

I turn to her, “It’s Friday night! You’re not going out? Drinking and going to a club? Don’t they party hard in Spain?”

She just shrugs, “No. It’s not for me.”

I reach my back pocket and dig out a copy of Catcher in the Rye, “In case you can’t sleep.”

She laughs and starts digging through her purse and pulls out the same red and white book with yellow lettering. She reaches for my copy and holds its side by side. My copy looks like the ugly sister, torn up, dog earred, coffee stained, and yellowed compared to hers which looks freshly bought with a Strand bookmark. She reaches back in her bag and pulls out a pen and writes in the book and hands me her copy, ”I like your’s better. Take mine.”

I reach for the book, our hands touch for moment; my fingers on hers, “Thanks.”

She smiles, “Good night!” and starts walking down the hall.

I say good night and watch her as she stops and twirls, “”In case you get bored during your shift, text me! I’ll be up reading my new book!”

Chapter 18: Fried Check-in

Sun, 15 Jul 2012 07:12:00 -0400

[INT: Coffee Shop. 8:00PM.]

Alfie, Dark Mark, Angel, and Thalia sit at a table by a window over looking the entrance of a hotel. Two black suit cases, a large green canvass military duffle, and three back packs sit at their feet.

Alfie: When you get to the entrance don’t let the bellman take your luggage!

Dark Mark: Why not? This shit is heavy.

Alfie: You got money to tip him?

Dark Mark: No.

Angel: You cheap bastard.

Dark Mark: I’m the one working for free here!

Alfie: Payment’s deffered!

Dark Mark: Not my student loans!

Angel: Damn right!

Thalia: I’m the one still in school here, thanks for the depressing post grad update.

Alfie: Listen, we shoot this, this shit goes viral, and we’ll make some money; till then, focus at the task at hand. (Beat) The reservation is under your name, Mr. Mark Black

Angel: Dark Mark is not you’re real name?

Dark Mark: Nope.

Alfie: I booked your reservation through Expedia. You just need your ID and a credit card for incidentals.

Dark Mark: I don’t have a credit card.

Angel: Bad credit?

Dark Mark: Not all of us live off mommy and daddy’s Debit card you fucking hipster!

Angel: Chupas mis juevos Maricon!

Dark Mark: Con placer pendejo!

Alfie: This is for you.

Dark Mark: An American Express gift card?!

Thalia: Brilliant!

Alfie: Ask for a smoking room, on a quiet floor, with an east facing balcony. Feel free to be an asshole about it.

Dark Mark: Come again?

Alfie: We need an empty floor to shoot. The only guest on the smoking floor are the kinds that want be left the fuck alone and if they get in the way, we’ll shoot them.

Dark Mark: You meant that figuratively right?

Alfie: You’re the camera man, what do you think?

Dark Mark: And rolling!

Angel: Tell him about the pig!

Dark Mark: The pig?

Alfie: You’re going to place the second room key in this piggy bank. After you and Thalia have unpacked all the equipment, throw the pig off the balcony. That’s going to be the signal for me and Angel to come in.

Dark Mark: Why can’t I just leave you a key at the desk?

Alfie: I used to work there, someone on at the front desk might recognize me. The bellman on the otherhand will be too stoned to care, but they will ask if we are guests. Angel will show him a key and we’ll be in the building.

Dark Mark: So what are you going to wear a disguise?

Angel: He’s going in drag!

Thalia: Are you serious?

Alfie: Did you not the read the script? We’re shooting the Episode 1: ‘Date Rape’.

Dark Mark: Yeah but I thought I would get to be the girl! I brought everything you asked.

Alfie: I know you did. I told you to bring everything you would need, but darling I need your artistic genius holding the camera.

Dark Mark: Ok, fine, but I’m doing your hair and make-up!

Alfie: Sure.

Dark Mark: How are we going to shoot the lobby scene?

Alfie: You’re going to order fried chicken from Kennedy’s and you’re going to have it delivered to the front desk.

Dark Mark: I want Popeye’s!

Angel: It’s not for you, it’s for the front desk.

Alfie: They will call to announce the delivery guy and then security will escort him up to the room. Pay for it and then and tell them you change your mind and have the delivery guy drop it for at the front desk.

Dark Mark: How do you know they’ll eat it?

Alfie: Front desk people, never say no to free food.

Dark Mark: You’re going to poison them?

Alfie: Not me, blame MSG.

Dark Mark: So they get diarhea and the lobby is empty?

Angel: Exactly.

Dark Mark: How big of a window will that give us to shoot the lobby scene?

Alfie: How much time do you need?

Dark Mark: Guerilla handheld, I’ll need half an hour.

Alfie: It’s food poisoning not instant death.

Dark Mark: You want quality work? I need quality time.

Alfie: We don’t have that luxury.

Angel: I thought it was a luxury hotel?

Dark Mark: What if we get caught?

Alfie: We finish shooting what we can and play it off like we’re just stuipd tourists. Then plan B.

Dark Mark: Plan B?

Alfie: We shoot the lobby scene tomorrow night.

Dark Mark: You’re going to call out sick again?

Alfie: Nope. We’ll reshoot in my hotel.

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Tue, 10 Jul 2012 06:42:00 -0400

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Chapter 17: Closed Curtains

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 13:26:00 -0400

It’s 6:15 AM.

Two men guard Mr. Kalashnikof’s shoulders as he sits silently on a stool bar. In line formation we wait. Watching his grey eyes scan the room like one of those scary Jesus paintings. To my right Courtney thumbs through her Blackberry and to the left George stands at attention holding Courtney’s high heels like a parade rifle. Mr. Kalashnikof reaches in his coat and pulls a cigar out his pocket and as one guard hands him a cutter and the other a lighter. He begins smoking and talking in Russian then suddenly starts laughing. George taps me and extends his hand gesturing for the the gold phone. He takes it and hands it to Mr. Kalashnikof. Who flips it open, illuminating a pair of piercing grey eyes that paint a target on my forehead so deep in my skull it hurts, ”What did the girl look like?”

I step forward, “Blonde, thin…”

He stops me and holds his phone towards my face, “Is this her?”

I step forward and see his phone screen illuminating a self shot of a naked blonde woman. I shake my head. He retracts his phone and places it on the bar top and slides it towards me, “scroll through the pictures and tell me which girl you found in the bathroom.”

Taking the phone off the counter, I do as instructed and scroll through pictures of naked women, women giving blow jobs, women kissing other women, and other various souvenirs of Mr. Kalashnikov’s debaucherous life. Then I stop. I see a bent over shot of a blonde getting taken from behind, with a Portuguese tramp stamp just above her butt cheeks, I keep scrolling. My eyes dart through thumbnails like paint samples at Home Depot, a brunette, asian, latina, black, tranny, hood rat, blonde, asian, bruntte, asian, blonde, penis, blonde, asian, black, blonde, brunette, asian, and then finally a clothed woman: blonde, thin, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut butter.

I step forward towards the bar top and hand the shiny gold phone back to Mr. Kalashnikov, “That’s her.”

His eyes locked on target he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Her eyes, were closed, but those cheeks. That has to be her.” I turn to George and show him the picture of the beautiful blonde.

He nods.

Mr. Kalashnikov grabs the phone off my hand and rises, “I have to go.” He says something in Russian and soon is out of the door.

One of the guards turns and tells me, “Mr. Kalashnikov thanks you for your service.” Then quickly is in the elevator and disappears.

I turn to George and ask, “What did he say?”

George, “The girl. Was his daughter.”

It’s 6:30 AM.

I’m sitting in the back office drafting the incident report from the party. Stating just the facts: rooms that reported the noise complaints, the time they called, secondary complaints, the first warning call, delivery of the noise complaint letter, and escorting the guests out of the hotel due to over capacity. I have to leave out all the juicy details: the two passed out bodies by the door, the orgy, the bag of coke, the purple dildo smudge with human shit, the landfill of cigarettes butts, collection of glass ware both recyclable and of the paraphernalia variety, and of course the dead hooker that ended up being a overdosed Russian Mafia princess.

I can not mention anything that involves Mr. Kalashnikov, because technically he doesn’t really exist, at least not on any of the hotel stationary, literature, or press kits. I definitely can not mention anything about all the colors of the vagina rainbow that lives in he-that-must-not-be-named’s shiny gold quarter million dollar cellphone. Nor can I acknowledge its existence nor the existence of a picture of my boss’s behind penetrated by said man-that-can-not-be-named. Mornings like these I really need a drink, I dial zero, hear the phone ring right at the front desk.

“Good Morning Front desk this is Billy. How may I assist you?”

I take the phone off the speaker, “Billy’s it’s me. Do you want to go have a drink at Old Man Jay’s?” I don’t wait for him to pause, “I’m buying!”

His smile cuts through the phone, “Uh, sure Boss!”

I hang up the phone and walk out of the back office and ask him, “How’s the newspapers?”

He turns and answers, “Master’s should be finishing up soon.”

I clip my radio to my belt, “When he gets back, ask if he wants to tag along.”

“He can’t he works at Goldman’s right after.”

“Right.”

I click on Channel 1. “George come in.”

“Go for George.”

“What’s your 20?”

“Security booth.”

“I need you to sign the incident report. Can you report to the front desk?”

“Affirmative.”

It’s 6:45 AM.

I unlock the General Manager’s office and place a copy of the incident report on Courtney’s desk. As I turn around I notice her sleeping on a red leather couch. Her blonde almost touching the carpet below, her feet dangle off the other end still covered with fluffy hotel slippers. Instinctively I take off my jacket to cover her, but retract quickly, and settle to turn up the thermostat instead. I click on the dial to a cool 69 Fahrenheit and suddenly she wakes up.

Rubbing her eyes and smudging her mascara she looks up at me, “Alfie what are you doing here?”

“Dropping off a copy of the incident report.” I hand her a tissue, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Thank you.” She sits up, “Has Kalashnikov called back the hotel?”

I shake my head. “Maybe you should just go home. Come back after lunch.”

“I think I’ll do that.” She stands up and almost falls, but I catch her. “Sorry, my leg’s still asleep.”

I place her on her feet with her arms are still around my neck. I can feel her leaning into as I turn away, “No problem.”

She places her hand on my cheek and turns my face to hers, suddenly it’s nothing blue sky, “You know I miss us. How things use to be.”

Turn away, “That was a long time ago.”

She reaches for my face again, “It doesn’t have to be.”

Then suddenly the door opens and it’s George standing at the door way me mutters, “I’ll come back later.”

It’s 7:00AM

Katherine’s little red sneakers steps out of a yellow taxi and with two ice coffees in her hands she hugs me, “Guten Morgen! How was your night?”

I open the front doors for her as she steps in the hotel, “Crazy. I left you a copy of the incident report on your desk.”

She turns around, “What really happened?”

Following her into the back the back office, “1611 had an orgy. I kicked them all out. Some girl OD’d in the bathroom. Turns out to be Kalashikov’s daughter.”

She closes the back office door, “Oh, Shiza!”

“Is that her name?”

Chapter 16: Purple Rain

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 05:39:34 -0400

I pull a brick out of the wall and stash the bag of coke in a tin can of Cafe Bustelo. This is where I hide my treasures. Things I find during during my shift: foreign coins, IDs, glass pipes stamped with burns and scars, AA chips, Canadian cigarettes, and an album of empty thumb sized baggies, all sitting on top of a small library of abandoned paper-backs. There are enough lighters and matches stuffed in this wall to burn the whole building down if not the least the rooftop bar. How it hasn’t imploded is a surprise, as it’s always over capacity, since they usually count two coked out models as one person, and have security detail sold with each table.

I grab a copy of ‘Catcher in the Rye’ from my collection and sit on the top step and read for a little bit as the hotel breathes deeply below my feet. With the bass from the loud speakers massages my toes, I finally get passed chapter 13 only to be interrupted by the sound of a swinging door. Two voices laugh and a pair of hands hit the cold wall. I tuck the book in my back pocket and secure the bricks and soon my feet dance through two floors before finding two pairs of ankles. Two men are having sex against the wall the way they do in prison movies. They stop immediately not because I’m there, but because I fail to realized I thrown up on them. The bald man looks up and meets my eyes, before I get a chance to recognize him he’s down a flight of stairs leaving behind the man with nothing more but the clothes at his feet.

I run pass the man and through the door and into the roof top bar and zip through a crowd straight through into the mens room. I run the faucet in mouth and hand the Haitian bathroom attendant a dollar as I reach for a miniature bottle of mouthwash and a single serving Lifesaver. Back into the bar I make my way through another set of mini skirts and crowns of hair gel as I take a door to the service elevator. I press L and repeatedly tap Elevator Close.

Stepping in the Lobby I notice a new face behind the front desk. I walk towards the girl with short brown asymetrical hair who looks up at me with bright green eyes and asks, “Are you checking in Sir?”

I laugh, “No, I’m the Night Manager.”

She smiles, “My apologies. This is my first time working the PM shift.”

I reach out my hand “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Alfie.”

“I’m Sophia.” She releases her corporate grip and continues, “Oh you’re Alfie. One of the hotel owners just stopped by the desk and dropped this for you.”

I thank her and take the purple envelope from her soft, small, finger tips. I tear it open and find $300. I pull the copy of ‘Catcher in the Rye’ from my back pocket, stash the money in Chapter 13, and disappear into the back office.

Chapter 15: Wake-up Call

Sat, 16 Jun 2012 10:23:00 -0400

[INT: Hotel 3:00PM]

The Director of Front Office, a small brown Filipina woman with a German accent, sits on a swivel chair as she reads from a sheet of paper. Across her, Vladimir swings his knees side to side, doodling cartoons on a note pad. By the door a skinny boy with glasses larger than his head stands with an orientation packet tucked to his side.

Kathryn: There are 6 Departures left, 2 of them are unpacked, and the housekeeping is walking the rest of the rooms. 35 Arrivals today, it should be a good training for Joey today. Vlad will teach you proper verbiage of the check-in process. Don’t forget to smile.

Vladimir: What are you talking about? I always smile!

Kathryn: Yes you do, especially when it’s time for you to leave early.

Vladimir: I’m smiling now.

Kathryn: We had a suicide attempt this morning. The guest is in the hospital and the room has been double locked.

Vladimir: How did he do it?

Kathryn: He cut his wrists.

Joey: Do you have to file a police report?

Kathryn: Yes. The police will be here shortly. Call me when they arrive.

Vladimir: Do you need me to call the murder truck?

Kathryn: We have an appointment tomorrow for deep cleaning. Joey, if any guests ask about what happened or why there is a red truck outside, don’t mention anything about the incident. We had a sick guest. He is in recovery. The truck is for a TV show.

Joey: Law & Order: SVU or CSI: NY?

Vladimir: The Kardashians!

Kathryn: Moving forward. All the welcome amenities are ready for delivery. Please go over the VIPs with Joey. We have one of the owners in the Penthouse.

Vladimir: Alright cocaine hooker party tonight!

Kathryn: Vladimir all Penthouse guests will stop by the desk. Call the room and announce them. I don’t want any issues with the Penthouse.

Vladimir: Yes Ma’am.

Vladimir: It’s going to be a fun night for Alfie!

Joey: Who’s Alfie?

Vladimir: The night manager.

There’s a knock on the door and a short green eyed girl steps inside and closes the door behind her.

Sam: Kathryn, the police are here looking for you.

Kathryn: Ok, tell them I’ll be out there shortly.

Sam: Ok, will do. Also all the departures are checked out.

Kathryn: What about the two unpacked rooms?

Sam: They called and requested we pack their luggage for them. The bellmen took care of it. It’s tagged and stored in the bell closet.

Kathryn: Perfect. How are the arrivals?

Sam: It’s getting busy.

She exits.

Kathryn: Ok, no more departures. Joey you have any questions?

Joey: Not yet.

Kathryn: Ok boys, have a good shift.

She exits the back office.

Vladimir: The police are always looking for Kathryn.

The phone starts to ringing.

Joey: Should I get that?

Vladimir: Yeah, but wait for it to ring a little more.

Joey: Front Desk, this is Joseph. How may I assist you?

Joey places the call on hold.

Vladimir: Who is it?

Joey: Somebody asking for the MOD.

Vladimir: Thank you for holding this is Vladimir.

Alfie: Hey, Vlad. I won’t be able to make it tonight.

Vladimir: You hungover already? It’s not even happy hour.

Alfie: Nah, man I got the gout.

Vladimir: Shit dude, send me a picture!

Alfie: Tell Kathryn. I have to go to the doctor and I’ll be back tomorrow night.

Vladimir: No worries.

Alfie: Thanks man.

Hangs up.

Vladimir: Alfie’s called out sick. Guess you and I are working a double!

Chapter 14: Dead Silence

Fri, 08 Jun 2012 13:06:27 -0400

It’s 5:15 AM

She’s unconscious, but breathing, and I’ve placed her on her side to prevent her from choking on her own vomit as ceramic tiles run for safety inches away from the puddle of saliva flowing from her mouth. I don’t know what to do. The 911 dispatcher asks questions on the other line and I can barely put sentences to together, so I take the folded blanket out of George’s hand and extend the phone for an exchange as I cover the woman with a top sheet. I my fingers reach for my radio as my eyes graze through valley of cigarettes, used condoms, and cotton balls. “Billy come in Billy! Is the ambulance here yet?”

“Not yet boss. I will let you know as soon as they arrive.”

“Have Masters hold the front door open so they can get in quickly. Stand by the elevator and get ready to key them up to this floor.”

“Copy that.”

I can’t tell if she’s breathing harder or if I am. I can’t even look at the woman anymore, so I focus on the little green light on my radio, waiting patiently for it pulse, and for Billy Blue to tell me that they are here. “Are they here yet?”

“Not yet.”

George stands with a dead stare as he continuously mutters “affirmative” and “yes” into a collection of responses. Then there’s a knock on the door. He reaches to hand me the phone and I hear the 911 dispatcher continue, “…Hello Sir?”

“It’s ok. The paramedics are here now. Thank you!”

It’s 5:30 AM.

I’m in the lobby giving a statement to two uniformed police officers, “I got several noise complaints for a party in the room and it was beyond capacity. So, security and I escorted the guests out of the hotel and upon inspecting the room we found the woman in the bathroom.”

The Hispanic woman writes a few notes on her pad of paper as her partner stares at the ceiling above, “That’s one hell of a mural you got up there, almost looks like real chandeliers!”

The woman nudges him on the side, “It’s a sculpture you, idiot!”

“Well, here’s my business card officer, if you need anything else. I’ll be here till 7:30 AM.” We shake hands and the two cops walk out the door.

Ken Masters shoes starts running towards my desk, his voice is faster than his feet. “Yo! I can’t believe that shit! Mexican Black Tar kills man! I tell you, you know how many of friends I lost in the eighties to heroin and AIDS?”

I am too tired to respond, but I look at him and wait for the answer that I already know is coming. “AIDS bro’. Heroin is sex in a needle without the condom and without the shitty drama. Well, there is dying. Not very cool. I haven’t had sex without a condom since 1993 bro’!”

Blue lights flash and take off as the door swings open and red soles start clicking on the marble floor as the voice follows, her voice higher her heels, “Why isn’t there a bellman at the door?!”

Ken Masters spins around and runs towards the door, his happy smile almost defuses the fire in her eyes, “Courtney! Hey boss! Good Morning!”

Her red finger nails rattle on my desk. Her new silk blouse, now stares at me like MIB flash lights ready to erase my memory with her hard pointed nipples, “Did the girl die in my hotel?”

It’s 5:45 AM.

Back in the party room Courtney is wearing white plush hotel slippers as George stands behind her holding her shoes in one hand. If her arms were any closer to each other, they’d be conjoint twins. “This is so disgusting! Ew! Is that peanut butter on a dildo?”

George quickly responses, “No Ma’am. That is human shit!”

I cover my mouth, but my laughter is stronger than my hands and suddenly I can’t control myself from laughing. George’s face is as red as the soles of those $1,000 shoes, and I can’t figure out if it’s out of embarrassment or confusion. Courtney tells me to me to shut up and stop laughing as she pulls a cigarette out of her little purse and lights up, “This room is completely trashed! Did you authorize the credit card for the additional deep cleaning fee?”

“I’ve authorized $5,000. It cleared. It’s an Amex.”

She lights a second cigarette and continues, “Good. Do you have a contact number for the guest you kicked out?”

I shake my head, “It’s an SVIP per Hotel Owner.”

“Shit.” She takes a long drag and ashes the cigarette on the floor, “Which one?”

I take her cigarette from her and smoke the short, “Kalashnikov.”

“Oh, Andy?!” She sighs and swipes open her purse, pulling out an iPhone dipped in pink rhinestones, “I’ll call him right now. I just saw him at the club!”

The phone’s ringing loud enough for the three of us to here and for some reason it’s echoing.

“It’s on speaker.”

Courtney shakes her head as the phone continues ringing and echoing, ringing and echoing. George steps as away from us and disappears. The phone continues ringing and echoing louder, ringing and echoing louder and louder. Ring and echoing, louder and louder, and louder then a voice, “Hello?”

Courtney lights another cigarette, “Hello?! Andy?!”

“No this George! Cellphone was in bathroom.” We both turn around and it’s George, holding a glowing gold phone in one hand, and a pair of high heels on the other.

It’s 6:00 AM.

“Boss come in boss!” Billy Blue’s shaking voice repeats a second round before I answer.

“Go for Alfie.”

“There’s a bunch of guys in suits down here looking for you.”

Courtney lights another cigarette and hands it to me. “Are they cops?”

“No, but one of them is Mr. Kalashnikov.”

Chapter 13: Grey Area

Fri, 01 Jun 2012 07:40:00 -0400

I step into the elevator and realize my fingers still smell like Courtney, so instead of Lobby I elbow 4. The doors open and I run through a maze of empty event space. Dodging the cameras my right shoulder grazes the shadowy blind spots of the ballroom floor as I zoom pass round tables and leather chairs. Through one last vestibule I emerge and charge through the men’s bathroom door. Then boom! I hit someone and something falls on the floor and shatters covering the ceramic grey tiles with an avalanche of white powder and shards of clear glass. Two black leather shoes stare at me with white freckles as I follow long legs topped with a pink tuxedo shirt wearing a face frozen in surprise.

“It’s not what you think.” He snaps as I reach for the housekeeping closet and grab a broom and dustpan and start sweeping the mound of cocaine and glass. He persists, “It’s not mine. I found it in here and was going to turn it into security.” Leaning close he stops me and takes the broom, “You don’t have to do that.”

I leave him be and roll a mop bucket to his side. It’s already in his hands before I can wring it dry, and soon he’s painting the floor white. Shaking my head, I grab the mop and wring it and begin swiveling figure eights until I there’s nothing left but shiny grey. I roll the mop bucket back in the closet and hand him two plastic bags as I store the broom and dust pan and secure the closet door.

Twisting the bag into a knot, he turns and reaches for my shoulder, “This never happened. Besides, what are you doing on property two hours before your shift?”

Moving his hand off of me to reassure him, “Nothing happened,” then turn to the sink and hand him a wet paper towel, “You got cocaine on your shoes.”

His eyes widen, like a pool of milk and blood as he gently cleans his pair of red soled sneakers.

Returning to the sink, I run the faucet hot, and I advice him to, “throw the bags down the garbage chute by the service elevator.”

“Which one would that be?”

I mime a square, ”The little silver door.”

He nods, “Of course,” and runs out the door.

Finally alone, I reach in the sink, lather my hands, and dry them off. I fix my tie and quickly run out the mens room and proceed through the open vestibule and reach for a side door leading to the service elevator landing. To my left a silver metal door just begins to close and moments later the elevator doors open at twelve o’clock. I step in and press B.

Reaching the basement I walk through a narrow hallway, cut a sharp right, and slide through the opening of the house keeping office. Taking quiet steps, I pass rows of industrial sized laundry machines and racks of hanging clothes leading to a collection of white push carts stretching to the other side of the room where a giant metal mouth hangs from the ceiling. Just as I reach the last bin something falls on top of a mountain of white linens - a plastic bag full of white powder and shards of clear glass.

Chapter 12: Russian Roulette

Fri, 25 May 2012 07:52:00 -0400

[INT: Brooklyn. 11:30 AM]

Alfie sits on his couch twisting a metal grinder and empties its green confetti onto a folded postcard. He rolls a joint and picks up his cellphone.

Voice: Hello?

Alfie: Dark Mark?

Dark Mark: Alfie! Why you wake me up? This a booty call?

Alfie: No, still not gay sorry.

Dark Mark: Me too. Wassup?

Alfie: I need you to shoot my movie.

Dark Mark: When?

Alfie: Soon.

Dark Mark: Wake me up when you’re ready.

Alfie hangs up and dials another number.

Voice: Alfie?

Alfie: Yes?

Voice: You called me! You want me to come over?

Alfie: Sorry, wrong number.

Alfie hangs up, scrolls down, and presses call.

Angel: Yo!

Alfie: Shooting the movie. I need a co-star.

Angel: What you paying?

Alfie: You can smoke in the room and drink from the mini-bar.

Angel: Sure, but I also want a pizza.

Alfie: You’ll get McDonalds.

Angel: When?

Alfie: Tonight.

Angel: Shit.

Alfie: I know.

Angel: (Hangs up)

Alfie scrolls further down on his contact list.

Voice: Hello?

Alfie: Tahlia?

Tahlia: Yes. Who am I speaking with?

Voice: Alfie.

Tahlia: Alfie?

Alfie: Dark Mark’s friend that works at the hotel.

Tahlia: Oh, hi Alfie.

Alfie: I got a camera man. I need a boom.

Tahlia: I have a good friend I can call.

Alfie: I’m calling one now.

Tahlia: Me?

Alfie: Yes. You free tonight?

Tahlia: Yes.

Alfie: You’re hired.

Tahlia: Really?!

Phone vibrates and another call is ringing on the line.

Alfie: Yes.

Tahlia: Thank you so much!

Alfie: I’ll text you later about the details, but right now I got to go.

Hangs up and picks up the second line.

Voice: Back from the bar?

Alfie: Yep, I’m on my couch smoking a joint and going to bed.

Voice: You want some company?

Alfie: Don’t you got work this morning?

Voice: I called in sick. It’s my birthday!

Alfie: Happy birthday!

Voice: Not yet.

Alfie: When?

There’s a knock on the door.

Voice: How about right now?

Chapter 11: Smoke & Mirrors

Wed, 16 May 2012 08:01:00 -0400

It’s 4:15 AM.

The elevator door opens and I find two bodies on the floor. George kicks a man on the foot as he clicks on his radio, “Base come in base. Two guests asleep on floor. One man. One woman. Over.”

The man is out cold. I kneel down and attempt to wake the strawberry blonde, but she just grunts as her hand twitches knocking over a jar of party mix. We follow the trail of potato chips, pretzel sticks, and Chex cereal to room 1611. The music is almost as loud as the screaming and George does not hesitate to bang on the door to match them. “Security! Security!” Nobody answers.

I grab my radio, “Billy Blue come in. Call room 1611. Over.”

Behind the music, the screaming, and George’s fists on door, we hear the telephone gasping for breath. The music slowly lowers down and we hear voices laughing behind the ringing and banging on the door.

“Hello?….No we are not having a party up here.”

“Security!” George yells and pounds dents on the door.

It opens and out spills waves of smoke down the hall and then a naked woman slides through the opening. Holding the door open with one hand and her breasts with the other she giggles, ”Can I help you Officer?”

I hand her an envelope and ask out of formality, “Are you the registered guest to room Ma’am?”

Her eyes glazed in crops of red she still giggling, “Only if you want me to be.”

George shakes his head and reaches his arm behind her, pushing the door wide open. The hallway lights flood the room, I see bodies run like vampires from the sun. My forehead tense I speak, “This is your noise complaint letter stating that room charges of neighboring guests will be charged to you room. Also your room is beyond capacity. There is not to be more than four guest in this suite. Your additional guests are to vacate the hotel, now.”

She snaps spit bubbles on my face, “Are you fucking serious?! Do you know who I am?”

Wipe my chin, I look back into her blood shot eyes, “Yes, I do. Your name is write here on the letter Ma’am. And also there are two intoxicated people in the hallway that we believe belong to your party.”

She steps into the hallway and looks down the corridor. “That’s ridiculous! We don’t know them!”

I uncover my left hand and show her a fist full of chips. “We followed the trail mix Ma’am. It led straight to your room.”

She bursts out laughing and reaches for my shoulder as I stand trying to dodge her bouncing breasts. I hold her shoulder and keep her at a distance as George slips through the door and steps in the room and turns on the light switch.

There are naked men and women huddled in corners. A couple is still on the bed having sex, the woman on top of the man just smiles unfazed. Two men walk out of the bathroom holding hands, their eyes widen as they see me and George. There hands covering themselves, missing to hide their faces smeared with white powder. A purple vibrator dances on the counter top, rattling against bottles of Champagne, glasses full of cigarettes, and an unopened basket of fruit. George holds a bag of cocaine with his two fingers and dangles it in front of the naked laughing brunette. “Do you want me to call the police?”

She stops laughing, lets go my arms, and grabs the bag of cocaine. “Ok. I’m sorry. Party’s over. Everybody out!”

I stop an Asian woman at the doorway, “You’re going to have to put your clothes back on first.”

It’s 4:30 AM.

The elevator reaches the lobby and out spills the group of vagabonds, beatniks, and hipsters. I see Billy Blue at the front desk stapling paper work as he watches a blonde adjust her exposed breast and reinserts into her tight pink dress.

A black Lincoln Navigator rolls into the loading zone and my night bellman holds the door as the fifteen people load into the SUV. He laughs to himself holding his smile, sneaking a handful of something into his pocket.

George pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his forehead, “I go write the report. Call me on the radio if you need me.”

“Copy that. Thank you, George!”

Billy yells from the desk, “Hey, Boss what the fuck happened up there?”

I just shake my head as I walk toward him and Mike Masters is already leaning on the marble slab, “We get there and the woman answers the door naked! George opens the door and it’s a fucking orgy. Coke, dildos, and champagne everywhere it was nuts!”

Mike laughs, “Dude, that hipster kid, tipped me a fat sack! This is awesome!”

“Mike, that’s something you should not tell me. I don’t want to know about it.”

Billy’s blushing, “Yeah man, that blonde with her boobs out in the lobby! Yeah man!”

“Well party’s over guys!” I look through the piles of reports that Billy Blue has spread through out the desk. “Good work Billy. Do we have any walk up calls?”

“Not till 5:30AM.”

I start walking towards the elevator and then turn around, “Good. Help out Mike with the newspapers. I’m going to walk the floor and make sure no one’s straggling around. Radio me if you guys need me.”

Billy Blue gives me a thumbs up, “You got it boss!”

I step in the elevator and hit the close button and call Dark Mark, “Get the camera ready and meet me in room 1611. Now!”

It’s 4:45 AM.

The door is ajar with the dead bolt engaged, I slowly push the door as Dark Mark, Angel, and Tahlia walk through. I enter and then quickly close the door the behind us and switch the lock and set the security latch. As I turn around I see Angel and Dark Mark scouring the room, kicking bottles aside and rattling vials of cocaine. “Don’t touch anything. We just need some footage. Angel you want to improv scene 35?”

Angel lights a cigarette, “Sure.”

Dark Mark slings the Red Camera on his shoulder, “Tahlia, can you adjust the light a bit? The lines of cocaine aren’t reading.”

Tahlia plays with the light switches as I hold her boom. Flashbacks of all the naked people half an hour ago pop on and off like christmas lights in my brain. I shake my head and open my eyes as I smell pot and see Angel smoking a joint by the kitchenette. I hit him with the boom, “Dude, don’t smoke that shit! Do you want to get fucking herpes?!”

He throws the brown cigar in the sink, “Fine!”

Tahlia taps my shoulder and I turn to her, “My boom is not a weapon Alfie!” She rips it off my hand and retrieves the rest of her sound equipment.

“Sorry.”

Dark Mark is giggling as he pans through the suite, “I’ve never seen this much condoms and lube since the gay pride parade!”

“That’s fucking gross!” Angel yells as he slides the balcony door open and lights another cigarette.

Dark Mark holds the camera towards my face, holding a pair of high heel shoes, “Can I keep them?”

I turn him to face away, “I’m pretty sure they’re not you’re size.”

“But they’re pretty. And they’re real. And I can sell them on Ebay!” He keeps giggling, until I take the shoes away from him. He droops his lips and makes me hand them back, “Ok, I’m serious now. What do you want to shoot?”

“Start with me and Angel as security walking through the door. We walk through the living room, the kitchen, the balcony, and then the bathroom.”

Dark Mark adjusts the camera and starts walking around the room. “Let’s start with a medium shot of you two through the door. We’ll cut. Turn around and I’ll follow you both there until you reach the bathroom. Then another turn around. Cool?”

Angel flicks his cigarette off the balcony and steps into the room, “Cool.”

I hold the door open and let Dark Mark and Tahlia get through as I take my position by the door way as we wait for Angel. He switches the dead bolt and preps the door to a close.

Tahlia, “Sound Speed.”

Taking my iPhone out my pocket, I slate the camera.

“Rolling. Action!”

It’s 5:00 AM.

I turn the door knob and open the bathroom door and switch on the lights. Holding the door wide open, I see Dark Mark and Tahlia’s reflection on the mirror. I step back and close the door behind me, “Turn off the fucking camera! We got to go! Now!”

Angel brushes through me and opens door, “Oh, Shit! A dead hooker!”

Chapter 10: Blue Moon

Thu, 10 May 2012 21:39:37 -0400

Her blonde hair glows like fire as shadows dance for her attention as she smiles and laughs between sips off a bottomless martini glass. She reaches for her cellphone illuminating her face; those icy blue eyes are light houses on a moonless night, but before they swallow me whole I turn and walk away. Through the cacophony I here her shoes click against the tiles, the little hairs on the back of my neck dances as the rhythm comes near. I turn a door handle and enter a dark room as she slides through and conceals the world behind her.

“You came,” her lips mutter.

I feel her breath in the darkness. I reach to find her hip and whisper, “Not yet.”

She reaches for my face and I let her hold what she finds, as I stand intoxicated by the smell of lavender and wild flowers. She inhales my breath and little by little I feel ounces of soul slowly slipping away before her breath brings back life as her soft wet lips plant my feet to the ground. Like a beautiful dance that should not end, I become a hungry fool indulging on forbidden fruit. Soft skin against my hands and sweet in my mouth, her fingers comb my hair like paint brushes. Suddenly she stands me tall and climbs me like a tree, she reaches for a grip and grabs hold with all of her soul.

Her breaths sing a rhythm as she swings between the heavens and the earth below. My hands like conductors guide the music, but it is she that leads all the higher notes. Sweat-beads drop on the floor below as my legs hold like glaciers melting against the heat. Moments pass and I feel her soft fingers grip on my hair as tremors grow below, building like waves on the sea. And soon the water hits the land; her breathing glows - slowly softening to ember as her feet land on ground.

I feel her lips reaching, but I do not move. She finds me and presses her lips against mine as she whispers, “It was nice to run to into you.” She hides her legs in skirt and disappears through the door.

My pants meet my waist and through the hallway I walk. And as I turn the corner, my eyes spot her long blonde hair glowing like fire as shadows dance around her. She turns and those icy blue eyes find me like light houses on a moonless night, but before they can capture my soul, I turn and walk out the door.

Chapter 6: Comrade [INT: Second Floor Hotel Mens Bathroom....

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 10:24:00 -0400

Chapter 6: Comrade

[INT: Second Floor Hotel Mens Bathroom. It’s 3:15 AM. Alfie sits on a closed toilet lid in a handicap stall with a manila envelope on his lap, $55,000 and a cellphone. He turns on the phone and a video plays.]

Chapter 9: Curious George

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 08:05:00 -0400

[INT: Little Italy. 8:01 AM.]

The bar is empty besides an old man wiping glasses behind a counter as Alfie is hunched over in a corner booth with a pint, a manila envelope, and a black cellphone in his hand. He plays the video again and half way through it stops. It’s ringing.

Alfie: Hello?

Voice: Hallo?!

Alfie: Yes? Who is this?

Voice: Alfie?

Alfie: George?

George: Alfie! I’m glad you my package!

Alfie: Yes I did.

George: What time is there?

Alfie: It’s 8:05. Where are you?

George: Are you at the bar?

Alfie: Is this the rendezvous point?

George: Are you drinking Vodka?

Alfie: Sure, George what is up with this package? Where are you?

George: I’m finally home Alfie!

Alfie: Did you really win the lottery?

George: I can not disclose that information at this time.

Alfie: George there’s….almost $55,000 in this envelope.

George: Remember when I asked you how much you make a year?

Alfie: Yes.

George: Did you lie to me?

Alfie: No.

George: Thank you Alfie.

Alfie: For What?

George: Never lying to me.

Alfie: George, what am I suppose to do with this money?

George: Finish the movie.

Alfie: What movie?

George: Remember when we shot the video?

Alfie: I was just fucking around.

George: Yes. But it was good, no?

Alfie: It was fun.

George: Finish the movie.

Alfie: George, I don’t know if I can do that, but I can’t take your money.

George: You can. So do. I go now.

Alfie: Where are you?

George: Home.

Alfie: Where is that?

George: Georgia.

Call Ends.

Alfie: I thought he was Russian?

Chapter 8: Fire Friendly

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 16:20:13 -0400

It’s 3:15 AM.

The fire alarm sets off with sirens and flashing blue lights and off goes my radio with Billy Blue’s voice in panic, ”Boss come in boss! The fire alarm is going off! The phones won’t stop ringing!”

“I’m on my way down the stairs.” The words slip my mouth before I realize I’m on the 21st floor, and that it would be faster to take to the elevator.

I push the button repeatedly before I realize it must have automatically been locked and sent to the subbasement. There must be a real fire.

As I grab the handle of Stairwell C, I realize Angel, Dark Mark, and Tahlia are at my tail with equipment in hand, “Leave everything in the room and take separate staircases!”

“Dude, I don’t want to fucking die in this hotel!” Angel lights a cigarette and slowly walks back to the room.

Dark Mark shrugs and grabs Tahlia’s sound equipment with his free hand and follows his lead, “I got insurance on this stuff, let this bitch burn!”

I yell down the hallway, “I have to run to the fire panel and talk to security. Evacuation site is at the park down the block. When this all gets settled, I’ll meet you all back in the room before sunrise.” I grab the door handle run down the stair case.

It’s 3:30 AM.

The lobby is a fucking circus. Firemen with gas tanks and axes run through my barricade of angry guests in boxer shorts, bathrobes, nightgowns, and lingerie. Between the yelling and the sirens competing for my attention, I have been handing out apologies and complimentary breakfast vouchers like FEMA during a natural disaster. Billy Blue is in the far corner juggling telephones, putting calls on hold, speaking on my behalf, and writing down phone numbers.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience sir, but the Fire department is currently investigating the source of the alarm.” I smile so hard it hurts.

An elderly woman in a hotel bathroom repeatedly slams her palm on the marble counter, “What about the fire? I have thousands of dollars worth of valuables in my room! Do you not understand that?! I want to speak to your manager!”

“I am the hotel manager ma’am. I apologize at this time as I am awaiting further information from the fire marshall!” I quickly turn around to look towards the fire panel blocked by the security guard and the fire marshall. I turn back around towards the guests and meet her fingers pointing at me.

She breathes out fire as I nod, “Apologies! All I ever here are apologies! This is your fault! I want my room comped for tonight!”

I look into her cataract eyes, “Ma’am the fire alarms are beyond my control. But what I can offer you is the opportunity to start your morning with a complimentary breakfast you can either enjoy in your room or in our restaurant.” I gently hand her two paper vouchers before I continue, “If you will please excuse me, I now have to speak to the fire safety director to get an update on the investigation.”

She slips the vouchers in her pocket begins to walk off. She turns back around and yells from across the lobby, “I would like to speak to your General Manager in the morning!”

It’s 3:45 AM.

The Fire Marshall reports that somebody had activated a pull switch on stair well C on the 18th floor. I apologize and hand him my business card along with several drink vouchers for the hotel bar. He hides them in his pocket and waves his men out of the the hotel. At the corner of the front desk Billy Blue is still taking calls off hold and informing guests of the false alarm, assuring them that there should be no further issues in the evening. Security stands by the fire panel behind me as I stare out the street and watch the fire engines drive away.

Billy Blue taps me on the shoulder, “Boss, it’s for you! Some, gentleman by the name of Dark Mark?”

“Tell him, I’m with a guest right now and that I will call him back.” I walk pass the security guard and around the desk and walk out of the lobby into the street.

I grab my phone and send a text message to the General Manager and hotel owners and update them about the false alarm. I call Dark Mark, “False alarm. Take the side entrance. I’ll meet you guys back at the room.” I hang up and walk around the corner see Dark Mark, Angel, and Tahlia down the block; each armed with a McDonald’s bag and drink cup. Dark Mark reaches for the door as Angel walks through. He bumps into a blonde woman and spills his drink on her. I hear the woman apologize and the three of them laugh before I swing back around the corner to head back towards front entrance and back into the hotel.

As I enter the lobby the crew disappears into the elevator. I open a housekeeping closet and pick up a mop and bucket and roll it towards the side entrance. Kicking blocks of ice out the door and wringing out the mop, the door to Stair well C opens and out stumbles one of the hotel owners, I help him up and start walking him out the door.

It’s 4:00 AM.

A Lincoln Navigator sits idling and the driver runs to help me carry the owner towards the car. He takes the man as I open the door. A blonde woman sits inside wiping soda stains off her blouse. She notices me staring and looks up, “Oh, hi Alfie!”

Chapter 7: Yellow Fever

Thu, 12 Apr 2012 07:48:00 -0400

Courtney twists her fingers around the curls of the telephone cord as she mumbling to Jason as she covers the mouthpiece with one hand. Something about the fire brigade. She tells him to find the chief engineer and to assist the fire marshall with a surprise inspection. Jason looks annoyed, stands, and walks out of the door. I get up to make my exit, but Courtney hangs up the phone and stops me, “Oh Alfie, one last thing.”

Holding the door ajar I turn around, “Yes?”

Caught between her ice cold eye, she closes the door behind me and leans in, “Stop being such a smart ass.” She kisses me, her long blonde hair brushes against my face. I push her those locks behind her ears and grab a cheek with one hand only to realize her skirt is shorter than I thought and that she isn’t wearing any underwear. Grabbing my coat she leads me towards her desk, and turns to sit me on her chair. Her legs soon meet my hips as she pulls her lips from mine. She tells me, “I’ve missed you.”

My hands hold her soft hips as I apologize, “I’ve been busy with work.”

“I can tell,” she says reaching for my belt.

I meet her hands, “We can’t do this here.”

She unbuttons my pants, “We used to before.”

I feel her red fingers nails digging on my waist band just as I stand up, I remind her, “Before it became your office.”

My pants fall to the floor, her legs still wrapped around me she unbuttons her blouse, “Don’t you miss me?”

I stop her halfway, ”Not here. Not now.”

Her blue eyes asks, “Later tonight?”

I look at the door and then back to her, “Maybe.”

She turns around and pulls her long blonde hair in front of her, “Can you help?” My fingers reach to buckle her brassiere as my eyes read just inches below: E, quando você quer alguma coisa, todo o universo conspira para ajudá-lo a alcançá-la.

Chapter 5: Gold Digger

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 08:00:05 -0400

It’s 2:15 AM.

“Cut!” Dark Mark yells a foot away from me, Angel, the open door and the hallway.

I whisper, “Dude not too loud!”

His lips droops, “The gate’s good. Going into an over the shoulder close up on Alfie. Let’s go. Rolling.”

Tahlia dips the boom just above my head, “Sound speed.”

I snap the slate and Dark Mark whispers, “Action!”

It’s 2:30 AM.

“Cut!” Tahlia lowers her boom and takes off her headphones, “Do you here that?”

A sound of moans creep down the hallway like a bad draft. A bit of goosebumps run down my skin as I slowly walk down the hallway towards the stair well door. I press my ear against the cold metal door as moans echo like a demon trying to escape a human body. I turn around and Dark Mark, Angel, and Talhia are at my tail. I slowly turn the knob and push the door ajar. We see nothing but a white wash wall, but the moans lure us like a candy trail as we tip toe down the staircase and find the orgasm factory. The woman’s hands are pressed against the wall as the man stands behind her gripping her waist as he thrusts into her. On my shoulder I feel Dark Mark’s RED camera, I shake my head, but he keeps the film rolling. I look further up the staircase and see Angel and Tahlia attempting to hold their laughter; I gesture them to go back and they give me the finger.

It’s 2:45 AM.

Dark Mark has wires running from the RED camera into the wall mounted flat screen. He fast forwards through our first few takes and hits play when a stream of sweat runs down frame to reveal a man’s butt cheeks clenching as he thrusts in and out of the blonde woman pressed against the wall. With a finger on a remote he rewinds and giggles, “He’s a beast! Look at him just destroy her!”

Adjusting her glasses Tahlia points on the screen, “She must be a classy girl. Her tramp stamp is in Portuguese.” She turns to Angel and asks, “What’s it say?”

Angel laughs to himself and slurs, “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

The three of them burst out laughing.

“Ok, turn it off.” I take the remote from Dark Mark.

Angel grabs the remote from hand, “What’s wrong Alfie? Not a fan of The Alchemist?”

I take it back from him, “We can’t use this footage.”

Angel takes the remote back again, “Why the fuck not! It’s hilarious!”

It’s 3:00 AM.

I take the remote, turn off the television, and throw the remote across the room. “Because that woman that was in the stair well and that woman in the footage is my boss.”

Chapter 4: Green Light

Tue, 13 Mar 2012 08:00:05 -0400

The video ends and I’m staring at Courtney’s teeth, they’re the kind of white that not even lasers can create. By her side Jason sits motionless waiting for me to speak, “That’s just the rough cut. I didn’t have enough time editing the rest, we had a busy weekend, if you managed to read my Night Manager Recaps. I had a false alarm rape case and sitings of the neighborhood masturbator, again.”

Courtney sighs, “He’s back? Did you call the police?!”

I sit back and check if my phone’s still in my pocket as I remind her, “I texted you during each incident. Copies of the police report are with security and here’s one on your desk.”

She flips through some pages and leans in, “I have to hand it to you Alfie, these are great shots of the lobby and bedrooms.” Courtney leans back and replays the video.

“When all the guests are checked-in, the audit is rolled, and all the reports are printed, I have a lot of down time. And instead of having my team fight to stay awake I decided to put them their time to good use.”

Jason interrupts, “By turning them into your film crew? If you’re running around the hotel shooting, who’s watching the desk?”

“There is an agent at the desk at all times and I am always available on the radio if I’m needed.” I lean back on the chair, “The rest of the crew are film students from the academy.”

Jason rebuttals, “You don’t have the authority to make those decisions nor the permission to bring non-guests and non-employees into the hotel.”

My toes point like daggers at the both of them, “If I do remember correctly during my interview, Courtney didn’t you say during my shift, I am the acting GM?”

Biting her lip she mutters, “Yes…”

Jason rises and talks for her, “…but not in this case. You brought outsiders into hotel property without proper permission from the hotel GM or hotel owners.”

I stand up, “But I did it out of the intent to contribute something more, than just these reports on your desk every morning.”

He steps closer and meets my eyes, “Alfred, your job description was handed to you at orientation. Your responsibilities are to keep the hotel in order until a higher authority arrives in the morning…

Courtney stands and coddles Jason’s shoulder, “This is just the rough cut?” I nod and focus on her scary dark blue eyes as she continues, “I’m giving you two weeks to finish a final cut. If it’s perfect, I’ll present it to the board for the second quarter meeting.”

“And if it’s not?”

She pulls CP30 out of he laptop, recaps his helmet, and hands him back to me. “Then you go find yourself a career as a producer, because you’ll never work in this industry again.”

Chapter 3: Right Place Right Time

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 08:00:06 -0500

[INT: Hotel lobby. 11:00PM the front desk is empty, besides a security guard at the fire panel and the night manager walking into frame.]

Alfie: You think we’ll have a smooth one tonight?

Toolittle: If only god is willing.

Alfie enters his office and on his desk he notices a manila envelope on top of his keyboard. To his left Vladimir, the PM manager is on his computer watching a TV show on Hulu. The credits appear and he turns.

Vladimir: Somebody dropped that off for you. We were trying to figure out if it was drugs. It’s definitely not pot, so if it’s coke can I have a bump before I go?

Alfie: You can have a bump the day you don’t leave the office with a mess for me to clean up.

Vladimir starts picking up empty plastic cups sprinkled in the office.

Vladimir: Hey man, I try.

Alfie hands him paper bags off his desk and coffee cups.

Alfie: How about you try?

Vladimir: You sound like my mother. Anyway did you hear about George?

Alfie: I haven’t seen him in months! I miss that guy! Did he go on vacation?

Vladimir: You can say that. He won the fucking lottery!

Alfie: What? (The two now face each other) His number finally came up!

Vladimir: Yeah, a good $134 Million! Which reminds me, you want to chip in the pool?

Alfie: I don’t believe in the lottery.

Vladimir: It’s only a dollar!

Alfie: Now you sound just like George.

Vladimir: Exactly!

Alfie: Here take it!

Vladimir: George was always asking me to borrow money. Never did lend him any though, and now I wish I had. Could you imagine?

Alfie: I’m saving my luck for something else.

Vladimir: What’s better than a shit load of money?

Alfie: A lot things.

Vladimir: I got to go. My girlfriend is meeting me around the corner for a late dinner. Anything you need before I go?

Alfie: No, have a good night!

Vladimir: I’ll buy the ticket tomorrow. I’ll leave you a copy on your desk, ok?

Alfie: Yeah, yeah.

Vladimir exits.

Alfie picks up the manila envelope and pulls off the flap, and looks inside. It’s money.

Chapter Two: Rain Man

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 08:04:00 -0500

It’s 1:15AM.

My over night agent is in the subbasement cafeteria scavenging whatever hand me downs were left over from the family meal. My night bellman is nowhere to be found, but if I would have to guest he’s probably curled in a fetal position in one of the cubbyholes in the bell closet. I star at the blue screen in front of me and pretend to be busy as guests return in sprinkles, silently stumbling towards the elevator.

It’s 1:30AM.

My eyes are darting back and forth between the blue screen below and the revolving door straight ahead, then in the corner of my eye, it begins to turn and Dark Mark bee lines for the front desk like a defensive lineman. Behind him are Tahlia and Angel each holding black and yellow carry cases. I slip him an envelope and the three disappear in the elevator just as Billy Blue hugs the corner with a can of Pepsi in his hand.

I open the back office door for him and ask, “How was the pasta?”

Setting down his Pepsi on a work desk he turns to me, “Not bad. Anything happened while I was on gone?”

“It’s dead. I’m going on break and then going to make my rounds. Radio me if you need me.” I’m in the elevator before he can response.

I push the door open on 2115, lock the dead bolt, and set the safety latch. Dark Mark has already assemble the Red camera, as Tahlia preps her sound equipment.

Angel walks up to me, “How much time we got?”

It’s 1:45 AM.

I take my jacket off and roll my sleeves, “An hour, maybe two. It’s slow, so let’s just see how much we can do tonight.”

Mark hands me the sides, “Lighting in ten minutes. You guys want to run your lines?”

“Of course. Where’s Angel?” I follow the smell of cigarettes to the balcony and twist open the door. “Security. Is there is problem in the room sir?”

He turns and blows smoke in my face, “Why yes of course! There’s a fucking ghost in my room?”

“Sir I assure you that is not the case…” I step back into the room, “Not to loud, there’s actual guests two floors below.”

He steps in the room still smoking, “Bullshit!” He steps back outside and throws his cigarette off the balcony as he walks back into the room.

Dark Mark yells from across the room, “We’re ready for rehearsal!”

Angel steps on his mark as Tahlia measure his distance from the camera. He mumbles, “…by the way there’s a naked guy masturbating on the balcony below us.”

It’s 2:00 AM.

Dark Mark’s eyes rise, “Is he hung?”