Read Online Weekend by Andrew Neiderman, Tania Grossinger - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Neiderman, Tania Grossinger
Ads: Link
there’s always a first time and I’m just trying to give you some motherly advice.”
“Did you ever make a sexual mistake?” he asked, suddenly very curious.
“Grant, for God’s sake. That’s something I don’t plan to discuss with my fifteen-year-old son. Now, are you going downstairs and make some friends or not?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll wait and go down with you.”
That was obviously the last thing she wanted. “For God’s sake, you’re not a baby. Can’t you do anything on your own?” She gave up in frustration and slammed the bedroom door in his face.
four
“I’ll shoot over to the hospital now,” Sid said after they had left Jonathan’s office. The bellhop had taken Bruce’s bags and was waiting to show him to his room. “I’ve got to make rounds and then get back to my office. Why don’t you get started with what you have to do and I’ll check with you later in the afternoon.”
“Sounds good.” They started down the corridor as the bellhop led the way. “I’ve got to tell you I have the distinct impression the general manager is not exactly thrilled to have me around.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. The toughness is just Jonathan’s manner. He doesn’t like having people he can’t control hanging around his turf. But he keeps his promises. If he says he’ll cooperate, he will.”
They stopped by the side door that led to the parking lot. “Good luck.” His cousin waved.
Bruce followed the bellhop to his room. When the door was opened, he hesitated. What a disappointment! Some free ride—it never occurred to him that a hotel of this size could have such tiny rooms. The bellhop seemed to sense his letdown because he dropped the suitcase as quickly as he could and turned to leave. Bruce put a dollar in his palm and contemplated the scene—an ordinary single bed with a thick plywood headboard, two rather worn dressers, one with deep scratches on the drawers, and a small closet to his right with only a few hangers in it. The rug was worn through to the seams and what once had probably been a bright yellow color had now faded into a piss lemon hue. The pale white cotton curtain on the small window on the fire escape looked so thin it was practically transparent.
He shook his head and walked into the bathroom, half expecting to find the trappings of a cheap motel—drinking glasses in cellophane paper and a ribbon of crepe with the hotel’s name draped tightly across the toilet seat.
There was no pretense … this was the cheapest room in the hotel, probably used for latecomers desperate to get anything they could, or guests the management wanted to make sure never came back. Thanks, Jonathan, he thought. I know you went out of your way to make me feel at home.
Without bothering to unpack, he quickly changed his shirt and got down to the business of tracking Tony Wong’s activities over the last few days.
Jonathan had given him a diagram of the hotel so he could get around without difficulty. The first man to see was that personnel director, Bob Halloran. He checked the map, noting where the man’s office was located in the basement, and took the elevator down. When the door opened, he stepped out into a relatively dark corridor. Dim bulbs spaced out along the way threw heavy shadows over the concrete floor and walls. Sounds from above traveled down through the pipes in a symphony of vibrations and knocks. A nasal hum emanated from the electric generators halfway down the corridor. At its end was the hotel laundry, where Bruce could hear the subdued voices of custodial personnel sorting linens and putting them in the huge washing and drying machines. The dampness made him shiver and reminded him of the pathology lab where he trained.
Halloran’s office was just to the right. When he got there, he found it empty but the door was open so he walked in.
It was a small windowless office, overcrowded with one desk and chair, certainly not a pleasant place to
“Did you ever make a sexual mistake?” he asked, suddenly very curious.
“Grant, for God’s sake. That’s something I don’t plan to discuss with my fifteen-year-old son. Now, are you going downstairs and make some friends or not?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll wait and go down with you.”
That was obviously the last thing she wanted. “For God’s sake, you’re not a baby. Can’t you do anything on your own?” She gave up in frustration and slammed the bedroom door in his face.
four
“I’ll shoot over to the hospital now,” Sid said after they had left Jonathan’s office. The bellhop had taken Bruce’s bags and was waiting to show him to his room. “I’ve got to make rounds and then get back to my office. Why don’t you get started with what you have to do and I’ll check with you later in the afternoon.”
“Sounds good.” They started down the corridor as the bellhop led the way. “I’ve got to tell you I have the distinct impression the general manager is not exactly thrilled to have me around.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. The toughness is just Jonathan’s manner. He doesn’t like having people he can’t control hanging around his turf. But he keeps his promises. If he says he’ll cooperate, he will.”
They stopped by the side door that led to the parking lot. “Good luck.” His cousin waved.
Bruce followed the bellhop to his room. When the door was opened, he hesitated. What a disappointment! Some free ride—it never occurred to him that a hotel of this size could have such tiny rooms. The bellhop seemed to sense his letdown because he dropped the suitcase as quickly as he could and turned to leave. Bruce put a dollar in his palm and contemplated the scene—an ordinary single bed with a thick plywood headboard, two rather worn dressers, one with deep scratches on the drawers, and a small closet to his right with only a few hangers in it. The rug was worn through to the seams and what once had probably been a bright yellow color had now faded into a piss lemon hue. The pale white cotton curtain on the small window on the fire escape looked so thin it was practically transparent.
He shook his head and walked into the bathroom, half expecting to find the trappings of a cheap motel—drinking glasses in cellophane paper and a ribbon of crepe with the hotel’s name draped tightly across the toilet seat.
There was no pretense … this was the cheapest room in the hotel, probably used for latecomers desperate to get anything they could, or guests the management wanted to make sure never came back. Thanks, Jonathan, he thought. I know you went out of your way to make me feel at home.
Without bothering to unpack, he quickly changed his shirt and got down to the business of tracking Tony Wong’s activities over the last few days.
Jonathan had given him a diagram of the hotel so he could get around without difficulty. The first man to see was that personnel director, Bob Halloran. He checked the map, noting where the man’s office was located in the basement, and took the elevator down. When the door opened, he stepped out into a relatively dark corridor. Dim bulbs spaced out along the way threw heavy shadows over the concrete floor and walls. Sounds from above traveled down through the pipes in a symphony of vibrations and knocks. A nasal hum emanated from the electric generators halfway down the corridor. At its end was the hotel laundry, where Bruce could hear the subdued voices of custodial personnel sorting linens and putting them in the huge washing and drying machines. The dampness made him shiver and reminded him of the pathology lab where he trained.
Halloran’s office was just to the right. When he got there, he found it empty but the door was open so he walked in.
It was a small windowless office, overcrowded with one desk and chair, certainly not a pleasant place to
Similar Books
