Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (30 page)

That’s the perfect
name for this guy; he looks just like the redheaded puppet.

Jules smiles and
swims closer. “Hi,” she says. “I guess that guy’s just like the rest of us out
here tonight - drunk off our
asses
,” she laughs. “Hope
he doesn’t cause a fight.” She starts to swim away, but
Mera
tugs her back.

“Stay here for
awhile. I’m
Mera
and this is Mark.”

“Sarah.” She nods as
Mera
offers her some beer. “Thanks, I’ll have a few
sips.”

I’m fascinated with
the show she’s putting on and curious if she has a plan or if she’s just along
for the ride. I told her I’d take care of
Mera
, but a
united kill could be the next step in our relationship. Like she said, we both
have the power. We’re one. It’s why I asked her down here in the first place,
not to kill, but to be a part of it. It would be like taking the plunge into a
joint bank account.

“You here alone?”
Mera
asks.

“Yeah, traveling
from California to Vegas. You?”

“I’m going to Vegas
too... so what’s your plan when you get there?”

Julia drinks and I
can tell she’s trying to think of a response. “I got a job at Peek’s Lounge,”
she finally says.

“The strip joint?”
Mera
gasps. “That place pays well.” She’s intrigued, moving
closer to Jules, placing a hand on her leg and smiling pretty at her new
friend
. And Jules is fucking working her
better than I ever could. Shit, leave it to a woman to school another woman.
But, how the fuck does she know about...

“Have you been to
Peek’s Lounge?” I ask.

Jules takes another
long drink before responding. “Yes, for an event called
One Night Stained
. Lots of cock on stage that night.”

“Sounds like total
stud action!”
Mera
becomes a wide-eyed kid. “Peek’s
makes a bundle off their women, but I never knew they had men there too.”

“Yah.” She nods and
I can tell she’s making this shit up, and doing a damn good job of it. She’s
lucky
Mera
doesn’t catch on.

“Are they still
hiring?”
Mera
asks.

She nods, placing
the beer on the concrete behind us “You can follow me there in the morning if
you’d like. I could use the company on the road, especially when I stop for gas
and lunch.”

“It’s a date.”

“Good, I love
dates
.” She smiles, gaining
Mera’s
trust in less than five minutes, which confirms how
lonesome
Mera
truly is.

“
Saaarah
!”
The drunken shit returns. “Swim over here, baby. Let’s talk about that finger
of yours.”

“Busy,” Jules says.
I pull her next to me and she wraps her legs around mine while
Mera
does the same on my opposite side.

“Hey shithead, is
that your daughter?” the drunk sneers. “Let her go so she can be with someone
her own age, unless you enjoy molesting your kid.”

“You fuck.” I rush
forward.

The guy tosses his
drink poolside and hurries out, running behind a lounger, yeah, like a wood
chair’s
gonna
protect him. That’s what I thought,
pussy. Who’s the tough guy, now?

“Thanks,” Jules
says.

“I’ll be right
back.”
Mera
swims off. “Need to pee.”

Jules takes the beer
and follows her. “I’m coming too.”

“Wait,” I whisper,
hoping she has her
Berti
.
Mera’s
a fucking moron, but it’s possible she’s playing right along with our game and
knows Jules and I are together.

My eyes are glued on
her as she walks through the water with the raised bottle, her head turned,
giving me a reassuring smile. Come back to me.

“Be careful,” I say.

“There’s safety in
numbers!”
Mera
calls out as she turns her nose up at
the drunken asshole and walks into my hotel.

I know Jules
understands my reference is to
Mera
and not the
drunk.

“Sarah, your tits
rock. Come hang... hang with my long schlong and me. Maybe I can squeeze it
between ‘
em
.”

That bastard. If he
takes one more step...

“What do you say?
Can I get a
titty
sandwich? I’ll pay
ya
. Ten bucks.”

“Get your hand off
me.” Jules frowns, glaring at his firm grip on her arm. She clenches a fist in
preparation to strike.

“Don’t hit him,” I
yell, calling security on my watch as I’m speeding through the water. “Pool
area, now,” I order. “If two of you are here tonight, I need you both out
here.”

“I’ve got a king
suite and a king schlong that needs some
lovin
’.
Let’s party, baby.” He starts to draw her inside, yanking her arm and gripping
her neck. She pulls back, struggling to get away.

“Fucker! You’re
dead!” I shout.

A group of men by
the door cheer, spurring him on. “Remember to follow the law!” one laughs. “Use
a condom even if she says no.”

I’m finally out and
Joe, my security guard, is also on the scene, arriving a moment before I pound
the shit out of the prick.

Jules is released
and the drunk immediately raises his hands, denying anything’s wrong. She takes
her sweatshirt and runs inside, heading toward the women’s restroom.

“Hey, I’m just
having a little fun, that’s all.”

Joe nods and looks
at me. “What’s the problem, Mr. Jameson?”

“Escort this idiot
to his room so he can get his bags then lead him to the front desk to check
out. I want him removed immediately. Write in the report that he was drunk,
acting in an disorderly manner, touched a woman inappropriately, and is being
obnoxious to guests.”

“Shit, you own this
place? Hey, bro, I didn’t mean any harm. Seriously. I’ll chill.”

I ignore his request
and slip into my robe, watching security escort him inside while the other guys
around the pool scatter.

My nostrils flare.
My walk is quick. My face peeved, knuckles white, blood pumping, breath
rapid... the knife from my pocket in hand, maddened by this little shit. This
isn’t over.

I call security
again. “Joe, tell me when he’s checking out. I want to know as soon as he’s off
my premises.”

“Will do, sir.”

Damn it.

I pound my door on
the way inside my suite. “Piece of shit
asscock
,” I
fume, taking a shot of whiskey before I dress in a pair of jeans and my hoodie.
“Don’t fuck with me... don’t fuck with my woman.”

I call Jules. No
answer. Text her. No answer. I pace.

“Jesus, princess.
What are you doing? Be safe.”

My heart tells me
she’s okay. Maybe she’ll go back to the pool with
Mera
.
Or she’ll take her to the bar and get her drunk. It’s okay. It’s
all good
. I have to keep telling myself that while I deal
with this fucker, I need to believe we’re a hell of a lot more dangerous to
Mera
than she is to us.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I grab my truck keys
and race to my garage, starting the engine and pulling onto my private drive
where I wait. I’m not letting this asshole go just so he can screw with some
other women tomorrow or the next day.

A call comes in from
security. “Mr. Jameson, he’s at the desk now.”

“Is it just
him
?”

“Yeah. He seems to
be here alone, hold on.”

I hear a
conversation in the background, one-sided... sounds like the guy is talking on
his cell. Joe gets back on the line and informs me he’s talking to someone about
driving to Reno for the night then heading to Vegas tomorrow afternoon.

“He’s going off
about having to drive when he’s drunk,” Joe says.

“Well, he’s not
staying here.”

“I don’t blame you.
Is the woman okay?”

“He didn’t hurt her,
but he could’ve.”

“Alright, he’s
headed out your front door now. Good riddance.”

“Thanks, I
appreciate it.”

It’s always better
to handle things on your own so the cops don’t have to be called to chaperon
the unruly guests away.

I drive to the main
road and turn around, parked on the side and at the very end of my long hotel
drive, waiting for his lights to shine in the darkness.

Oh, fuck yes... a
text from Jules. She’s okay.

I love our life together.

“Me too,” I whisper.

Don’t be Super Woman tonight.
I text her back.

Wonder Woman.
She replies.

Wonder Woman, Super
Woman, whatever.

Here he comes. I
toss my phone on the passenger seat, start the truck, and watch him swerve.
He’s driving like a ninety-year-old, blind man with no arms who’s having a
heart attack. He’d probably kill innocent people if I let him out on the road.
Once again, I’m doing society a favor, in more ways than one.

Fifty feet. Inching
along. Fuck, I can’t wait to tear him from limb to limb. He’s much smaller than
me in height and weight. I’ll crush him. Thirty feet. I think he’s in a Suzuki
Jimny
. Made for women... what they would call ‘cute’... a
pussy vehicle.

“That car fits you,
buddy.”

Twenty feet away and
I pull out, blocking the end of my drive. He brakes then flashes his
headlights.

“Hey asshole,” he
rolls down his window and shouts, “move out of the way.”

I step out of the
truck and walk calmly to the driver’s side. He locks his door and rushes to
roll up his window, leaving it open just a crack to talk.

“Hey,” I say,
leaning close to him with my hand on top of his car.

“Look, man. I’m
sorry. I don’t want any trouble. You mind backing up so I can get through? I’ll
leave peacefully. Just don’t call the cops. I can’t get arrested again.” His
voice shakes.

I’m silent.

He’s nervous.

His trembling
fingers rub the steering wheel. That’s right, my friend. Get your blood flowing
one last time.

“What do you want
from me?” he asks.

Staring into his
frightened eyes, my fingertips over the top of the window and inside his car, I
say, “You owe my wife an apology.”

“Oh, shit,” he
laughs. “Your wife? Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I had no fucking idea she was your
wife. Yeah, I can do that. Shit.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Just my
luck.”

Yeah, just his luck.
“Head down that private drive,” I point, “to our garage. I’ll bring her out.”

He nods and turns
his feminine, powder blue vehicle around.

I tail him the
distance to my garage, opening one of the two doors with my remote. It’s like
driving into a cavern - dark and isolated. There’re no rooms or guest windows
overlooking this area, nothing, just him, my blade, and me. I pull behind him
while he parks in front of the opened door and gets out of his car.

“Dude. I’m sorry,
man,” he says, walking up to me as I step out of my truck. “I thought she was
just
gonna
be some easy drunken lay. One, two, fuck
her and toss her.”

My fist strikes his
jaw, taking him down in one swing.

“No,” he groans,
rising slowly, rolling to his knees then swaying to his feet. He holds his jaw
and places his hand in the air for me to stop. “Look, I deserved that, but
shit, it’s just pussy.”

I smirk.
“
I’ll roll you and I’ll fold you in a
big
foldy
roll.”

“What the fuck, man.
Is there something wrong with you?”

“I’m a troll,” I
whisper, taking the blade in my hand.

“A what? A troll? What
the fuck does that mean?”

“
And I’ll eat you up for supper
,” I sing,
rushing the blade into his gut in one swift thrust.

“Uh!”

My hands claw his
face as I push him into my garage with the knife still stuck in his flesh.

He screams, flailing
his arms like a toddler in a tantrum as he calls for help.

“Shut the fuck up!”
I cover his mouth, but he bites my finger, piercing my skin. “Goddammit, you
shit!” I pull out the knife and front kick his knee, taking him down. His body
smacks the concrete and he cries out for help. I straddle his waist, grab his
hair and give him a second powerful blow to his face.

“Shut up!”

Blood runs from his
nose.

“No, stop! Please!”
he shouts. “Please don’t, please don’t,” he panics, starting to hyperventilate.
“Don’t hurt me! Please! I’m sorry.... I’m... I’m...”