Zeke is a sitting duck when the ladies from suite 117 enter the lobby that evening in a flurry of high-pitched cackling and waves of perfume. The three of them are dressed in sequins and feathers and high heels with red soles. Daniella is wearing a tiara.
Zeke takes a visible breath. He’s such a good sport, Grace thinks. “Here’s my birthday queen!” Zeke says, taking Daniella’s hand and allowing her to twirl. “Love the Louboutins.”
The ladies scream. “He knows about Louboutins!”
Alison says, “Let’s get a selfie. Daniella, you stand next to Zeke.”
Daniella crushes herself against one side of Zeke, and Claire does the same on the other side while Alison, on the far side of Claire, holds her phone out in front of them. “Everyone say, ‘Duck…duck…goose!’” She presses the button at the same time that both Daniella and Claire squeeze Zeke’s butt cheeks.
“Whoa!” Zeke says, raising his arms and stepping back.
What? Grace thinks. It might be time for her to show her resting-bitch face on Claire’s phone screen. These ladies are Out. Of. Line!
At that moment, Roger’s Taxi pulls up and the ladies pile in; as the car pulls away, they wave at Zeke out the open window.
Grace dearly hopes that by the time Daniella, Alison, and Claire return, Zeke will be off work and safely home in bed. But at just a couple of minutes to midnight, Daniella stumbles up the stairs in her heels. Claire, behind her, is holding her shoes in her hand, and Alison is still down on the sidewalk doing some kind of psychedelic dance to music apparently only she can hear.
They’re drunk, Grace thinks. As blotto as Dahlia Benedict used to get, back in the good old days.
“Hey, ladies,” Zeke says. His voice is weary. “How was the birthday?”
Daniella snakes an arm around Zeke’s waist and snuggles against him. “We have a proposition for you.”
The church bells in town toll midnight. “All propositions will have to wait until tomorrow, ladies. I’m getting off my shift and I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Daniella says, her tone of voice serrated now. “We’re calling in that rain check. Come upstairs and have champagne with us,” she says, pulling him out of the lobby.
“Don’t be afraid,” Alison says. “We don’t bite.”
“Speak for yourself,” Claire says.
Daniella pulls five hundred-dollar bills out of her purse. “We’ll tip you for your excellent service.”
Zeke holds up his palms. “I’m sorry, ladies.” He takes careful steps backward into the lobby, which is deserted. I’m here, Zeke, Grace thinks. I’m here. “I have to get home now. You all have a good night, and happy birthday, Daniella.”
“It’s my fiftieth birthday,” Daniella says. “Just come up for ten minutes.”
Absolutely not, Grace thinks. She needs to get help. She widens her scope and sees the answer just on the other side of the door that leads to the Blue Bar. Grace ever so gently puts a hand on Yolanda’s back.
“Hey, Zeke!” Yolanda steps into the lobby, holding a takeout box. She’s wearing a stretchy black catsuit, a porkpie hat, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. She waves at the ladies and slips her arm through Zeke’s. “Would you mind walking me out to my car?”
Zeke exhales. “Of course. I was just leaving myself. Good night, ladies.”
“But…” Daniella says.
Zeke and Yolanda step out onto the front porch. Daniella, Alison, and Claire stare after him.
“Thank you,” Zeke whispers to Yolanda.
“You don’t have to walk me anywhere,” Yolanda says, pointing across the street to a vintage metallic-green Bronco with a white top. She smiles up at him, revealing the cute dimple. “I had the most incredible meal at the Blue Bar tonight. Have you eaten there yet?”
“Uh…”
Yolanda sighs. “I’m madly in love with the chef.”
“You are?” Zeke says.
She’s in love with Mario Subiaco? Grace thinks. Well, that explains why she spends so much time in the kitchen.
Yolanda skips down the stairs with a wave. “Have a good night, Zeke.” She drives off, and Zeke stares after her. He turns around to see the backlit figure of Daniella standing in the lobby. She crooks a finger at him, but Zeke runs for home. Good night, sweet prince! Grace thinks.
Then she follows the ladies to suite 117.
Claire passes out facedown on the bed in the second bedroom. She’s going to miss all the fun, Grace thinks. Alison declares she’s drawing herself a bath, and in a few moments the tub is filled with steaming water. She takes the box of matches from the little table next to the tub and tries to light the lemon-and-mint candle, but the match sputters and goes out. She tries a second match but it happens again. And again. She can’t get a match to stay lit. She turns on the pearly light around the mirror, and this sets a similar mood, so she steps one foot into the tub.