Chapter 12 Christopher
Monday
My body shakes as I attempt to pay attention to Imani, the night manager I’ve crossed paths with a few times now. She’s using a megaphone to update the growing crowd of hotel guests, mingled with Alexander’s fans, on the ongoing situation.
I look like a drowned rat. When I’d run out of the hotel earlier, fearful of a fire engulfing the building, I’d instantly been caught by the downpour.
I’d made my way to the back of the hotel, squeezing myself underneath the marquee-style roof that extended from the door to the railway station, along with at least fifty other guests.
If I had known we’d be stuck out here this long, I’d have grabbed something warmer and more waterproof from my room.
“Thank you for your patience, everyone. We’ve contained the issue, and it’s now safe to return to your rooms,” Imani announces.
Audible sighs come from the crowd. “Please have your room keys ready to show the doorman as you reenter the hotel.” She drops the megaphone down beside her and turns back into the hotel.
I take a look around as the crowd starts moving toward the hotel entrance, trying to locate anyone from Alexander’s team.
But I don’t notice anyone who might be part of his entourage.
Rob clearly isn’t here. He’d be impossible to miss, even if Alexander was able to blend in. Which means they’re not here.
Maybe they kept him inside?
“Escuché que uno de esos fanáticos irrumpió en el hotel!” a woman in front of me says to her partner, as we slowly edge closer to the door.
My Spanish is terrible, but from the look of contempt on her face, it’s clear that she believes one of the fans is responsible.
Maybe that’s why Alexander isn’t here. It wasn’t a fire; it was a threat to his safety.
“Excuse me, sir,” she says as she shows her room key to the doorman. “Was there a break-in at the hotel?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am,” he says, opening the door for her. She shakes her head, mumbling again in Spanish while following her partner through.
“Room key, sir,” the doorman says, closing the door behind the couple. There’s a solemn look on his face.
“One moment.” I step aside to let the other guests pass as I rummage in my pockets, trying to locate it.
I’m sure I had it with me when I left my room for Alexander’s.
I remove my phone and turn my wet jean pockets inside out, but nothing other than a couple of one-pound coins appear.
“I must have left it upstairs,” I say, pushing my pockets back in and tucking my phone inside.
The last of the hotel guests are making their way back in, leaving me outside with a dozen or so fans. They seem blithely unaware of the rain, drinking cans of whiskey and coke and Pimm’s and playing Alexander’s songs through a mini speaker.
“Sir, you’ll need to make your way round to the front and speak to reception to verify that you’re a guest.” The look on the doorman’s face has been replaced with one of contempt.
“You’re joking, right?!”
I’ve not been out here in the cold and wet for over an hour just for some douchebag to make me walk back to the main entrance through the pouring rain.
“I am not joking, sir,” he says, his hand still firmly on the door handle.
“You could at least offer me a brolly.” I nod toward the handful of umbrellas just to the right of him.
“These are for verified guests only.”
I realize I’m fighting a losing battle, and every moment stuck here playing “whose dick is the smallest” is a moment that I could be back in the warm hotel. Sleeping. Or with Alexander.
I sprint for the front, and by the time I make it to the front entrance, I’ve gone from looking like a drowned rat to a wet mop that lost its will to clean.
I hit a similar snag with the doorman at this entrance but, this time, thankfully, I catch Imani’s eye through the glass panel of the door.
“Ask Imani, she knows I’m staying here.” I struggle to get the words out as I catch my breath. I just see the doorman’s head turn and Imani’s head nodding.
After a brief pause, I’m finally allowed through. Imani greets me when I walk into the lobby.
“You poor soul, you’re soaked through to the bone!” She places a warm hand on my arm. Her dark eyes look weary. “You haven’t been stuck out in the rain all this time, have you?”
I shake my head No, as I try to slow my breathing down. And I try to push down my anger at the doormen for being assholes. I have a mind to put in a complaint, but I don’t know how close Imani is to them, and I don’t want to cause more issues for her. She’s probably had a hell of a night.
“They wouldn’t let me in because I didn’t have my room key. Made me walk all the way round to the front.” I exhale and drop my shoulders.
“He did what?” She turns to look back at the door as we reach the concierge desk. She shakes her head before turning her attention to her colleague.
“Can you get this gentleman a towel and a room key? It’s Room 506, right?” she asks me.
“It is.”
As I reach across the desk for the towel her colleague passes over, I’m taken aback by how Imani recalls my room number. She seems to know everything, so I take a chance with her while waiting for a new room key to be activated.
“You haven’t seen Alexander return yet, have you?” I start rubbing my hair dry, before wiping down my arms and clothes.
“Who?” Her forehead crinkles as her eyes narrow.
“Alexander Morgan,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper.
“Oh, sorry. I know him as Avril Lavigne.”
The mere mention of the name puts a smile on my face. I guess his team is back to using that pseudonym again.
Her brief pause gives me the sense that there’s something she wants to tell me, but can’t. Her colleague holds up the door key and hands it over. I mouth Thank you, and hand the towel back.
Imani inhales deeply and motions me forward toward the elevators on the opposite side of the lobby.
“You promise to keep this between us?” She widens her eyes at me.
It seems like today is a day full of being asked to keep secrets.
“Yes,” I say emphatically.
“You know the actress, Rita Watson?” I nod again as a cold shudder runs straight down my spine.
“Well, she came into the hotel tonight demanding to see Avril— I mean Alexander.” Imani shakes her head.
“Poor Sheila over there,” she points her thumb at the staff member who handed me the towel, “tried to calm her down. But she seemed to be in a drunken rage. When Sheila refused to let Rita know what room he was in, she stormed away. Next thing we knew, the fire alarm was set off.”
Jesus.
No wonder Rob was so concerned when he burst into the room earlier.
“Please tell me she’s not still here.”
“No,” Imani says, stopping by the round table. The faint scent of the hydrangeas makes its way through my bunged-up nose. “One of our security team managed to detain her. They kept her out of harm’s way until the police arrived.”
Just as my muscles begin to relax, the hotel entrance bursts open. Rob comes through, followed by Alexander, his head lowered and the drawstrings pulled tight on his hoodie, and five other people, including Paul.
I start to call out Alexander’s name, but stop, not wanting to draw attention. Rob catches my eye.
“You coming?” he asks, though it’s more a command than a question.
I sheepishly follow, almost knocking over the flower vase in the process, mouthing Thank you to Imani as she smiles back.
Inside the lift, Alexander pulls back his hood, and his face instantly lights up when he notices me.
“Have you been out in the rain all this time?” The puppy dog look in his eyes melts away the coldness I’m still feeling from being stuck outside for so long.
I take a quick look at my reflection in the golden elevator doors, instantly regretting it. I really have seen better days.
“Long story,” I say.
As we reach the third floor, the red-headed woman leaves the elevator followed by the blond-haired woman.
“Night,” they both say in unison.
“Night, Lucy. Night, Connie,” Alexander says, a faint smile rising on his face.
I try to file away their names.
Lucy. Connie. Lucy. Connie.
Who am I kidding? I’m never gonna remember them. I shake my head.
“Night,” Rob adds in a monosyllabic tone.
Clearly, Rob is just as tired and pissed off by this whole fire alarm situation as I am. I wonder if they already know the real reason the alarm went off.
At the fourth floor, the remaining two women exit—a brunette and a woman with a pixie cut who is nearly as tall as Rob.
“Eleven a.m. at the suite right?” the tall one asks, turning back once out of the elevator.
“Yes,” Paul says, looking up from his phone. The closing doors prevent him from saying anything else. Though, from our interaction earlier, he seems to be a man of few words.
Finally, the elevator reaches our floor, but as I go to step out, Rob stops me, placing his hand firmly across my chest. He nods at a security guard waiting opposite us.
“Hold fire for a second. We all clear?” he asks to the security guard.
My discomfort has me reaching for a funny one-liner, but I stop myself. This is not the time for humor.
“Affirmative,” the guy responds.
Rob motions Alexander forward, and the security guard moves ahead of him down the hallway as Rob exits. I motion for Paul to exit before me.
“I’m on the top floor.” Paul’s nostrils flare.
Fine. Be a dick.
I shake my head as I exit. Alexander and the security guard are already halfway down the hallway, and I get the feeling that maybe Alexander and I won’t be picking up from where we left off.
I hover by my door momentarily, retrieving my new room key, before Rob comes back down the hall toward me.
“What are you waiting for?” Rob points toward Alexander’s suite.
Maybe I’ve got Rob wrong. There’s a firm but kind side appearing tonight.
Maybe the rudeness I experienced during those first twenty-four hours was actually him being overly protective of Alexander, rather than anything to do with me.