The lobby was virtually vacant save the woman at the desk. She eyed us all as we came in.
"Name please?" It was then she noticed Koda and her stitching. The receptionist clearly was disgusted by what graced her eyes and I, turnig to the boys and giving a knowing expression, was not pleased by it. How dare she turn up her nose like she smells shit.
"Koda Ashlee."
The woman who looked about in her thirties with tossed brunette hair and purple designer frames latched to her face stared at her computer while typing in information. This woman was pretty, but, like so many I've seen, her attitude was hell-in-a-handbag. Awful.
"Here. Six room keys and you will be on floor four of the Pent-House Suites. Room five-zero-three."
"Thank you, have a nice evening." Koda answered nicely. As we walked to th elevators down a hall, I stared daggers at that woman until the wall bade me stop.
Mikey having pressed the "up" arrow, we waited patiently until a door to our lefts ringed and out stumbled a couple; a tuxedoed man dragging his obviously intoxicated girlfriend along in her champagne colored dress and one matching heel on her foot, the other in hand. We filed into the elevator just as the blonde curled over and hurled whatever it was that had once lay boiling in her stomach but now lay scowering the floor.
"I hate the sound of people throwing up." Jeremy cringed. I nodded.
The ride to our room was silent; us all tired and in need of a nice soft bed to lay in. In te corner were Koda and Zach; his arms laced around her waist from behind and their fingers locked together. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder for a second before the door singed again and we were able to leave.
The hall turned off sharply almost immediately after we get off the elevator to our rights. We scowered the room numbers until Bryan called to us and pointed to a grey door a the end of the hall by a mirror that overlooked the city. It was just as bussling at this hour as Los Angeles was back home. Strange sometimes how it seems cities never sleep.
The room was a pent-house suite alright. A full Ikea kitchen in silver with an island in the middle, a huge window that looked out over the city like the one in the hall with a balcony just outside. A white couch sat up on a landing under the window. There was at least a ninety-inch plasma flatscreen on the wall in front of a quant living-room setting with a vase full of native flowers on the center coffee table. There was a bathroom down a hall and a bedroom across from it win another straight ahead.
"Holy shit! There's food all up in this fridge!" Jer yelled from the refrigerator's open door. I laughed at I went to the door adjacent to where he was and went out onto the balcony. It was quiet up here for seconds before the slow, night wind calmed and the metropolis below blared into my ears. I leaned over the bar, locking my tatted knuckles, and just let what thought would come come. In truth, I was too tired to really think too much, but I still needed a little space. Alone time. Maybe there will be no soliloquy tonight, or at least not now I should say, for the voices that speak through me in my slumber will be no short on arrival. I just simply breathed in New Mexican air and let myself go for a moment.
