Chapter Thirteen
Kris
Where am I now?
This was getting old fast. Kris opened his eyes, blinking blearily. Ishmael’s bedroom came into focus.
Shit. I must’ve been more tired than I thought for him to have to carry me up here.
A movement from the armchair in the corner of the room caught his attention. The large man standing up wasn’t Ishmael.
“Who’re you?” Kris blurted out.
“I’m Bob,” the man replied. “I’m your security detail for today.”
“Damn, how many bruisers does he employ?”
The man’s lip quirked up in one corner. “There’s about thirty of us here on call at any given time,” he replied. “The boss takes security seriously.”
“No shit,” Kris said, sitting up. His head swam. “Whoa. How long was I out?’
“The boss will be joining you for dinner in an hour,” Bob replied.
“Okay, so, what, I slept four hours?”
Bob ignored his question. “He’s requested you shower and change into the suit that’s been provided. It’s hanging up on the back of the bedroom door. Do you need assistance getting out of bed? A drink of water or juice, perhaps?”
“No, I can manage.”
“Good, then I’ll go see how dinner prep is going.” Bob exited the room, leaving Kris to his own devices.
Not that there’s anything I can do in here. Even if by some miracle I managed to knock Bob out, I’d have to get past whoever is in the kitchen right now and there’s probably another guy on the door, plus the whole thing with the security on the elevator controls. Not to mention making it past the elevator getting stopped on his office floor, reaching the lobby, past the desk and any security watching, and out the door. The doormen are no doubt also security and not just nice guys holding the door open.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, realising he should have said yes to some water. His mouth felt cottony. He stood up slowly and made his way to the bathroom, picking up the glass tumbler that sat on the vanity and filling it with water from the sink. He drank it down greedily, following it with another. Then, he became all too aware of the protest his bladder was making.
Right. I drank all that soda.
After peeing, flushing, and washing his hands, he went to look at the suit Bob had mentioned. It was off the rack, but not from any department store. He didn’t recognise the name, deciding it must be an exclusive line.
No doubt it’s for wearing now in a pinch and he’ll have it altered after.
A note was attached to the hangar. Kris read it, turning to the dresser to find the turtleneck, matching pocket square, socks, and shoes mentioned in the note. There was also a square wicker basket with styling products and some kind of fancy brush and comb. A sticky note on the back of the hairbrush informed him that it was his, as were two things he apparently was to use with the Waterpik in the bathroom. He returned to the bathroom and quickly found the two items he’d previously overlooked on the vanity. A water flosser head and a toothbrush head, both with a blue band around their bases, were inside a sealed plastic bag. A look at the similar items already in use showed him that Ishmael’s both had a black band around them. He looked for the toothpaste as the small tube of hotel toothpaste and the hotel toothbrush he’d made use of earlier were both missing. A peek in the medicine cabinet revealed a red container of something called Anjona and a bottle of Listerine Total Care mouth rinse as well as a box of plasters, some antiseptic wound cream, a pair of tweezers, and some acetaminophen. He unscrewed the lid of the Anjona, unable to read the Gerrman on the front.
Okay, found the toothpaste.
He looked at the Waterpik. It appeared to be pretty self-explanatory. A tank that was obviously to be filled with water had a fill line marked on it, so he took it off the device and added water to the line. Then he fit his toothbrush head to the device, added some toothpaste, and turned it on. When water came coursing out immediately, he switched it back off without delay.
Shit! I better make sure to clean this up. He sees this mess, he’ll get mad for sure.
He looked at the brush head. All the toothpaste had washed off. He added more, this time brushing his teeth first without added water, then turning it back on to rinse away debris as he finished. Once the water was done, he removed the brush head, rinsing it under the tap before putting it away in the holder along with Ishmael’s, praying he wasn’t making a mistake. Then he replaced the brushed with the water flosser and filled up the retackle once more, using it on the gentlest setting until the tank once more ran empty. Then he rinsed the tip, put it way, and dried out the inside of the tank. Putting away the toothpaste, he looked at the Listerine. He deiced he best run the risk of his food tasting odd afterwards, in case Ishmael checked to see if he’d used it. If he was supposed to have, he didn’t want to find out what being punished for allegedly bad hygiene would net him.
Now to shower and dress.
He froze.
Well, that wasn’t there this morning.
There was no question in his mind that the new addition was meant for him.Why else would the handheld shower attachment now come fitted with that?He turned to look on the shelf. Waterproof lube taunted him from where it sat proudly next to the body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.
Oh, God.
He turned the shower on, refusing to think any further on the use these were meant to be put to. He washed and conditioned his hair, scrubbed his down, and rinsed. He buffed himself dry with the provided high thread count bath sheet and towered his hair dry before making use of the hair dryer on the dresser. As he finished dressing and began to style his hair, he thought back to what he’d discovered in the shower.
“He’ll just have to make me if I decide we’re going to be doing that,” he said resolutely to his own reflection, pretending he had a choice. “Not like he’ll be sniffing my butt at the table, anyways.”
