La Petite Mort, page 16
A young woman with immaculate makeup and hair pulled and waxed back into a tight bun sat at the reception desk. Gerald continued toward her and she greeted him with a smile.
“Kia ora. How may I help you?”
“My name’s Gerald Pickering. I’m joining the rest of my group that I believe are booked here. It could be under the name of Jan Theodosia. She may have made a group reservation rather than individual ones.”
The woman tapped into her computer without using her long, glittery nails. Then she frowned.
“I can’t find the booking you’re talking about.” The receptionist tapped her screen with the tip of a nail. “We did receive a request for two people, and it took up the last of the availability we had.” She looked up at him. “There is nothing about any others at this hotel.”
“Two,” Gerald repeated, his voice flat as the receptionist nodded. “Where the fuck are the others?”
“Um…there’s a note to say the other members of your group were put up in a sister motel of ours, but there were only twelve in total and they’re all checked in. No one’s outstanding. Let me check if Miss Theodosia is in her room. If she is, I’ll let her know you’re here. But we don’t have another room and neither does our sister accommodation. Neither will have any availability unless someone cancels on short notice.”
“Not your problem.” Gerald shook his head…and it wasn’t. He had a good idea who was responsible. Jan, like the stupid sheep she is, has gone along with Matthew because he knows just how to pull her strings.
Sure enough, five minutes later, Jan appeared with Matthew, his condescending smirk firmly in place.
“I’m so sorry, Gerald, but the hotel was full—” Jan started but Gerald held up his hand.
“Don’t bother. You can’t act for toffee. That’s why you aren’t one of the performers, and the receptionist has already confirmed that you only booked two people for here. Even your math isn’t that bad. So, let’s see. Fourteen, less one for John, is still thirteen—unlucky for some but the two of you are here. The others are housed, according to the receptionist. Just where am I staying?”
The color drained from Jan’s face and Matthew barged past her.
“It was an unfortunate miscalculation. The receptionist got it all wrong. We thought we could get the whole troupe in the other place. But there wasn’t enough space, so we came here. I thought they’d sorted it all out. Both this place and the other motel are full. We didn’t know you didn’t have a room. The choice is yours. Stay somewhere else”—Matthew shrugged—“or not.”
“I’ll be at rehearsals as usual.” Gerald didn’t believe a single word of what he’d been told. You organized this deliberately. He rose to his feet, making sure to use his two inches of extra height against Matthew. “I’ll find a place and charge it direct to the business account. You’re such a tosser, Matthew—and you’re an idiot for trusting him, Jan.”
“You can’t charge directly to the business account.” Matthew glowered at Gerald, taking a step back, then looked at Jan. “Can he?”
“Of course he can,” Jan huffed. “John needed backup for finances and made him a signatory. Like me, he can sign off anything he likes on that account.”
“Well, good fucking luck. Taupo is full. Come on, Jan. We’ll take a dip in the pool.”
Gerald watched them stroll away, concentrating on banking down his anger. This kind of place will be full, but I’m sure there’ll be other, less expensive places. I only want a room, although a hot tub would be nice, especially for after an evening’s performance.
“Excuse me.” A man seemed to detach himself from the shadows beside one of the ornate columns inside the foyer. “I couldn’t help but overhear. If you’re looking for an accommodation, try this one. I know the owner personally. She’s a lovely woman and very hospitable to those in need.”
“Thank you.” Gerald took the card the man offered and studied it for a moment. He looked up to ask how close it was, but the stranger had already gone. Gerald shrugged. It wasn’t important.
The receptionist held up her hand, and Gerald nodded and ambled over to her.
“He’s right, you know. The town is packed. We’ve got a lot of events coming up, so vacancies are going to be at a premium.”
“I just got a place, I think.” Gerald waved the card.
“Great. Where?” the receptionist asked.
“Heart and Home Motel.”
“I know that place.” The woman nodded. “It belongs to a really nice lady, but her grandson’s a bit of a creep.” She shuddered dramatically. “You know…Goth, all-black clothes and heavy makeup. Not my type at all.” She batted her eyes at Gerald, and he smiled.
“Not mine either, but a room is a room.” Gerald hoped that would be tactful enough, but it seemed the receptionist hadn’t noticed.
“I’ve never dated an actor.” The receptionist’s voice dropped to a husky purr, but Gerald was saved by the arrival of a couple who’d marched up to her desk.
“Well, I’ll get going. Thanks for this. See ya.” Gerald backpedaled as he waved, relieved to see the couple had already moved into his place and blocked the receptionist’s view as he made his escape.
Before getting back into his car, Gerald checked the motel’s location on his phone. It was a little farther out than he’d have liked, but since beggars couldn’t be choosers, he shrugged and got into the car. I can always look around once theretod see if I can get something central…but not here.
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About the Author
Living in clean, green New Zealand, Pelaam is a multi-published author of gay romance and erotica.
When not working at writing, Pelaam likes to indulge in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation.
Pelaam loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com
Pelaam Pelaam, La Petite Mort
