City of Angels

the elevator of many a romance

"I know, I wish I could reverse it," She sighs, chipping the paint off her nails.
"I wish you could too. You know, you could come and stay with me, Soph. Escape those madmen."
"Thanks, Claire, but you already have too much to think about. Three more nights and then I'll be there. I might as well make the most of the money I spent here."
Claire murmurs her agreement.
"Alright, but if he gets bothersome, ring me."

Claire senses something different about Sophie. Perhaps the way she spoke, or even the grievous mistake she made. She isn't proud of her for making out with men like that guy from the restaurant. Lightly concerned, she hangs up the phone, hoping that the same Sophie she knows will turn up to her wedding and not the one that kisses rockstars like some premium groupie.

Sophie sighs, slipping into her heels. She hadn't eaten breakfast. Her stomach grumbles in protest and she rolls her eyes.
"I heard you the first time."

She pulls a long jacket over her short skirt and tight singlet and makes sure she locks the door to keep any rockstar pests firmly out.

On the way down in the elevator, she hopes desperately that she won't chance another run in with Nikki. She makes it to the the lobby safely and finally breathes a sigh of relief.
With a curt nod to the receptionist, she exits the hotel and steps onto the street.
It is the usual busy day, the usual crowds buzzing around like bees to the usual spots.
How boring.

Sophie pops into a spacious coffee shop that Naya had mentioned and takes her place in line. It had better be worth the wait, she thinks. But of course the wait isn't very long because the people in front of her always offer their spot.

"No, please," They say. "I have a big order."
"You go first, you seem like you have places to be."
"Ladies first."

So, in a matter of minutes Sophie is sitting at a table, studying the people in line as it snakes around the shop.

"Latte, extra- Sophie?"
She lifts her gaze to the man standing with a apron tied around his hips.
"Um, that's me."

He slides into the seat opposite, much to her surprise.
"You don't recognise me, wow. We spent the night together?"
When she doesn't reply, because the names and faces of her past hookups ultimately become irrelevant, so she just forgets them.
"Mateo. I'm Mateo."

Oh, he meant we spent the night recently.

She thought it was funny that a New Yorker would move to L.A. only to become a barista.

"Oh!" She realizes. "Right. At the hotel."
"Yeah, I was hoping I'd see you again. Listen, I know that guy was lying about the diseases and infections and stuff. I just thought he might be your boyfriend or something."

He sweeps the curls from his forehead and smiles tentatively. This wasn't the girl he remembered. This one seems colder, meaner.

"Okay, glad that cleared up then. Can I have my coffee, please?"
"Sure," he slides it across the table. "Sorry."
He senses that she isn't interested in conversation and that she'd rather he leave. But she stuck out to him more than any girl he'd ever hooked up with.

"Listen, if you and your boyfriend ever... Split, I'm around. This is my number."
He pulls a pen from the pocket in his apron and scribbles on a serviette.

"He isn't my boyfriend," She says sourly.
Mateo looks pleased.
Sophie has decided to hate Nikki's guts, to keep herself away from him. To think of other things. To shut him out. It was a familiar tactic.

"Actually," she says slowly, "when does your shift end?"
Mateo smiles.
"Whenever you want."

Sophie takes Mateo back to Ville d' Ange and ignores Nikki as they pass him in the lobby.
He is heading out, leather jacket shrugged over his shoulders. He notices the two sweep by and is surprised by the knot tugging tighter in his stomach as the guy touches her back.

Mateo ushers Sophie into the lift, excited like a little boy in the best toy shop imaginable.
Sophie is rather indifferent, but Mateo is a good distraction. She is beginning to remember the night he stayed and doesn't hate the idea of another.

Before the elevator even open, Mateo and Sophie are already tangled up together.
They stumble out on the VIP floor, bumping into the wall as they kiss blindly.

"It's like, fucking 9am," Mateo laughs, out of breath. "And we've got all day. I must be the luckiest guy in the world."
Sophie unlocks the door with her card and lets it drop onto the ground outside, using her hands instead to drag Mateo into her room.

"How the fuck do I get this skirt off you?"
"Rip it" Sophie shrugs.
"What?"
"Rip it."

Chest pumping, Mateo tears it off and laughs. He'd always wanted to do that.

The pair divide the day with sex, alcohol breaks and more intercourse.
At what Sophie assumes to be 6pm, she finds herself overwhelmingly drunk.
"I'll go get us some water," she laughs, stumbling up from the bed.
"Aw no, don't leave." Mateo grabs at her but underestimates the distance and falls short.

"I'll be back," Sophie giggles, red faced.
She tosses on some clothes, not bothering to check if she put them on correctly or not.
She didn't, in fact, put them on correctly.
Nonetheless, she exits looking disheveled and drunk as ever.

She somehow, some way, makes it to the lobby.
"Where can I find water?" She asks the receptionist, who looks startled.
"Oh! Um, I can send some up with room service if you tell me which suite you're in."

"Not sure actually. That's a cute top, by the way," Sophie slurs.
"VIP," somebody else says.
Sophie twirls around and staggers. She is caught and stabled again.
"Oh! Nikki. I hate you."

Nikki sighs. "Yeah, I know."
He hadn't had such a great night. Gonzo had skipped town so he had to settle for a street dealers eighth of weed and cheap coke, neither of which he'd gotten around to yet.

"Is she alright?" The receptionist asks, casting a worried look toward Sophie as she leans against Nikki, supported by his arms.
"She'll be fine. Send that water up."

Nikki hauls Sophie all the way back to her room and picks up the card on the ground, using it to let them both in.
He marvels at Sophie's appearance.
Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are flushed, clothes put on back to front. And barely even on.
He didn't think she would dare let herself be seen this way, but he has experience dealing with drunks.

Inside, he sees Mateo reclined on the bed and rolls his eyes.
"Out."

Mateo looks up, surprised.
"What?"
"You heard me, out."

Mateo skulks out, half dressed and severely drunk.
Nikki deposits Sophie onto the couch and shakes his head.
"What are you doing?"
"Drinking?"
"I was talking to myself. You'll probably sue me for being in here, right?"
"Probably," Sophie agrees.

"I'm gonna leave. Someone's coming up with water, drink it. And don't choke on your own vomit."
With those tender words, he leaves. He'd rather leave before his morals tell him to stay.

But he can't help thinking that he should have. Yet he stays in the penthouse, because she would want that.
Nikki has never been toyed with by a girl, and he isn't sure what to think of it. He has never been denied his immediate satisfaction. That, Sophie and he have in common. He groans to himself, pushing his forehead into his palms. He wishes he knew why he cared.