Lean On Me

American Hospitality

“Club level, Ritz-Carlton Suite. 20th floor. Here we are!” a bellhop opened the door to the most luxurious suite in the hotel for Mary and Freddie. They each gasped, 291 square meters of living space and utterly surrounded by glass. Tears began to streak Mary’s face because in looking out one side of the suite, L.A. could be seen in all her glory. The other side? The Pacific Ocean and coastline. Mary was nearly shaking. Elektra records had comp’d Freddie the utmost in American hotel luxury.

 “Oh my god!” Mary squealed, reaching her arms out to Freddie. “I can’t believe this! Look, Fred! Los Angeles on one side and the ocean on the other!” she said, tears still forming at the corners of her eyes. Even Freddie was overwhelmed. This was modern elegance. The creamy, off-white carpet. The dark walnut accents on the furniture, mustard yellow in color, coupled with crystal chandeliers. There was an actual dining room table, an elaborate vase in the middle of it. It looked like one of those luxury flats in England that overlooked the Thames. Freddie’s hands shook as he held on to Mary, terrified to step onto the gorgeous, tightly weaved geometrical rug that covered the marble.

“Your key allows you access to the club level. One of  four of our restaurants and our premiere lounge is located there. In the suite you’ll find the room service menu should you desire anything.  You’ll find chilled champagne and fresh fruit along with your itinerary as sent by Elektra Records in addition to the hotel hospitality package. Shall I put your luggage away for you?” the bellhop asked.

 Mary and Freddie stared at him, having hardly blinked. Freddie had experienced some first class service at resorts and hotels but nothing compared to this. “Uh…yes! Yes, please. And…and thank you!” Mary finally said to the bellhop after finding the words though still overtaken by all this.

 Closer to Earth, on the tenth floor, John and Veronica had just been shown to their executive suite, a step down from what was known as the Ritz-Carlton suite. A similar greeting was bestowed upon them: chilled champagne, fruit and so much like the grand suite on the 20th floor on a smaller scale. “Oh it’s so very clean! John look how clean it is.” She remarked as the late Los Angeles sun peeked in through the sheer pale yellow curtains. John smiled and ran a hand through his post plane-ridden hair. The two of them had been left alone in their suite, their luggage waiting to be unpacked. John put his arms around Veronica.

 “You smell nice.” He said, digging his nose into her neck. She put her hands over his and smiled.

 “Your hands are soft.” She said leaning her head against his. They were quiet for a moment. She could feel John cover her neck in his kisses. Veronica finally cleared her throat and patted her hand on John’s. “Should you shower first? You’re going out with Freddie and Mary, yes?” She said rather abruptly pulling herself out his tender embrace. “I’m going to call home, check on the boys. The bellhop said to dial 7 and then the number with country code, right?” she asked.

 “Yes, but you’re not gonna’ call now. Sweetheart, it’s…it’s nearly 4AM in London.” John told her gently. Veronica didn’t say anything; she just stood in the middle of off-white carpet looking around.

 “I’m very tired, I’m going to go to bed.” She said softly, wiping her eye and making her way through the sitting area to the bedroom. John took a deep breath and glanced over at their baggage in the middle of the floor. His mind raced, he too was tired but the adrenaline rush of being in Los Angeles couldn’t stop him from picking up the phone in the sitting area and immediately dialing Freddie’s room.

 “There’s a turntable! There is a turntable in the room! Look at this Brian!” Chrissie pointed out.

 “I can’t believe it!” Brian said, as he popped the bottle of champagne. Granted, all the executive suites looked identical with their earthy colors and amenities but they had never seen a turntable in a hotel before.