Harassed
Life was about to get interesting. My heart thumped in my chest as I readied myself for what I was about to do.
In the few steps before I reached the hotel entrance, my appearance shifted swiftly without anyone noticing.
The Seahawks ballcap landed in a trash can.
My purse found its way into the spinner’s side pocket.
My hair, freed from the scrunchie that had held it in place, bounced on my shoulders as I shook my head and ran my fingers through it.
Finally, my denim jacket landed on top of the spinner, woven through its handle.
In about twenty feet, I’d become a different person.
Still anonymous, but no longer the woman with the Seahawks ballcap.
Now I was the woman with the long, wavy blond hair and a tightly stretched, deep V-necked T-shirt.
No one cared to look at my face anymore—not when they could plunge their eyes down my cleavage.
As I entered the hotel, the conditioned air flowed at me with the strength of a small icy tornado. The soaring ceilings and expansive windows stopped me in my tracks for a moment.
I walked over to the reception desk, carved from polished stone and staffed by uniformed personnel. A receptionist invited me to approach with a smile. I smiled back.
“Welcome to ARIA,” she said in a pleasant voice. “How can I be of assistance?”
I raised my sunglasses to the top of my head. “I have a reservation for Olivia Taylor.”
Her eyes darted to the screen. “Yes, Ms. Taylor, we have you here. Two weeks in a Sky Suite, is that correct?”
I nodded, my throat dry as I recalled the price tag on that room. “Yes, thank you.”
Her smile widened. “Perfect. I’ll need your driver’s license and a credit card to have on file for incidentals.”
“Well, my purse was stolen on the flight over. The best I can do for both is tomorrow. No one’s open today; it’s Sunday. But tomorrow, the DMV will give me a replacement license, and I’ll get a debit card issued at the local bank.”
Her eyes darted around nervously. “Well, I’m not sure—”
“The room is paid for, right?” I clasped my hands together on the counter and looked her straight in the eye. “My company took care of that.”
“Yes, it is, but it’s—we can’t . . .” She sounded apologetic but concerningly firm.
She was about to send me away.
“Listen,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’d prefer if I didn’t have to stay with family tonight.
They can be a little, um, overbearing.” I reached over the counter and squeezed her hand.
“Everyone knows how much of a pain in the ass Russell Taylor can be,” I whispered, referencing the owner of one of the largest casino resorts in Vegas, and ARIA’s direct competitor.
“I really don’t want to go there tonight. ” I scrunched my face in disgust.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, that Taylor?”
I shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it. Could you help me, please? I’ve been away for a while, and now I’m back home. Tomorrow morning, I promise, the first thing I’ll do is visit the DMV. And I won’t order any incidentals. I don’t want you to get in any trouble for helping me.”
She pressed her lips together for a quick moment, but then her professional smile returned in full bloom.
“Oh, no problem, Ms. Taylor. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to ARIA.
Order whatever you’d like. I’ll put a note in here.
” She typed quickly on her keyboard, every now and then looking at me reassuringly.
“Your suite is on the thirty-fourth floor. The elevators are straight past the lobby and then across the casino floor, behind the Lift Bar. I added a couple of spa vouchers to your account. And I’ll get a bellhop right away. ”
Holding my hand up, I smiled back. “No need for a bellhop, I’ll be fine. You’re a lifesaver, Jenny,” I said, reading her name off the tag affixed to her jacket.
“You’re most welcome, Ms. Taylor.” She placed the key cards on the stone counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
“Is it possible I could get a copy of the receipt for the room?” I asked, taking the key card.
As she finished checking me in, I typed a fast text on my phone. A moment later, a chime warned me I had a reply. I glanced over it quickly. It was a simple thumbs-up, but it brought a flicker of a smile to my lips. Tony Vega seemed to be a man of very few words.
A moment later, armed with the receipt, the key card with the room number scribbled in Jenny’s handwriting, and the Wi-Fi password, I thanked her once more and turned toward the elevators. I had a ways to go.
I walked away from the reception desk toward the casino floor, across a dazzling expanse of glass and light, polished marble reflecting the chandeliers overhead.
The hum of conversations blended in with the clink of glasses, the clacking of high heels, and the distant sounds of casino slot machines.
I walked slowly, taking it in, breathing in the zest for life emanating from everyone there, relishing the exhilarating energy that seemed to seep into my veins.
I might’ve been halfway through the immense lobby when three or four men surrounded me, hollering, taking pictures, and flashing their cameras in my face.
“Where have you been all this time?” one of them shouted, three feet from my face. He was a tall man with three-day stubble and dark, oily shoulder-length hair. “Smile for me, Princess,” he jeered, bringing his camera lens just inches from my face.
I shielded myself with my hand and quickly lowered my shades. “Get out of my way,” I said, rushing toward the casino floor on my way to the elevators.
“Hey, Olivia!” another man shouted. “Did you miss Vegas?” He waved a large camera around, taking countless shots while I kept rushing toward the elevators. Everyone surrounding us turned to stare at me, some whispering and others pointing, but most of them commenting out loud.
“Who is that?” they asked in different voices and pitches and accents.
They gawked at me, some rushing alongside to catch more of what was going to happen, spurred by the same morbid curiosity that makes drivers slow down at accident scenes and turn into complete rubbernecks: the perpetual quest for excitement.
I kept shielding my face with my hand, my eyes hidden behind the lenses of my shades. When one of the paparazzi touched me, I shrieked and stepped sideways. “Leave me alone!” I said.
He tried to stop me, stepping in my path and blocking my way.
Two hotel security guards grabbed him, leading him quite forcefully away.
The other paparazzi were invited to leave the area by men dressed inconspicuously in black suits, and they complied.
By the time I reached the elevators, the casino had resumed its usual bustle of activity. Only a few people still stared at me.
When I reached my room, I waited for the heavy door to close behind me and latched it. Then, my chest heaving, I waited while the curtains whirred open with the touch of a switch, inviting sunshine into the luxurious space. Outside the window, the entire city lay at my feet.
It was all coming together perfectly. Just like I’d planned it.
By the time I finished a long and satisfying shower, a message awaited me on my new phone.
I opened it and reviewed the attached photos, each one taken earlier by those paparazzi in the hotel lobby.
With a frown, I assessed them quickly, moving back and forth through the stack until I decided on the best one. I sent it back and added a note.
Excellent work, Tony. There’s a bonus for you if you make it happen by tomorrow.
Defense Attorney Blake: What kind of person was your former boss, Ms. Crosswhite?
Rose Crosswhite: He was ambitious and a visionary . . . truly charismatic. People followed him out of conviction. His relentless drive and high energy levels transformed our team and made us who we are today.
Defense Attorney Blake: Would you say he was easily swindled?
Rose Crosswhite: Swindled? Not in the least. But that was before—
Defense Attorney Blake: You’re saying he was a rational, thoughtful man. Is that correct? Not easily taken in?
Rose Crosswhite: That is correct.