The House Always Wins - 6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

His home, a private suite on the top floor of the hotel, was an unexpected surprise. I half expected it to be a sterile, masculine place with a lot of glass and little color, like his office. What I found instead was a home, not unlike the one I'd been kicked out of, cozy and warm, but more luxurious than I was used to. It could only be reached by the private elevator, accessed from downstairs. There were three buttons inside; ‘residence', ‘office', and ‘lobby'; a key-card was needed for activation - the elevator wouldn't move without it.

"So what's your actual name?" he had asked on the way up.

"My friends call me JJ, which is short for Jason Jake. Last name's Carter."

"I'll use Jason, if you don't mind; I like to call people by their given name. My father used to call me MB, and it drove me nuts. So please call me Michael. My full name is Michael Bartholomew Black."

I shrugged but he was pretty adamant about it.

"It's important: the small things, like middle names and such, are going to sell us as a couple."

The elevator arrived with a soft ping.

"We have the rest of this afternoon and evening; and tomorrow morning, to get to know this sort of stuff from each other: little quirks, likes and dislikes, things like that."

The doors opened right into a spacious living room with huge windows overlooking the city. Light brown, comfortable-looking sofas were arranged in a semi-circle facing the windows, and a top-of-the-line plasma TV.

I followed Michael out of the elevator, and my shoes sank deep into the cream-colored carpet, giving me the urge to take them off and walk on bare feet. I resisted the urge and took a few steps inside, hearing the doors close softly behind me.

On the far side of the apartment was a long hallway, leading to the back of the suite. Next to the hallway, there was a small bar with five barstools and a rack of liquor above it. An open arch behind it showed me a glimpse of a luxurious kitchen.

"I'll show you the place, so you won't get lost. I can't have you walking into a closet when you need to use the bathroom, now can I?"

I snickered at that, and a corner of his mouth curved up as well.

The suite wasn't overly big. Most of the other rooms were accessible from the living room; to the right there was the dining room and beside that a study. A huge desk took up almost a quarter of the room and one of the walls was lined with books; the other with several TV screens. A computer sat on the desk, switched off.

A few comfortable chairs were in a windowed corner, both facing a chessboard. I love chess! I saw that there was a game in progress, still in a very early stage, and I studied it on and off as he showed me some things, listening with half an ear; then I moved the Queen when Michael wasn't looking. Let's see if he noticed.

The large kitchen was furnished with every kind of gadget available. The refrigerator, the most important appliance in any house in my opinion, was loaded with food. There was also a service elevator, for use of the maid, who'd come in five times a week. Another door led to a closet that held cleaning equipment.

We left the kitchen, and continued the tour; down the hall, there were three doors. The first door on the right revealed a large guestroom. Inside there was another door leading to a luxurious bathroom. The room itself was furnished with a comfortable bed, a desk and a sitting area with a sofa and a chair. There was also was a walk-in closet (the size of my own bedroom back home!!!), a plasma TV, and state-of-the-art audio equipment.

Michael told me to leave my backpack here; I could unpack it later that evening, since this would be the room where I'd be sleeping for the next month to six weeks.

The next door, to the right, revealed the master bedroom. It was much bigger. The bed stood on a small rise; you had to climb three steps to get into it. It wasn't large, but it looked very comfortable, and old. I guessed it was an antique.

The room also had a luxurious bathroom, with a Jacuzzi tub, and separate shower. The rest of the room contained two walk-in closets (one revealed casual clothing, the other business attire), three plasma TVs, audio equipment, lots of bookcases, and an antique desk. A laptop sat on it, closed, and a phone with loads of buttons.

Two of the TV's switched on as soon as we entered, one showing a screen split up in four views of several security cameras on the casino floor; the other the lobby of the hotel.

We left the master bedroom, and checked out the last door; it was a bathroom for visitors. Then we went back to the living room, and I took a seat on one of the barstools while Michael walked around behind the bar, asking me if I wanted anything to drink.

"Water, Evian if you have it."

"Check. Are you one of those health freaks?" he asked, producing a bottle from a stocked fridge filled to the brim with all sorts of beverages.

"No, I just like ice-cold water."

"How about Coke, beer or alcoholic preferences?"

"Cherry Coke, if it's available; I usually don't drink alcoholic stuff."

He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"It makes me...an easy target," I explained, shyly. God, I had to stop that.

He smiled for a moment.

"I'll have to remember that. I'll get some Cherry Coke up here. I myself like a beer on occasion; I prefer an Irish Stout, as it is referred to, called Guinness, which I have on tap here, or one of these." He held up a bottle of Heineken, unscrewing the cap. "I also like a Cognac before I go to bed, but other than that, I never touch strong liquor."

I took a sip from the bottle he set in front of me, while he came around the bar and pulled up a stool as well.

He reached inside his jacket, producing his key-card for the elevator, sliding it over.

"Take this; I have another one. Don't lose it, and keep it on you; I don't have time to constantly let you in or out."

I put the card in my t-shirt pocket, watching as he wrote something down on a small piece of paper.

"This is the security code for the alarm; memorize it, then use the shredder in the study to get rid of it. It changes once a week."

I looked at the string of numbers that made absolutely no sense at all; I'm a basket case with numbers.

"All right, now we get to some other things you'll need. Tomorrow, we're going to do some shopping. You're going to need a lot more clothes, shoes and other items. Here's a credit card you can use for any expenses you have while you're here, and I'm not there to pay."

He held it out to me between two fingers, pulling it back when I reached for it. "It has no limit. Can I trust you with it?"

"You can. I don't need much." It was the truth; I've never used the things, except on Amazon.com, to buy books, or the occasional CD, or DVD.

"I hope so. Hmm...the clothes, shoes, and whatever else we buy tomorrow, are yours when this is over. These, however, are not..."

He held up a set of keys. "Here are the keys to a car you can use."

A dangling round logo told me that it was a BMW and I almost grabbed them out of his hands. Sweet!

"I'm an excellent driver, don't worry," I said, eying the keys.

"Mmm...maybe you should use the hotel limos, instead. I recognize that look. Desire...the need for speed..."

To my great disappointment he pocketed the keys again.

"No, no, no...aaaah, come on, I'm not an old lady who needs to be driven around."

A corner of his mouth turned upward again; was he testing me?

Then he produced the keys again, handing them over this time.

"Try not to scratch it," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, snatching the keys. Maybe this arrangement wouldn't be so bad after all.

**********

The rest of that evening was filled with all sorts of facts about ourselves, flying back and forth. He hated to be called ‘Mike' or ‘Mikey", for instance, while I hate to be called ‘Jase' or ‘Jay'. He had no other brothers or sisters, and his father had died when he was twenty-four. Education-wise, he had gone to Eton in England, and then on to Harvard.

He also came up with a small outline of how we were supposed to have met (on the Internet, of all places), and an approximate date of our first meeting, three months ago. His favorite drink was Guinness, as mentioned earlier, and he only drank coffee in the morning. He didn't drink wine, he disliked it; the same for champagne. Damn - I liked champagne sometimes. When it came to food, he liked just about everything except pasta, double damn; I love pasta. My mom once told me that was probably because of my biological dad; he was Italian.

Michael got up at 6am, and went to bed around 2am. I myself usually get up around 7am, turning in around 11 (on a weeknight), a time set by my parents, since they turned in at that time as well. I usually like to read for a while, which he did as well. Spanish or Italian novels were his favorite, and he usually watched the news channels and left the TV on, the sound turned down low, or off.

Other things mentioned were a few anecdotes from his past, names of past ‘acquaintances', the name of the maid (Gina) who would come in every weekday at ten to clean, change towels and the like. She'd be one of the select few that Michael would talk to, to inform some key people his mother knew, so that they wouldn't give away our secret arrangement. Aside from the maid, there was no other staff in the residence.

Michael couldn't cook. As for myself, I like doing that, on occasion; I used to be a guinea pig for my mom, and I guess it rubbed off on me. But Michael, according to himself, even screwed up a boiled egg, so dinners would mostly take place downstairs in one of the two restaurants; lunch usually consisted of fruit for him. His mother would probably be present during both meals.

He gave me some details about his mother, bits and pieces. Her name was Olivia; she was sixty-six years old. She lived in Kensington, London. She drank tea without sugar, a bit of milk. She also drank martinis, and sherry, preferring the former. She had a dog, a poodle named Chester, but he wouldn't be coming with her, since she despised putting the dog through the hell of quarantine every time she visited her son.

During the day I could do pretty much whatever I wanted, since she would be staying in a suite in the hotel; but if she asked me to take her somewhere, he said he'd greatly appreciate it. Michael preferred to have someone with her whenever she was here. Usually that meant sending a member of his staff along, but now that I was here, he asked if I would mind doing it. I had no problem with that at all.