A satisfied smile on his oriental face, Tankinato walked toward the northern two story wing, dreaming of the simple life he had as a boy. The pressures of business and the ruthless way he had to deal with his competitors took a lot out of a person, but on the plus side, he was filthy rich. Oh well, we all have to sacrifice something, he thought. He walked to the end of the building and heard a slight flutter above his head. Hiruto Tankinato looked up and saw the resort flag waving in the breeze, a proud heaviness filled his heart.
The silver serving tray, highly polished for the lavish event, sat on the white Formica counter immediately bordering the double doors leading to the formal dining room. Chef Pierre Antone imported from New York for the grand opening stood five feet back from his latest creation and softly whispered in his heavy French accent.
“Thees are especially manifico. I am indeed a geenius. I will be more famous then I already am. I am zee greatest.”
The hourderves were a pleasure to the even untrained eye and the chef was really competent at his job. He created a showpiece whenever the mood struck him and with the important people attending this event the mood really had struck him.
Staring at his creation his eyes caught a little piece of pastry one quarter inch off from its appointed position. He walked the several paces toward the counter and reached out gently to
rearrange his work of art. The tray moved about six inches toward the end of the counter and Chef Antone jumped as if bit by a poisonous snake.
“Theese is impossible. Do we have what the Americans call a poltergeist? Why is my tray moving?”
The look of utter astonishment on his face immediately turned to horror as the entire counter disappeared. He didn’t have time to even scream when the floor beneath him suddenly collapsed and Chef Pierre Antone suddenly exited the cooking field forever.
The Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle roared up to the double doors of the lobby and the rider and passenger quickly climbed off and the rider set the kickstand. The rider, totally obscured behind the heavily tinted face shield motioned to the passenger to reach in the sidesaddle of the bike and get his brush out. After the passenger unbuckled the leather strap, he reached in, pulled out a rosewood brush, and handed it to the rider. The rider then pulled off his helmet and the girls that were gathered outside the doors gave a loud yelp.
“It’s Brandon Miles!” They said in unison and started to form a small circle around the movie star.
Brandon started brushing his long brown hair and smiled at his fans with a face sans the beard he had sported until 9:00 a.m. this morning.
“How are you girls doing?” He questioned in his deep baritone which every girl in America would recognize. “I hope you’re doing just great. I know I am. Let’s go inside and get some refreshments. I’m really dry from the long ride over here.”
When Brandon headed for the doors, the girls parted like the Red Sea and followed in his wake like the pied piper. His best friend and bodyguard took up the rear and smiled at the girls that were already inside the lobby goggling at Brandon Miles.
After Brandon finished his third cup of punch, he looked around the lobby and spotted, his so called publicity stunt date, Tiffany Royal, approaching from the far side of the room.
“Brandon dear. How are you? Did you miss ol Tiffany since we finished filming? I certainly hope so.”
She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek and put her right arm through the crook of his left.
“Tell me what you have been doing since we stopped filming. I know you have been keeping extremely busy like me. So what’s new with you?”
“Cut the bullshit Tiffany,” Brandon whispered in her ear. “You know as well as I do, our agents just wanted for us to be seen together to promote the movie, but I don’t have to like it.”
“You mean you don’t love little old me, Brandon. All the healthy young men in America do. Why should you be an exception? But to tell you the truth, you’re one hundred percent right. I’m tired of all this Hollywood crap. Why don’t we go somewhere where we can talk?”
“You mean there is a human being beneath that glittery persona. I thought you were all big time show off.”
They wandered away from the admiring fans and were in a little alcove a few feet from the main lobby doors. They looked up occasionally and smiled at the fans that would look over at them but mainly concentrated on each other.
“Listen Brandon. I’m serious about this. My real name is Alice McDermitt and I am really tired of all this crap. I want to settle down and get married and have two point seven kids and have a house in suburbia with a station wagon and barbeques on the weekends. I didn’t think that this life could be so much of a strain on anybody. When I met you on the set, I started seeing the real you. Not the part you play. You were so sincere away from the camera that I thought if I could get a chance to talk to you, I could tell you how I really felt and maybe you wouldn’t throw rocks at me.”
“You really surprise me Tiffany. I mean Alice. I didn’t think there was a human behind all that makeup. You really…” His words were stopped in midsentence as the whole lobby suddenly fell like a runaway elevator. Brandon was knocked unconscious and Tiffany was hurled over backwards by the terrific force of the building falling. When she regained her feet, she knelt beside Brandon and tears came to her eyes. She thought maybe God is punishing me for being such a bitch.
The ornate dark oak doors to the main entrance of the lodge were propped open on their little chrome stops allowing the influx of guests not to have to crowd to enter the elaborately decorated lobby. The hotel manager, Dilford Bailey, stood at attention in his well-tailored tux, eyeing each person that entered the spacious room. Bailey, being solely responsible for the entire grand opening ceremonies, did not want anyone of suspicious character to cause even a slight blemish in his painstaking preparations for what had been billed, “The Event of the Decade.”
Evening gowns and tuxedos were the outfits of choice even though it was the middle of a hot summer afternoon. Many of the guests were quite comfortable in this type of fashion because of their lifestyles. There were many representatives of the state, excluding the governor because of an ill wife, and federal government along with several members of the royalty. Anyone of influential means or important family heredity was definitely going to put in an appearance at this grand opening. The Japanese multi-billionaire who financed the majority of the project was almost a household word and to miss an opportunity to show up at one of his gala parties was an almost certain social error.
The other employees were resplendent in their best hotel uniforms consisting of gold brocade dripping off the bell hops to the crisp starched white blouses of the maids. The entire setup rivaled any of the best New York had to offer and the contingent of guests equaled or surpassed any high society gathering held in the big apple.
Dilford Bailey, with his normal scornful expression, greeted the guests with an air of inpatients unless, they were of the elite, super important. These persons, either by wealth or high public profile, were catered to the minute they passed the doorway. Dilford would snap his fingers at one of the many stationed bellhops and expect the important guest to be led to a pre-marked table setting and a waiter to be immediately summoned to get the drink order. The manager’s hawk like vision noticed two men, he had not seen come through the front doors approach the front desk. Though they were dressed in tuxedos, they looked unnaturally out of place in the plush surroundings. There was something crude about them but, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He started to walk toward the front desk when he saw one of the men pull a revolver out of his coat and point it at the desk clerk. Just as Dilford Bailey opened his mouth to summon the security guard posted in the middle of the wall leading toward the front desk, he heard a gruff voice in his ear and felt a hard nudge in the area of his right kidney.