CHAPTER TEN

The room in the Cosmopolitan Suites hotel was huge. I could have thrown a party in that suite. It was two bedrooms and two living rooms separated by huge sliding pocket doors made of thick, solid walnut. The beds were both king sized, and the living rooms had modern, L-shaped leather sofas with power recliners built into them. Top it off with a giant-screen entertainment center and a fifth-floor view of hills full of trees, and you have a great party animal’s paradise.

It was four-thirty when I was checked in by a very courteous hotel staff person, and an equally courteous bellman brought my luggage to the suite.

As soon as I had settled in the room, I took a nice long walk on the grounds of the hotel around the pool area, the gym, the restaurant, and the lawns. I made a couple of phone calls while sitting by the pool and taking in some of the day’s best rays of sunshine. I had to return two calls to people who had left me voicemail messages. There was Graham, my buddy from work who reminded me of a very young Eddie Murphy when he was on Saturday Night Live. He had left two messages. No doubt, Graham was concerned about me. He knew that for several months I had been on a slow course toward crashing and burning, and he wanted to make sure that I was all right, and that I was taking hold of the reins of this opportunity to keep my reporter’s job with the prestigious newspaper.

I kept the call to just under five minutes, convincing Graham that everything was going real well. I only touched on the fact that there had been gunfire at the gas station and the precinct headquarters. I told him that I had almost gotten run down in the street, but that everything had calmed down now.

“You know, bro, you were safer when you were drinking heavily. The worst back then was falling off the bar stool!” He laughed then told me to stay in touch and watch my ass.

Then I returned Gloria Finn’s call. Speaking with her was like walking on red-hot burning coals.

“Harold wants a full accounting of your day, young man,” she snapped.

“Tell him I went for an Asian massage where they walk on your back. It went well except for the fat one . . . .”

“Listen, you! You are on thin ice already; don’t push the envelope. I’ll tell Mr. Glavin.”

“Gloria, everything went well with Lolita and Mr. Roberts. Everyone there was super nice. Roberts showed me all around.”

“Yes, he told me.”

Holy crap! Then don’t ask me, I thought. She always pissed me off with her holier-than-thou attitude, like she worked for the Queen of England instead of some cone-headed drill sergeant. Harold had to be banging her. No secretary was that intense for the boss unless there was something else going on. I was sure of this.

Ever since old Harold got thrown out of the house and divorced by his third wife for sleeping with some forty-something fat bimbo, Gloria’d been up his rear end, hoping old Harold would ask her to be wife number four. Together they would make a vicious pit bull tag team.

“I’ll be returning again tomorrow to continue Lolita’s interview.”

“I know that already, young man. You didn’t return my call fast enough.”

“Well, then, Gloria, maybe you can tell me how my day went,” I said sarcastically.

“Mr. Glavin wants a full—”

“Massage? I recommend the fat Asian woman who walks on your back. Just make sure he doesn’t have that Wendy’s chili beforehand, or there could be a real explosion!” I laughed.

“That’s it! I’m telling Mr. Glavin that you are not—”

I missed her next words because I turned off the cell phone and kept it off. After all, she knew everything she needed to know, and I hadn’t even had a drink in days now. Sober is good, but I wasn’t staying that way by choice. I was just too busy to take a drink. Although Harold Glavin and Gloria Finn were enough to drive the pope to drink until he fell over.

It was six o’clock when I made it back to my room. I was tired and needed to take a break. I still ached all over, though I had ignored the body pain and headaches all day long. It is amazing how the aches and pains seem to multiply when the day calms down. Maybe the mind can cut out pain when it needs to concentrate on tasks.

As soon as I opened the door to the suite, I was surprised to hear the surround sound entertainment center playing soft rock music. On the dresser top was a fresh bucket of ice along with three bottles of cold water. It was great to have complimentary water—a nice touch by the hotel. Most places make you purchase a bottle of water for two or three bucks. The water was ice-cold, like it had just come out of one of the vending machines the hotel featured on each floor. I quickly poured a glass and drank it down. It was a warm day, and I hadn’t had any water all afternoon. My dinner engagement was for eight, and I wanted to look my best, so I took a quick shower and had a fresh shave.

As I stepped out of the shower, my legs suddenly buckled, and I had to grab hold of the countertop to steady myself. My head was spinning and I was nauseous, as if I were really drunk. I held on to the counter until I felt strong enough to sit on the toilet. I thought maybe I needed to go to the bathroom. I sat still with my eyes closed for a full five minutes.

With my eyes closed, the room’s spinning decreased to the speed of a slow carousel. I waited, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, but it wouldn’t settle down. So I tried to get to the bedroom and lie down, but that didn’t work. As soon as I stood and walked five steps, I passed out and fell to the floor.

I must have been out cold for half an hour, but it could have been a minute or two. I had no idea. I was able to crawl slowly, and then stagger, and then crawl again to the bed and slowly lift myself enough to lie down sideways on the mattress. The room was spinning out of control as I closed my eyes again and tried to calm myself. Instead, I threw up in the bed and passed out once more.

The ringing of the phone scared me as if someone had stabbed me awake. I looked around the revolving room and saw that my cell phone was on the nightstand. I hit the button and tried to speak, but only gibberish came forth, and I blacked out again.