City of Angels

VIP

Sophie turns to the receptionist as their voices ring out in the background, echoing against the walls.
"I'll have my father know about this service. You can expect to lose your job very soon."

She whirls around and storms away, golden hair streaming like ribbons.

"Wait! Miss Hunt?"
Sophie halts, a sly smile creeping to her face.

"If you'll take it, the VIP room is prepared.
It isn't dissimilar to the penthouse, and the spa and lounge are still accessible if you have a VIP pass. I can sort that out for you right now if you'd like?"
And there it is.
Sophie pivots and faces the receptionist, narrowing her eyes.
"Alright, but I must get a refund for this mess. The penthouse was already paid for."
"I can do that," The woman promises, nodding her head enthusiastically.
"Then I'll take your offer," Sophie agrees.

***

The VIP suite isn't terrible. Sophie trails her fingers along a pristine lounge. It's no penthouse, but it'll do.
Large windows skirt the entire length of the back wall, showing off the twinkling lights of the city.
Sophie thinks of it as light pollution, but beautiful light pollution at that.

The entire room is dressed in whites and delicate golds. The bedspread has intricate gold patterns on its soft, silken material, with many comforting pillows and cushions.
The scent of vanilla lingers in the air, but Sophie's nose detects a cheap room spray, bought it bulk.
But it wasn't like she expected a hotel to spend millions on elegant perfumes.

Sophie kicks off her heels, delighted to finally be in L.A. after her six hour flight.
She wriggles her toes on the carpet and then fixes the bed with a mischievous smile.
She moves silently, nimbly, and then takes a bounding leap onto its plump covers, landing with a squeal of glee.
She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, hardly able to wipe the smile from her face.
There is just something about travelling that brings her such joy.
The excitement, the adventure, and probably the royal accomodation.
Sophie springs up and explores the rest of the room.
Attached is a large bathroom with a tub equipped with jets and a large mirror with lights that brings on a cheerful expression.
Or perhaps it was the sight of her own face in the mirror.
Sophie is a particularly neat person, so she spends the next fifteen minutes organising her clothes. As she goes, she changes her spoiled dress and replaces it with a short black cocktail dress.
Once finished, she sits on the floor, shoulders slumped. Now the suite has become less fun.
Perhaps a dinner out might ease the boredom.
Sophie's happiness reignites with the thought of styling her outfit. She decides to pair her black dress with sleek round toe lace up stilettos, and sweeps her hair into a messy updo.
Then she tucks her room key into her bra and flicks off the lights as she exits, only to be knocked backward.

"Oh! Funny seeing you here."
It's beginning to grow old, running into Nikki.
"Hilarious. Are we done talking? I don't have time for this."
Nikki, still adorned in his torn and dirty
t-shirt and pants, moves an inch closer.
"Aw c'mon, wait a second."

Sophie slips around him and begins walking again, only for Nikki to take two large strides and catch up easily.
"We're not going to be friends, Nikki Sixx," he huffs. "And if you're trying to find pals, I'd start by wearing some deodorant."