William leaned back in his seat with a sigh. He stared at the sparkling crystal chandelier, its tiny lights dancing to the rhythm of the smooth jazz. The music faded into a new song, a beautifully familiar melody. A blanket of nostalgia wrapped around William as a voice he’d heard countless times before began to sing.
He could almost smell the pancakes his mom used to make on Sunday mornings, humming along to her favorite album. Things were so simple back then. Or so he thought.
“Where are you?” Oliver asked softly. “I’m guessing you’re not having this conversation right next to him.”
William blinked himself back to the present. “I’m in the lobby. Adathan dropped a bottle on the floor, and it made a mess. I came down to find someone from the hotel staff to clean it up.”
“How is he?”
“He’s... fine. I should go back. I’m worried he’ll think I abandoned him or something.”
“William.”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to call me if you need anything, okay? No matter what. And no matter the time. I’m serious.”
“All right.”
“I’ll take him in if you don’t think you can. I mean it. Give it some thought.”
William nodded slowly. “Yeah. I will. Goodnight.”
He hung up and dropped his arm, his body feeling like an achy sack of rocks. He gazed at the artificial flames shimmering in the fireplace, allowing himself five seconds to relax before heading to the reception desk.
“Good evening! How may I help you?” the clerk asked, pretending she hadn’t just watched him cry.
“Hey.” William looked at her name tag—Felixia. “I have a room here; 1505. We dropped a beer bottle on the floor, and it made a mess.”
Felixia nodded and checked her computer screen. She clicked her mouse a few times before looking back at him. “Someone will be there shortly, Mr. Mitchell. May I assist you with anything else?”
“N—actually . . .”
“Yes?”
William leaned against the polished hardwood counter. “Could you have one serving of every dessert on your menu delivered to my room? And I’ll take a bottle of champagne, too.”
Fuck FIS Poker.
“Of course, sir,” she said, reaching for a drawer. “Here’s our wine list.”
“No need. Give me your most expensive bottle with—do you have unbreakable glasses?”
“We have stainless-steel champagne flutes.”
“Good. Two of those. I’ll take a bottle of Irish cream, too.”
Felixia nodded as she typed on her keyboard and made a few more clicks. “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. Your order will be delivered to your room shortly. May I help you with anything else?”
“Do you offer overnight laundry services? My, uh, friend cut his fingers while trying to pick up the broken glass, and now there’s a bloodstain on his sweater.”
“We do. You may place the garment in one of the laundry bags you have in your room and hand it to our maintenance staff.”
William smiled. This hotel truly was awesome. “Thanks, Felixia.”
“Have a wonderful evening.”
“You too.”
