Beyond the end

Pol Roger

Steve woke up completely regenerated. For too long he slept on a sofa bed, with an uncomfortable mattress. And sleeping in the king size of the Hilton had brought him back to life. He also seemed to have overcome the trauma of Janet's confession. He had to thank Brandon, who the night before, instead of accompanying him to the house-editor, had offered him not to stay alone and to spend the night in his room, while he would adapt to the kind of annex that the suite paid for by the newspaper made available to him. And now that Mr. W had come out, he could enjoy all the comforts that luxury put at his service in solitude and with which he had definitely not lost his familiarity. He took a long hot shower, settled inside a soft white bathrobe with red H embroidered on his chest, sat on the three-sinner sofa and ordered breakfast in his room. Abundant.
"Yes, bring me a bottle of Pol Roger too, do you have the Winston Churchill edition? Well...no, I don't care about the thousandth, bring me a bottle, on the room bill please."
He rehooked "Crow the avarice" said to himself and burst into a thunderous laugh. He heard knocking shortly after.
"The service is almost better than the room," he said out loud as he went to the door. He opened and found Valerie in suits and stiletto heels.
"Oops, I was looking for Brandon," the girl said.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Steve replied, dazzled by so much beauty at 9am.
"Figure yourself – Val smiled – what are you doing here?"
"The good Samaritan saw me too down and last night invited me to share this wonderful room; and here I am."
"Interesting" Valerie kept smiling "I'm going to work and I'm late too, shall we have dinner together?"
"Why not?" Steve smiled in return.
A wink game interrupted by the breakfast cart
"New good morning Miss Malone."
"Hi Leonard, Steve, call me later, I have to go."
"I will definitely do it."
Steve untied the bottle of Champagne and drank a first glass thinking it was auspicious, while several floors below, Valerie got on the Porsche thinking there was nothing she couldn't get; and smiling, she dug out of the hotel garage.
Donna went to the kitchen with Ethan in her arms, satisfied with an abundant newly finished feeding, with his eyes closed and smiling. Everything was tidy, on the island were arranged several slices of toast, butter, jam, hazelnut cream, the steaming coffee jug, pineapple, orange, strawberry juice, a milk jug, a bowl with plumcakes, one with triple chocolate muffins, donuts; David turned his back to the door, busy frying the eggs and decorating them with the freshly toasted and crispy A scent intoxicated all the flat ground; although the temperatures were not the summer ones, Silver only wore the pants of an Adidas suit, white, with the three stripes running along his legs exalting their length; the bare torso highlighted their back muscles which, despite not being stressed by the gym for months, continued to have attractive shapes. And the commitment to the fires gave him a charm that Donna had forgotten, taken from feedings, tears and diapers. "David, do we have guests?" SHe said looking around. "Of course, the most important guests I can have – he said smiling, turning to her – my wife and son, even though he can't enjoy these treats; not yet."
Donna smiled; David had removed that smile, facing him. He came up and gave her a soft kiss on the lips; he also kissed her son's head. "Good morning honey, breakfast is served."
Donna placed the baby, who was now sleeping placidly, on the cradle and settled on the stool.
"How much grace, what do I owe this treatment to?", "Do I need an excuse to say good morning with all the chrisms to my wife?"
"Of course not – Donna smiled again – I love you David."
It hadn't been heard for weeks; a worm felt, it came to him to cry, but he barely held back his tears and continued to move casually to the stove.
"Et voilà, bacon eggs are ready, as you like; crispy bacon, well cooked eggs." Donna gave a little applause, happy with this newfound intimacy with her husband. David was glad he lit up that morning; -bip beep- squeaked his cell phone, a text message. He looked with the tail of his eye at the display, he could only read the sender's name: VALERIE.
Damn it.