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 andspeak 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 headNo, 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.
