Page 60 of 7 Miles High
Thoughts of her make me want to stay twisted up in the sheets. These past few weeks without her have been hard. The time seemed like an eternity. Bottom line…I can’t get enough.
Elevator doors slowly open and I make my way to the room. For once the key works on the first pass. I drop my luggage and scan the layout. Just like last time. Small living room, connected to a tinier kitchen. Bedroom adjacent. Bathroom acceptable. We might be able to both fit in the spa bath. There’s jets. I can see the scene.
I go to the phone and call housekeeping. I’ve never asked for anything like this, but it won’t hurt to try. They answer on the fifth ring.
“Housekeeping.”
“This is room twelve thirty-two. I have an unusual request. Is there some way I can get a little vase of flowers sent up here? Anything you can do would be appreciated. My girlfriend is coming in this afternoon and I want to impress her.” I chuckle when I say it, hoping for sympathy from the staff.
“Umm, I don’t know if we have anything around here…”
I interrupt with the Ace in my pocket. “There’s a twenty in it if you can find something for me.”
There’s only a few beat pause before she responds. “I’ll see what I can find, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Marianne.”
“Well thank you, Marianne. It’s very appreciated. The twenty will be on the dining table.”
That should do it. My father taught me everything I know about tipping and treating the people providing you a service. It’s been something I’ve used consistently over the years.
I leave the bill where I said, tucking the edge under the room service menu. Then I head for the elevators.
* * *
It always looks like a frat party. That’s the image I have whenever I’m in any Production office on location. There’s an air of expectation. That’s just what it is. The cast and crew are still in the honeymoon stage of the trip. Who’s going to flirt with who. Who’s going to be the pain in the ass. Which payroll person or associate director will be the best to deal with.
We all know the game. Fortunately for me, the stunt people have a good place in the story. It’s because the other men like to hang with us, and the women like to bang us. That last thing doesn’t interest me in the least, but the first makes for a fun set. We always get invited to whatever party is happening that night. Or morning as the case may be.
Sometimes after a long night shoot we gather in someone’s room, or out by the hotel pool, and unwind. Booze, weed, stories of the set and whoever’s being an asshole pass between us. It’s a hell of a good time usually, and it lasts the entire length of the shoot.
I think Natalie will join in and feel the fun. Hell, she’ll be a part of it.
“Here’s your per-diem,” the redhead says. “I’m Sandy.”
“Hi, Sandy. Nice to meet you.”
I leave it there, despite the clear signals she sends. I’m off the market. Gladly. But she persists.
“You’re a stuntman, huh?”
“Yeah. One of the eighteen here. We’re everywhere.”
She leans back in her chair and twirls a strand of hair. Uh oh.
“I’d love to hear some of your stories.”
Shit. “Well thank you. Aaron has much better ones. Have you met him yet?”
Her face falls and her eyes narrow.
“I met him. Not my type. You are.”
I’m going to have to spell it out. “My girlfriend arrives in a few hours.”
Now her crooked smile changes into a defeated smirk.
