Jack Scribe
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An executive office secretary called the apartment at 8:30 a.m. and asked if it was convenient for Drew to come in early for an 11:00 a.m. meeting with Nero’s VP of operations. ‘Fuck,’ he thought, ‘convenient is the last thing you think of if the big guy calls you at home.’ As he drove to the meeting, he was pretty sure that there was change in the air; Bill, the hotel resident manager, had been caught on the upstroke with some bimbo in a vacant suite. It happened when the director of hou
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Drew opened the fridge door and grabbed three beers. He was grateful that Charlie had rearranged his bellman schedule so that there was extra muscle for the move-in day. “As promised, here’s some adult refreshment,” Drew said as he walked back to the living room area to join Charlie and Bob. ‘Hmm,’ he thought, admiring the sight of the two guys in sweaty gym shorts and sneakers, ‘under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have minded being the meat in this sandwich.’ “What are ya sm
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Bob spent the next two weeks moving from one office to the next to learn how the Nero’s sales and marketing department worked. Since marketing would be his specialty, an overview exposure to hotel sales was brief. In the evenings he divided his time between his comp suite at the hotel and Drew’s old apartment. He learned that the marketing wing of the hotel was responsible creating events to bring in gamblers. Aside from the internationally famous poker tournaments, planning centered on m
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Bob’s job offer came with a $20,000 signing bonus. He wasn’t naïve and knew that it was friendly ‘hush’ money from Nero’s to put the Bosco incident behind him. However, as a newbie college graduate about to start out on his first job, Bob gladly accepted the funding. He signed the legal documents that released the casino from any responsibility and agreed on a fair trainee management salary that would be reviewed in six months. Bob would report to his new boss, Mike Diamond, in two weeks
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The L.A. trio departed around three, but not before Bob and Drew traded telephone numbers and email addresses. Al’s decision to leave late Sunday afternoon was fortuitous. Bob was lazily watching CNN early Labor Day morning in his Valley bedroom of 22 years. Al had dropped Bob off Sunday night before Trish and he went on to the Westwood condo that would soon become Mr. and Mrs. Al Bromley, Junior’s, official residence. ‘Breaking News’ suddenly appeared on the screen and the picture showed
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The sheets and blanket were twisted and lying on the floor. In the center of the bed, two nude young men were sleeping and breathing deeply as one naturally rested his groin into the asscrack of the other. Two bodies were glued as one. Their skin was a little flushed and slightly glistened with sweat. Drew groggily opened one eye and looked at the bedside clock. It indicated 7:33 a.m. He then became aware of his bed companion. It was hard to miss, after becoming more awake, the feel of a
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They both showered and Drew shaved for the day at the gym. After picking up a couple of sliced turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches at the deli, Drew and Bob drove through the city streets to a neighborhood in an older area off Tropicana, midway between UNLV and the Strip. “This town really stretches out, doesn’t it?” Bob asked. “I’ve been to Vegas several times, but only to the casinos on the Strip and downtown.” “The city has grown at least 400% in the past 15 years. I guess th
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A long Labor Day holiday weekend in Las Vegas, and having an abundance of fun seekers in the hotel was always exciting. As head concierge at Nero’s Forum, the legendary, Roman-themed hotel and casino resort, Drew’s responsibility was to facilitate the fun, as long as it was ‘within reason and was legal’. Drew Reichardt commanded the VIP guest services desk with his name boldly announced by an engraved brass plaque displayed on the marble counter. Nero’s, the grand dame on the strip, had b
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NOVEL. Drew is an ambitious, young manager at a Las Vegas casino resort who becomes smitten with an arriving guest. Danger lurks as their friendship grows. Book 1 of the Vegas trilogy.
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Saturday early evening – Palm Springs There was no hemming and hawing about what wine to buy: Oleg had his favorite brands for every occasion. He picked up two bottles of his preferred vin ordinarefor lazing around the house and pool – Kendall-Jackson chardonnay – and started back to the front of the small, now-empty shop. As he walked up the center aisle, he noticed that the hot guy in the tight black tank top and molded jeans was outside getting into the back seat of the big bucks coupe t
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Saturday late afternoon – Palm Springs No matter how he cut it, Henry knew he had fallen into a sweet deal: escaping the police net, and acquiring an intriguing, hot boyfriend with the offering of financial security…at least, in the short term. ‘I can make this work with no sweat,’ he thought as he shaved, ‘it’ll be a win-win situation for both of us.’ He studied his smooth face; it was back to a clean-shaven look for the first time since he had suddenly departed from L.A. five days earlier
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Saturday morning- Santa Monica Dave stirred slightly as he awakened from a satisfying deep sleep and discovered he was still lying on his side, spooned up against Mike’s familiar backside. The reflections of the early morning May sun from the pool cast a cool, shimmering light that spilled into the bedroom, bounced off the ceiling and onto the large king-size bed that the two men had shared for years – first in San Diego and now here. Dave opened his eyes wider, pulled closer and slid his h
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Early Saturday, just after midnight The drive from the bar to Calderón’s house took less than 10 minutes. Not much time for Rory to consider the recent turn of events. ‘This dude must be a big player in drug trafficking,’ he thought as he drove, ‘but clean enough to freely travel in and out of the U.S. of A., and he’s obviously into porn.’ He could use the thousand dollars to replenish his cache of funds but couldn’t help but feel there was risk involved. Rory followed the hulking blac
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Wednesday afternoon Gordy and Stan’s thorough surveillance report had been submitted earlier than Oleg had expected. Names, photos, data and recordings – they were all logged and in sequence. He was able to review the information and send it on to Washington by late afternoon. In his cover email, he recommended that details concerning Chad’s lunchtime tryst with the past-prime movie star in Bel Air be deleted before forwarding everything to the FBI. ‘No reason to screw around with the life
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Tuesday night I had had a major reason for feeling extremely buoyant, and that was the telephone call from Brad Williams. Talking with the retired movie star was enough to excite him – even though he had met Brad the previous weekend at the hospital. But what sent him into overdrive was the glorious news that Rory Reed had been positively identified as the murderer of Harvey Fine and that Thad’s name was completely cleared of the heinous crime. The Nightmare on Elm Street – in this case, on
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Tuesday afternoon The final scenes to wrap up the video production had gone surprising well. Physically, Rory was in ‘hard’ form and knew he looked hot. But not so hot were his masked emotions. The detectives’ visit to his home the previous afternoon was gnawing away in the back of his mind – even though the police had found nothing. As he slammed in and out of Baby for the cameras, Rory replayed the events of the past weekend in his mind. ‘Did I forget anything?’ he wondered as he drove ho
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Mid-afternoon traffic was still mellow – for Los Angeles – and Oleg navigated the surface streets without any major problems. He cut through the Beverly Hills ‘flats’ and angled his way over to Sunset Boulevard. As he turned on to the winding drive approaching Harvey Fine’s house, a ‘black and white’ was barricading the street. Oleg pulled over to the curb, lowered the driver’s window and waited for one of the policemen to approach him. ‘Damn. What’s the deal? I want to get into the house and in
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Monday, late evening Stakeouts had never been high on Gordy Bostwick’s list of enjoyable duties. The space inside a vehicle was usually cramped, the climate was inevitably stuffy and the time spent was incredibly boring – occasionally interrupted by unplanned moments of danger and stress. And if sleep deprivation wasn’t a factor, irregular diets and inadequate liquids worked into the equation. Contrary to urban myth, investigators didn’t imbibe continuous cups of coffee: they had to sparing
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Monday, late afternoon Feeling every day of his 38 years, Oleg leaned back in his leather desk chair and closed his eyes for a moment to analyze the day’s events. ‘Crap, this all happened in just the last few hours,’ he reminded himself, ‘and the business day isn’t over yet?’ In the CD player – he was not yet part of the iPod generation – Mahler’s 5thby Solti’s Chicago Symphony Orchestra was playing. ‘This is definitely a time to unwind with Gustav, Sir George and the mighty CSO.’ He wanted
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Monday afternoon There was a flood of new people for Thad to meet around the studio. After HR had processed all the necessary personnel paperwork, Doug accompanied him to the producer’s suite of offices so the ‘suits’ and all the various assistants would know the director’s point man. Thad would be the runner between the two entities – business and creative – through all phases of production. The afternoon staff meeting in the trailer pulled together all the key members of the film crew and
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The click of the lock disengaging echoed in the still, confined space – along with the heavy breathing of the two men. Several thoughts flashed through Oleg’s mind as he watched the tense detective touch the doorknob. At 38 and touching the apex of middle age, he was reluctantly ready to traverse the downside of life’s slope. It was a life that he judged a success so far. He considered his parents, now comfortably retired in La Jolla, and the dinner that his mom would be making for his monthly v
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Monday Morning couldn’t arrive fast enough for Thad. His eyes popped open ten minutes before the early wake-up alarm would go off and he considered a plan of attack. He wanted to re-read the material that had accompanied the script to make sure his first day at work went well. ‘Hopefully as well as my conversation with Dad yesterday,’ he thought while he shaved. After being assured by the detective that all the sordid details of the car wreck were buried in the murder investigation, Thad ha
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Sunday morning I had opened one eye, rolled over to his side and glanced at the time. The green, digital face of the bedside clock glowed, ‘7:30’, his reliable clock radio alarm had activated and weekend NPR talk disturbed the calm of the bedroom. ‘Damn. I forgot to turn off the alarm,’ he thought when both eyes opened to the sight of the familiar framed movie posters hung on the wall, ‘but what a relief to be home.’ Steady, heavy breathing told him that Benny was still asleep in the other
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Saturday afternoon Rory and Officer Petrie silently climbed the stairs from the sub-level garage to the outdoor courtyard patio of the attached condo complex. The 60-ish two-story building – containing 24 town homes – was constructed around a token swimming pool with several chaise lounges and a large Jacuzzi. Each unit opened onto the courtyard. They walked to the mailbox area where the front entrance was located and Rory opened the gate. “Wiedermeier?” asked the other officer as he w
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AOI – Alpha One International – was the public face of a highly secret organization called Alpha. Both entities had been formed over 100 years ago as a networking organization that helped closeted gay members of government to safely live and professionally function within an oppressive turn-of-the-20th century atmosphere. Throughout its century-old history, Alpha members were dedicated to defending the U.S. Constitution and advancing equality of America’s GLBT population. Its membership was comp
