Chapter 16
Simmons
The steam follows me out of the ensuite as I make my way to the bed where my clothes for tonight are waiting for me. I scrub at my hair to dry it, leaving the rest of my body to drip-dry. Being as hairy as I am, it’s just easier to let nature do the work for me.
“Hi, I have a note for a… Simmons?” A young guy staring at me from gold-rimmed glasses that are far too big for his small face says to me.
I look around him, then do a swift check left and right. Hmm… no Freddie. Then my brain comes back online.
“A note?” I ask the kid in front of me. His hand is outstretched with an envelope that I now realise he’s been holding the whole of this interaction.
“Oh, yeah, I’m Simmons,” I tell him with a frown as I take the note from his manicured hand. He turns to take off but looks at me over his shoulder.
“If it were me, I would have shown up,” he says, making no effort to hide the fact that he's slowly checking me out, ending it with a wink. Then he’s gone, having turned the corner to where the lifts are. Okay, then.
I stare at the envelope, still confused who else apart from Freddie would know my room number, and the feeling of dread washes over me with a side of hurt. I kick the door closed and sit on the edge of the bed to tear the note open and read it.
hey big bear,
I’m really sorry but I have to raincheck our booty call
the devil works hard, but I work harder ;)
I’ve stuck my number at the bottom, dont be stranger
one of these days you’ll dick me down!
for now, apologies to Simmons junior
speak soon
Freddie
8=====D
Did he sign his name with a… dick? I snort as I shake my head.
What a brat. Gutted as I am, I’m glad to have his number finally.
I felt a genuine connection to Freddie when we first met, and then the second and third time too.
There’s just something about him that pulls me in.
I re-read the note a couple more times and even attempt to hear his thick accent as I do but even in my mind, I can’t do it justice.
Maybe if we start chatting, he will send me sexy voice notes.
Putting the note on the side table, I reach for the minibar, my mind now on spending the night flicking through hotel TV channels and drinking the minibar dry at Burt's expense.
As if my thoughts have reached the man himself, my phone vibrates with an incoming call from him. I break the neck of the small vodka and pour it into the glass I found when brushing my teeth this morning.
“Hey, how’s your mama? Baking away, I hope,” I tease as I sip the haughty spirit.
“You know she always is, Simmons. I wanted to call. Check in. How was the interview? I’m not coming home to be cancelled, am I?”
I know he is just kidding, but a part of me worries as I think back to the interview. Was I inappropriate? Was I professional enough? When I found out it was Freddie doing the interview, everything fell away and all that mattered was being with him in the same room with no one else around.
“I felt it went well. I answered the questions as best I could. It didn’t deviate too much from the ones I was sent beforehand, and the interviewer was kind and not too intrusive.”
Sometimes when inquiries came in for the club, they could border on creepy or overly intrusive.
It was something I never thought would happen, but like anywhere you work or community you join, there’s a small percentage who lack respect and privacy.
With Nyctra being so exclusive, there was no way I would have let the interview continue if it had gone that way.
A part of me wanted to tell my old friend about my new infatuation with the interviewer, but I knew Freddie kept his online presence separate from his life away from work, and I wanted to respect that. So, for now, Freddie would be my secret.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I’ll send them a thank-you gift for a great interview! Have you got plans before heading home? You could use some fun in your life, friend.”
God, don’t I know it. But I sigh knowing that the only fun I was having tonight would be with my left hand.
“There’s an afterparty for the expo, why don’t you stop by,” Burt says when I don’t reply.
“Yeah, maybe. I have some grading tomorrow so I might just go for an early night,” I lie.
I hear his own sigh at my indignation, and he resigns his push for me to get laid and tells me a little of his adventure home, his mother, and when he intends to be back for work. We say our goodbyes, and I look down at my pathetic warm drink as I promise him to have fun soon.