Two: The Shell Hotel
A COMMOTION woke Max from his slumber several hours later. He heard the sound of glass breaking in the main suite –
Instantly, he leapt to his feet and tore the door open, ready for anything. Sasha and Casey both already had their guns drawn. The dining table and chairs were overturned, scattered. As a result, a water decanter had fallen and shattered into bits strewn over the shell-design of the tiled floor.
Cowering against the couch with his hands up was a quaking older man. He wore torn jeans and a jean jacket, with an American flag bandana on his head. Beneath this, wispy-thin gray hair poked out.
“Who are you?” Casey shouted at him. “Talk fast.”
“I’m Maurice, man,” he said. “Maurice Candlewick, if you have to know that.”
“Why are you in our room?” Casey demanded.
“Clever girls with clever guns,” Maurice said with a nervous smile. “Heard of you, yes.”
“Don’t play with us,” Casey said dangerously. She and Sasha trained the Red Roses and the White Roses on Maurice. “I promise we know how to use these.”
Maurice nodded slowly. “Oh, I know you do. Those things are real. But everything else around here is fake.”
“Fake?” Max said.
“Yeah. Fake. Imitation. Everything. It’s a replica. A forgery. But not the guns. The guns are the real deal, man, I get that.”
Enki appeared now from his room.
“What is this?” Enki bellowed.
“There’s some guy here,” Casey replied, head nodding towards the outside. “He came in through the patio door. He must have climbed up the outside of the Hotel or something.”
“Yeah. He just started nosing around our stuff,” Sasha continued. “Case and I just happened to be in the kitchen when we heard him pick the door. Can you believe the gall of this guy?”
“That’s not true!” Maurice protested. “I was not ‘nosing around’. I’m not tryin’ to steal nothing. No! Maurice doesn’t do that. I’m here to talk to you cats.”
“Talk to us? About what?” Enki replied.
“About you, man! About what you’re doing! Or, more like, what you’re not doing.” He stood up now, cautiously, watching Sasha and Casey like a hawk.
“Look at all of you,” Maurice sneered with a sweep of his arm. “The Man is looking for you! And you’re like … sitting, in a hotel room, like this is some kind of vacation. Don’t you get it? I’m talking about the Man himself!”
“Pardon me, but what ‘Man’ is that?” Enki asked.
Maurice’s face went dough-white with credulity. “What ‘Man’ is …? You. Have. Got. To. Be. KIDDING ME.” Maurice got up in Enki’s face. Casey hissed a warning. The Red Roses swirled with anticipation. But Enki shot a look that said that Maurice was to be tolerated – at least for the moment.
“The Man, man! I’m talking about the Man of Mans! The Mac Daddy! The golden-faced dude! The helter-skelter! The frown of frowns, man. Mr. Sunshine turned around.”
“Who is ‘the Man’?” Enki asked again, patiently.
“I heard you the first time,” Maurice panted, putting his hands around his head like it might explode. “I just didn’t believe my microphones.” Maurice leaned in closed. “The Bondsman, man! Him! Him!”
