A Face Made For Daylight

Heartbreak Hotel

*It's a long chapter because it's a time jump one!  All the music is at the bottom.  I gave both of them the Alex Turner 2013 hair***

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Los Angeles, Hollywood – 1957

The roaring sound of a Triumph 6T Thunderbird pulled up to the Tranquility Base Hotel as heads turned recognizing the man revving the engine. Alistair stepped off the pedal and looked up to the sky grinning as the sun warmed his skin on this summer day. Jerry Lee Lewis's hit song echoing from the lobby.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain

"Would you like me to park it out in the back for you boss?" Jackson beamed looking down at the bike.

Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill

"Nah—just leave it here." Alistair walked past him knowing no one would dare touch his property. He was very respected and known in the area. The owner of the hottest spot for celebrity and socialite sightings in Tinseltown, a whose-who Hotel and lounge. It was also flooded with high rollers and politicians. When they first talked about signing the hotel over to Alistair instead of Kid, James had a vision for the place. With the popular rise in science fiction and the Space Race between the Soviets and the US, the hotel was fittingly space themed, drawing in a lot of attention and success. The only exception was the hotel bar and lounge area, which Alistair redecorated to look like the Cabaret de l'Enfer in Paris, where he and Maire performed in the 20's. It was also the one room in the hotel he found himself in all the time, alone, lost in nostalgia. Alistair also owned part of the Casino in Nevada, which he would visit time to time.

"Hi Alistair." A group of girls waved and giggled at him as he strutted by. He simply pulled a cigarette to his lips and looked in their direction arching a brow and smirking behind his aviators.

Making his way to the entrance, he looked at his reflection through the rotating doors and pulled a comb from his back jeans pocket, leaning in to style his quiff. He placed his comb back and retrieved his lighter bringing it to his cigarette to light it. Inhaling the nicotine, he looked at himself brushing off a patch of dust from the road off his leather jacket. He wore his jeans cuffed over his boots. He looked like Marlon Brando in The Wild One.

Alistair couldn't help but stare at the Hollywood sign reflecting on the glass door of his hotel from the hills across. He clenched his jaw remembering Marie making a fuss about how the sign was changed from Hollywoodland to Hollywood. She thought it made it more exclusive, more important. She became enthralled with the world of glamour. Snapping back to reality he pushed his way through the doors as hotel patrons watched him walk through the lobby to the music coming off the speakers.

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

"Here's your drink sir." Marcus was already prepared sliding a drink on the counter, smiling as Alistair made his way through the hotel bar and lounge. He looked around and noticed a few patrons and couples in dark corners, politicians with younger women who mimicked the style of Marilyn Monroe, but didn't come close to her beauty. Business as usual. His eyes caught a glimpse of the grand piano in the corner, and his mind went to her again today.

Alistair handed Marcus his jacket and sat down at the bar alone. Unlike the rest of the hotel, this was the only room that played Jazz music. With the rise of rock'n'roll music across the nation, Alistair couldn't let go of the past. He held onto nostalgia waiting, stagnant in his own plot line. He sighed in relief as the gin hit the back of his throat. A comforting taste, a healing potion, embellishing the banks of his bloodstream.