Chapter 3 #3
“You’re welcome. Oh, and I have some leftover echinacea tea in here. I’m going to leave it at your door on my way out. For the most benefits, cover your mug with a saucer or plate and let it steep for 15 minutes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just let it sit and soak,” I chuckled. “It will pull out all of the flavors and the good parts of the plant. Covering the mug before you let it steep will also help trap the helpful plant oils,” I explained.
“Okay. I hope all of this really helps.”
“I promise it will. I sure hope you feel better soon.”
“Oh, me too. This shit is terrible,” she vented, then coughed some more. “I just texted D3 that you’re going to drop the clothes off. I’m going to text you his number.”
“Okay. Turn that phone off and get some rest. I’ll get this stuff to D3. You need to save your energy and get some rest after you drink the tea,” I encouraged.
“I promise I’m about to do just that.”
“Okay. I’ll check on you later,” I promised.
By the time we ended the call, I was already seated in front of my iMac, typing out the email to the manufacturer and ensuring that Amill was CC’d.
Q was usually Khaleesi’s sole client, but he was willing to share her with the artist my father recently discovered.
He knew what it was like to fight his way into the industry and was rooting for anybody out of Florida.
I’d met D3 on a few occasions and we’d exchanged pleasantries.
He’d been trying to get Q on a track with him, but they hadn’t been able to get their schedules on the same page to make it happen.
I grabbed the three garment bags from the racks and headed out.
The hotel was fifteen minutes away. A few minutes out, I texted D3 for his room number because I still didn’t have it.
Luck was on my side because one of the handful of parking spots that were across from the entrance was vacant.
I placed my SL 63 in park and rolled my eyes when I lifted my phone to a black screen.
Exiting the car, I called D3 as I sauntered through the entrance.
My day was already mapped out, and running down D3 wasn’t a part of my plans.
On an average day, I wouldn’t leave my client’s clothes with the front desk because I did that once in the past, and those thieving front desk agents stole the items and pretended I never left anything for my client.
However, D3 left me with no choice. The breeze whipping against my face felt amazing as the sun warmed my skin.
My thick bushel of curls was pulled up into a pineapple atop my head, leaving my neck and shoulders exposed in the off-the-shoulder sweater I threw over my cropped cami and legging set.
On the drive home, I was definitely letting the top down to soak up the sun and breeze.
Entering the hotel, I marched over to the front desk with a smile on my face. He’d better hope this woman didn’t steal his shit.
“Good afternoon, thank you for joining us. How may I help you today?” The beautiful, brown-skinned woman greeted me, her head bouncing from side to side with each word. I read her name tag. Hailey had enough energy for all of us, and I hoped some of it rubbed off on me since we were so close.
My phone vibrated with a text from D3, so I offered a curt smile. “Actually, my friend just texted me their room number. I’m just going to head up. Thank you so much,” I smiled, directing my steps towards the elevator.
“My apologies. Our elevators have to be unlocked for you to access them. You’ll have to tell the guest to call the desk and grant you permission, then I’ll be happy to unlock the elevator for you.”
I lifted my phone to text D3, but the woman’s voice stopped my typing.
“Oh, this is him calling now,” she chirped. “Just give me one moment,” she grinned, lifting the phone for a few seconds.
I spun around to scan the ground floor of the hotel to see if their bar looked worthy of a trip.
With Q attending meetings during the day and hitting the studio at night, Khaleesi sick, and Amill recovering after a night out, I’d probably chill in the house for the rest of the day.
A lychee martini before I took it in for the night wouldn’t hurt.
“Okay, Ms. Jameera, I can unlock the elevator for you to go up,” she smiled.
I followed her over to the elevators, and she pressed the button, looking at me suspiciously. “You look so familiar. Do you stay at this hotel regularly?”
“Not at all,” I clarified, refusing to help jog her memory. The last thing I wanted was to deal with fangirling by proxy. It was always awkward when people would get excited to meet Q’s girlfriend.
The elevator chimed, and the door slid open.
I stepped inside as the woman tapped a keycard against the panel and hit the button for the fourteenth floor, then stepped back off.
With the garment bags weighing me down, I was relieved to step off the elevator and see the number 1425, which meant D3’s room was only a few doors down.
I lifted my hand to knock on the door, but a large man in a black jogger set opened it.
“Jameera?”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“You can take it in. We were just talking about possibly missing you because we’re about to take off.”
“Well, I made it,” I sighed, extending the garment bags in his direction.
“Oh naw, I’m going down to have valet pull the truck around. You can take it inside.” He stepped to the side to allow me in.
I stepped inside, and a woman with an iPad in her face greeted me with a smile. “Hi Jameera, I was in a panic thinking you might not make it. I’m D3’s assistant, Emily.”
“Hi Emily, I made it. Do you guys have somewhere to hang the bags?” I scanned the room.