Free Access Unlimited by Alice Severin

anything behind the counter, no right at all.” She picked up
     the phone again. “I’ll call the manager.”
    Tristan’s eyes glittered. “You do that, sweetheart. Then tell him you’ve just lost
     his company steady bookings for weeks, all across the country, and your face isn’t
     going to be on the cover of Corporate Hotel Monthly .” He stood back. “But go ahead. It’s a free country.”
    She had the phone in her hand again, and was pushing buttons, while Tristan asked
     her if it wasn’t taking longer to call the manager than it would have to check him
     in, when a man in a suit, his tie twisted around, came out from the breakfast room.
     “Mr. Hunter,” he shouted across the 10 feet now separating them, “Mr. Hunter, welcome
     to Detroit.”
    The receptionist looked at him. He was looking at us. Jack and Pete were sitting on
     the ground with their backs against a potted plant, discussing breakfast. AC was rolling
     a cigarette, juggling a tobacco pouch and his phone. We all looked a bit used. In
     truth, maybe not the group you wanted your regular guests, who were handling sales
     for XYZ Company, to find on the way to their coffee and eggs. The manager forced a
     smile, then carried on in his stentorian tones. “Lucinda here was just finding your
     reservation.” I watched him glare at her, as she gulped, and began to assemble keys
     and cards.
    The revolving door spat out James, who took in the scene and came up to Tristan first.
     “Traffic,” he mouthed, then swung around to shake hands with the manager.
    “Mr. Lorimer, is it? We spoke on the phone. Thank you. I’ll take over.” He looked
     over at Lucinda. “Thank you, dear.” She turned away, huffily, completely unimpressed
     with his attempt to charm.
    Tristan walked over to the wall near the elevators. I followed, grimly. Finally James
     came over and handed one of the keys to Tristan. He took it, and without a word, pulled
     me by the hand into one of the elevators, looked at the key, pressed the button for
     the 10th floor, the top, and punched the door closed button. “Assholes. All of them.”
    “She didn’t know who you were.”
    “I don’t give a fuck. I’ve spent years doing this. It’s always the same. They either
     suck up so much you want to smack some sense into them, or they take one look at the
     band and the clothes, and decide you’re going to hell, and their cardboard rooms with
     fake flowers shouldn’t really hold such sinners.” He slumped down on the floor. “Shit.
     I’d forgotten how much I hate the day to day.”
    I started to say “James…,”
    Tristan cut me off. “He’s a fucking jackass as well. I would have sacked him if I
     had the time, and he knows it.” He stood up, and gave me a half-smile. “Life on the
     road.” He picked up my hand and kissed it. The tinny bell announcing we had arrived
     made us both look at the door as it opened. He took my hand and led me down the red
     carpeted hall. “I’m a diva, darling. Life on the road brings it out in me.” He laughed.
     “There will be a couple of good moments too. Bound to be. Come on sweetheart, I need
     to sleep some more.” He swatted my ass, and gave me that predatory look. “Then we
     can work on stress reduction.” I laughed. “You think I’m kidding.” His voice dropped
     an octave. “There’s only a few things that work…and you’re really good at every one
     we’ve tried so far.”
    He opened the door. There was a view of the flat endless suburbs of the Midwest, a
     wide-screen TV, a king size bed with chocolates, and a bottle of something resembling
     champagne in a bucket on the table. “Nice. Come on, Lily, a shower, a glass of whatever
     swill they’ve given us, and bed.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Day whatever
     day it is stress. I wonder where the fuck AC is.”
    I went over to him and put my arms around him, and listened to his heartbeat, fast,
     erratic, against my chest. “It’s ok. I