Monday, 1 January 2007 – Worcester, MA

“Ah shit… I’m never drinking again.” Now we all know that’s a lie, but who knows, maybe if I keep telling that to myself then eventually I’ll believe it. Ha! Fat chance. I’d have more chance of morphing into somebody who gave a crap about your opinion than that.

Damn it.

My head is throbbing. Generally I like to take the time to have a quiet moment or two to myself in the morning. You know… evaluate the proceedings of yesterday; look forward to the capricious nature of today… all that jazz. Quite honestly though, all I want to do right now is wet the cotton mouth I’ve developed over night and cleanse my shell from the filth that last night soaked me in. Wiping my chin of the slight drool that I occasionally release during nights I sleep on my stomach – which is most nights I’m drunk – I push myself up a bit and roll to the side.

Insert loud crashing noise here.

Tripping over the sheets wrapped around me, I fall to the ground, smacking my head against the set of drawers at my bedside. Rubbing my head, I just sit there for a moment. Blinking and looking round, I only just realize that this room is an absolute mess. T-shirts, polo shirts, dress shirts, jackets, jeans, bras, shoes, socks… wait! Bras? Well… one bra to be exact.

Can you say what the fuck did I do last night?

Screw it, I’ll sort this out when I’ve mad my mandatory wake-up call. Time to hit the shower. Scrambling to my feet, I snap the sheets from my body and toss them into a crumpled pile on the top of the bed. I guess I’ll sort that out later on too.

Now to get my bearings. The shower is… behind that door over there! Stumbling across the room, I gently slide my left hand across the wall to keep me perfectly balanced, and to help me should I step on a clothing item that throws off said balance. Reaching my destination, I turn the door handle and push the door open. It doesn’t budge so I try again. Again, no luck. I don’t understand, there’s no lock on this damn thing. Again I push and again it doesn’t move.

Hey! I got it! Pulling the door with fervent vigour, it flies open and almost takes me out. After narrowly avoiding being hit by this weapon of Lee’s destruction, I search for the light switch inside this room. Eventually finding it on the other side of the door than I was originally looking, I flick it and the brightness burns my cornea. Blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the change in light intensity, I eventually find myself looking into a wardrobe. I sure fucked that one up, didn’t I?

Slamming the door shut with the light still on inside the wardrobe, I turn around and spot a door not too far around the room. I feel like I’m in one of those annoying game show. “What’s behind door number one?” Licking my lips to try and aid my dried mouth, I begin my mission across the room once again. Repeating the same process that I used in order to get to the wardrobe door, my left hand brushes the wall and I tiptoe amongst the maze of clothing. When I reach it, I immediately pull the handle, but this time I forget to turn it. Shit. My shoulder lurches back to the point where if I had pulled any harder, I very well may have dislocated it. Carefully turning the handle now, I lightly open the door and easily flick the column of switches. Lights come on. Heater comes on. Fan comes on. Shrugging, I move towards the large shower and reach inside. Turning the knob inside to a point at the hot end of the scale, I pull my arm out as the first droplets of water splatter on my skin. The shower roars to life, hammering water down onto its floor.

Sliding my army camouflage boxer shorts to my ankles, I step out with my left foot. Carefully adjusting the boxers around my right ankle, I flick my foot up sending the boxers up into the air in front of me. My face watches as the boxer shorts hit the peak of their and begin to fall. Lurching forward, I snatch the shorts in my hands and go crashing shoulder first into the edge of the shower. I balance myself instinctively to avoid another tumble, and I then find some sort of comfort in the fact that I managed to catch my boxers. Come on… you all know you do the exact same thing.

Throwing my treasure to the side, I step into the shower and let the water beat down over my tired, naked body. I’ve never been able to figure out why it’s so relaxing to just stand there in a shower for long periods of time. First of all, standing up is never as relaxing as sitting or lying down. Hmm… maybe I should get one of those shower/bath combinations installed, and lie down in the bath while the shower head spews out over me. That’s not a bad idea. But back to the completely irrelevant thought at hand, this relaxation technique appears to take the place of actually lathering soap over your body and cleaning yourself, therefore sacrificing hygiene in favour of relaxing. Now I’m not one to complain about getting a chance to become lost in your own thoughts, but I place a huge emphasis on being clean. It’s just one of my pet peeves.

Then, we have the fact that all that is occurring is water is running down your naked body. This is the closest thing I can figure out as to why it’s such a universal technique of relaxing. It’s just like a natural massage. Forget about the whole concept of a shower being created by man, as humans we have a duty to be completely oblivious to anything we don’t see. You press the switch and the light goes on, you turn the knob and the shower temperature changes. There is nothing else in between. A shower is natural. And the pounding down of water onto your muscles definitely massages you, but I think it’s the whole one with water thing that makes us more favourable to this form of relaxing. Being around other people is so tiring. To have another person massage you, requires you to keep up the façade you put on around others, in order to not embarrass yourself. What would happen if you had an orgasm during that massage? You’d be a laughing stock. If you orgasm here, well it’s only you who will be effected if you step in it. I know that’s an extremely crude way of looking at things, but crude things often stand out the most to us. We remember them. So remember that.

Holy shit it’s been a while since I’ve been able to just do nothing. I’ve been so busy these last couple of months. I’ve been so busy searching everywhere I could. While you’re looking for it, you’re able to push past the limits that would previously have been set up, but when you finally find it, everything always catches up to you and you barely have a chance to make the most of it all.

I can’t help but laugh a little to myself. I’ve always found it amusing the path that your thoughts travel down when you’re left with nothing to do. Night time is the worst for me in that department. I lie for what can sometimes be hours just thinking about things. I wish I could get to sleep but then I’d wind up thinking about other things I wish for. From there my thoughts would drift to how I can achieve them, why I haven’t achieved them, and then eventually the age-old question, just what the heck have I achieved? The answer is always the same, I have successfully achieved a further delaying of me getting to sleep. Super.

How long have I been in here? Ten, fifteen minutes? I could stay in here all day, but I think that’ll do. Lapping some water into my mouth, and swirling it around, I swallow it and simultaneously turn off the shower. Sighing a little, I now push open the door to the shower, and reach for a towel. Drying myself to the best possible level, I step out of the shower and wrap the towel around my waist. Walking out of the bathroom, I examine the floor for clothes. They all appear to have been worn and I’m damn sure that wardrobe was empty when I accidentally opened it earlier. I didn’t really look though. Double checking this assumption, I make my way across the floor with much more ease this time. Opening the door, I find out that it was indeed empty. Where the hell is my suitcase? With water slowly dripping off my body onto the carpet of this hotel bedroom, I walk to the third door to this room, back near the point where I fell off the bed. Snatching my black leather belt from the dressing table, I open the door and am met with more light flooding around me. It doesn’t take much time to adjust to.

I see my suitcase on the edge of the sofa directly in front of me. Striding the distance in four steps, I search threw it and find a pair of dark blue jeans, some Incredible Hulk boxers, and a blue Superman shirt. Dropping the towel down, I quickly slide the boxers, jeans and shirt on. Hooking the belt up, I pick up the towel and turn around to find a petite brunette woman staring at me from the open kitchen. Did she just see me… yeah… yeah she did. She smiles a little.

“I get another show this morning do I?” I’m not quite sure what to respond with, so I quickly look for something to change the subject with. She’s cooking! Awesome, that’ll do.

“Making breakfast?” I ask, as if she never even spoke to me.

“Bacon and eggs,” she says while nodding. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your food.

“Not at all,” I dismiss her concerns. “I’m just happy I don’t have to cook it myself.”

“Glad I could be of service then.” She curtseys a little. It’s cute. She’s cute. “And thank you for helping me last night. You were so kind to me, and that’s exactly what I needed from somebody last night.”

“No problem luv,” I salute her a little, and then my mind gets to thinking. Who is she? She’s not that girl I told Justin I was going to go for, is she? I think she might be. I’m quite sure of it in fact. What was her name again? Claire… Connie… Carrie… Karen! “Excuse me while I go throw this towel back into the bathroom Karen.”

She nods in response, and her face shows no signs of anger. I got the right name, awesome. Heading back into my bedroom, I toss the towel lazily into the open bathroom door, and then scoop up my suit jacket from where I hung it on the corner of another set of drawers. It’s hard to get used to having winter during the holiday season after being used to the summer. Sliding the jacket on, I head back out into the main area of this hotel room.

“Your phone beeped,” Karen tells me as she hears me re-enter the room. Looking around for the phone, I find it resting on the counter in the kitchen near her with my wallet and keys. The smell of her perfume wafts up my nose as I have to reach past her to reach all three items. Tropical. I like tropical.

“Smells good,” I say, motioning towards the meal she is preparing for me, but truthfully referring to her. She mumbles a thank you, as I leave the kitchen and dive over the back of the sofa onto the couch. Hearing the springs twang as I land, I barely have time to catch the suitcase with my feet and readjust it so it won’t fall. Pressing “Read” on my phone, the message appears on the screen for me.

Meet me in the lobby restaurant now.

It’s from Justin. I really can’t be assed going down to see him, but he did say “now”. Looking over to Karen, I power myself up to my feet and make my way closer to her.

“How long to go?” I ask her, eyeing the meal.

“I’ve barely started, why? Are you hungry now?” She doesn’t even look up from the frying pan.

“I’ve got to go out briefly. I don’t think I’ll be too long. You can stay here and eat if you want, hopefully I’ll be back in time to join you.” She does look up now, with a near expressionless face.

“I guess it’d be a waste of food not to finish this.” She prods some of the bacon cooking.

“That it would. Wait ‘till I get back before you leave. The TV is over there if you get bored.” I point with my head. “I’ll see you again soon.”

Without waiting for a response, I’m gone. Walking barefoot down the hallway, I get into the elevator alone and ride it all the way to the bottom with only the annoying elevator music to keep me company. It’s probably a good thing nobody else joined me. Had they done so I may have been tempted to take out the rage that the stupid and cheesy music has induced within me, on the other person’s already ugly face.

The doors open at the bottom and I make my way past the reception desk, angling towards the restaurant in the corner of the lobby. Pausing momentarily, I walk back to the reception desk and look up at the scrawny Indian man working there.

“Mornin’ Kerpal,” I try my best to say in a perky, awake voice. It doesn’t really work out for me.

“Caesar!” He responds, making reference to a running joke from when I checked in. “You look like elephant trample you, rreverrse back overr and then go forrd again.”

“Probably would’ve worked better had you used some form of automobile for that joke, but regardless, it still sums up nicely how I feel.” I can’t really fault the guy for being foreign can I? That’d be hypocritical for me to do.

“How can I help you?” His thick accent seems to fade when he asks those five words. I guess he’s said them enough times to make it second-nature. Or hell, maybe even first-nature now.

“I’ve got a girl up in my room right now, but I’ve gotta go do something and I don’t know how long I’ll be. I just want to make sure she doesn’t like rob me or anything along those lines.” I feel a little guilty immediately assuming that Karen would sink to that level, but in my experiences as a relatively famous person, anything could happen.

“We can use thee security cameras. They are onlee able to bee activated at thee request of thee guest in thee rom.”

“Sounds good to me. Do that.” Kerpal reaches down and brings out a sheet of paper.

“Fill this forrm in ferst, pleese.” Scrawling the required details into the form, I sign it and slide it back over to him.

“Cheers homie.” And with that I’m on my way across the marble floor of the lobby to the restaurant again. Quickly scanning the seating area, I see Justin at a table in the middle. I juke and jive between the tables to reach him, and shake his hand before pulling up a seat across from him. “What’s up?”

“Let’s get some breakfast and talk, I’ve got some news for you.” He hands me a menu but I’m not too sure as I think of Karen cooking for me upstairs.

“That girl is still in my place and she’s cooking for me right now.” He smirks at me.

“The two I got are both cooking for me right now, one at my place one in her own room. I’m still eating here.” He got two? Damn! I’m quite proud of him right now.

“If I eat too much I’m bound to throw up,” I comment, shifting the focus away from pity for Karen to pity for myself.

“If you throw up, I’ll force feed your own vomit to you,” Justin says with a smile.

“Noted.” I nod my head, not wanting that fate for myself. “Where’s a waiter?”

“You got what you want already?” He raises his eyebrow at me. I nod and he whistles for a waiter to come over. Rather than a waiter attending us, we get a nice young waitress instead. “I’ll have the Pancakes, please.”

“Anything to drink, sir?” She says calmly and sweetly, glancing at me a little while she says so.

“Just water for now.”

“Of course. And what about you?” She turns her attention unwavering towards me.

“French Toast, and a Budweiser.” JJ can’t muffle his laughter. The waitress seems unaffected by it. She nods and continues smiling.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you.” She departs our table, and both Justin and I stare after her, watching her tight buttocks walk away. When she’s out of sight, Justin smacks the back of my head.

“You’re drinking at this time of day?” He says, almost in awe. “It’s only eleven o’clock!”

“If there’s only one thing that I learned from my dad it’s that the best way to beat a hangover is to have another drink. It’s true as well, I’ve done it before.” He laughs again at me.

“Whatever you say man, but I think that blonde waitress wants you.” He looks over his shoulder to where the waitress is serving another table behind him.

“I want sleep though, that’s what I want.” I send a glance towards the waitress as well. The glance is returned. “What’d you want me to come here for anyway?”

“After what happened last night with that club, I’ve had a great idea.” He seems very happy with his idea, and I know he’s going to wait until I ask him for the idea.

“And what would that be?” I appeal to him, allowing to have his moment.

“We’re going to franchise the name V.I.P.” Okay, I’ll admit, I’m a little intrigued by this.

“Go on,” I urge him to continue with his plan.

“Think about it, I rebuilt L.A. Heat in San Diego, but since it’s not in L.A. anymore, it’ll need a new name. The club is already built, so if I fly over to California tomorrow or even today if you can get your jet ready in time,” which I definitely could, “then we can just have it renamed V.I.P San Diego.”

“I was just planning on selling off this place in Worcester a.s.a.p. but your idea could work.” I’ve got to give him credit here.

“V.I.P Worcester. We can franchise anywhere we need to, Las Vegas; Chicago; New York… anywhere.”

“New Zealand…” I add, thinking of the possibilities.

“Exactly!” He exclaims.

“I can pull a few strings and have the whole trademark issue solved in a matter of seconds. The inclusion of the city name should allow us to avoid stepping in on the territory of the VIP Room. This could work…”

“Not could… this will work.” Justin sits back proudly in his chair, content with himself.

“Nice work. I knew you’d come in handy sometime.” I smile, now content myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see the blonde waitress, carrying our meals over to us. Placing them down in front of us, she then hands my bottle of Bud directly to me. “Thank you.”

“That was quick service,” Justin remarks.

“We give good service to good customers,” she says with a wink towards me. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she turns and walks off. I pop open my bottle and take a sip from it, watching after her once more as she enters the women’s bathroom. I glance at Justin momentarily.

“What are you waiting for?” He practically screams at me. But I’m already on my way by the time he finishes his statement. I reach the door to the bathroom, and leaving the memory of Karen at the table with Justin, I glance around and when the coast is clear, I slink inside.