Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 3

"Think I Wanna Twist the Plot This Time"

"I'll spin life to a fantasy like no one's home, so I play God."

—"Maradona" The Chainsmokers

At coat check, Oppenheimer lets go of Barbie's hand so he can tip the clerk when he comes back with their coats, his hat, and her gloves. She's fully prepared to pay herself, but with the way the clerk's face lights up at the sight of multiple bills, maybe she doesn't have to.

"Thank you, sir," says the clerk with a grateful nod. "You're too kind."

"It's not a problem." Oppenheimer is gentlemanly enough to place Barbie's pink coat around her shoulders as she puts her gloves back on and pockets her wallet. Her phone is still settled in the right pocket, thankfully. He dons his hat and carries his own coat over his elbow, then starts to lead Barbie out with an assuring hand on her lower back. "You have a good evening, now."

"Have a good evening!" Barbie repeats cheerfully as they step out the door into the crisp, cool air. She takes a deep breath, both to calm her nerves and to breathe something in that doesn't smell like stale cigarettes. The Palace Hotel literally sits next door to the club, yet the walk feels languid and careless, like time slows as she takes in the dim street lighting, how basically no one occupies the road now at this late hour. She falls in line with Oppenheimer's long strides, again enjoying the familiar click of their heels hitting the pavement.

"That was a really generous tip you left our coat check clerk," she points out, still smiling.

"Did the same with the bartender, too," he replies, using his hand on her back to draw her in closer. "I'm sure you don't find it very fair that they're allowed to work and entertain in this club, but are not allowed to be entertained themselves. And I'm sure their wages don't reflect that work."

"You're right, I don't find it fair." Barbie frowns, remembering the sign at the front of the club. "I think everyone should be compensated well for their work, and that it should be enough to live comfortably. And obviously anyone should be allowed where they please, if they live here. If people like to boast that America is 'the land of the free,' shouldn't the country actually reflect that?"

So, there are at least a few people here who have some common sense. Barbie can't believe how narrow-minded some of the customs are here, and while 82 years seems like lifetimes away, it may as well be yesterday when considering the entire history of humankind. Leave it to luck that she actually found a partner for the night who's sharing some of these beliefs.

The Palace Hotel boasts nothing too special on the outside; it looks like a nice, art deco style, rectangular building at eight stories, and plenty of windows with a great number of rooms. But as Oppenheimer leads Barbie inside, her jaw drops at the lobby, the large chandeliers sparkling above them, surrounded by marble Grecian pillars and archways holding everything up. The lighting gives everything a warm glow as the ceiling bathes them in what looks like false daylight, instantly welcoming Barbie inside. Whoever he was trying to impress with booking this hotel is a lucky gal, indeed. When she visited San Francisco with the family last year, she and Sasha switched off between sleeping on the couch and the other bed in their standard Hilton room. This place looks like it's only inhabited by royals, politicians, and celebrities.

Even the elevator is nice—clean and standard with fancy numbers for each floor. Oppenheimer presses eight, and they stand in anxious silence. His hand drops from Barbie's back as he reaches into his pocket to produce a key, and she's clasping her hands together for dear life, because it's a way to focus on something else other than the loud, quick pounding of her heart in her ears. Seconds pass like hours as they slowly ascend. Is she even going to know what to do once they get to his room? Are they even going to start right then and there? What if he sees right through her and that becomes a turn off? What if he's reading her expression now and realizes something isn't quite right?