In parts 1 & 2, Tasha presents Amy with her birthday present of DJ & Jay. After a short side-track at a local store, they continue on in their weekend adventure...
III. The Hotel
So we fed the man. All of us, actually. Despite DJ’s earlier mouthings about ‘fine cuisine,’ I got my first treat of drive-through-in-a-limo. Jay insisted we all take our orders through the moon roof. While we ate, he entertained us with tales of his more stoned moments. If being given a body cavity search or waking up chained to a wall, naked, was really funny, I don’t know, but when Jay told it, it was. When he got going, you couldn’t shut him up. Still, even though or maybe because his profanity-laced dialogue was all one run-on sentence punctuated by ‘dude!’ more often than was necessary even in surfer-ese, he had us rolling. At times we nearly fell off our seats.
In the hour-and-a-half following, we switched cars, to a rented silver SUV (courtesy of Tasha again) and drove out to her property. It nestled right up against the foothills. There were several acres, between 5 and 20, to a parcel. Jay asked Tasha quite a few practical questions about putting in roads and utilities, having horses, taxes, and the like. She had it down as well as a realtor. DJ looked at me and suggested a walk-around. Alone with him again, I was much more at ease. We walked up the fence-line slowly, trading bits of personal information. He told more about his experiences with chemo and surgery, going as far as to say that at one time he’d wished for death but now was glad it hadn’t found him.
After Jay had seen all he’d cared to, and had lay down in the middle of a patch of marsh grass for good measure, we climbed back into the SUV and took off. I tried to remember the sequence of turns we’d taken to get there. It was a nice area, fairly isolated. Maybe someday I’d save up enough for my own place, too. Soon we were on the main road back to town. Half-way there, Tasha made an unexpected left under a stone arch-way I’d noticed before but had taken as someone’s private ranch entrance. No one else seemed to be in the dark about where we were going so I kept the questions to myself for once. About 2 miles in, we drove along a long slow arch to the left and went in an S-turn up into the first step of the foothills. As the trees opened up, we spotted a large manor-house, or what looked like a German fief.
It really was quite amazing. I hadn’t seen anything even remotely like it west of the Peekskills. Though on a larger scale, Riverdale copied a Bavarian inn. Three stories high with a row of dormer windows over that, still the natural trees hid it till one got within a couple hundred yards. Then, the only word for it was magnificent. The driveway inclined slightly up to its recessed front doors. There was a roofed area for loading and unloading whose pillars were made entirely of rock. From the angle we approached the place, it had looked square, with about twenty windows to a side. The sun was just going down on the windless evening, and it reflected off the amber tinted windows all along the west side. “The boys,” as I’d started thinking of them, unfolded their lanky frames out of the car and Tasha and I followed suit.
As soon as we entered the dark-paneled, plushly carpeted lobby, I realized it was actually built in an “L” formation. We approached the front desk where a somewhat effeminate young man and a small curvy woman, both in black business suits, stared us down. I came out of my daze enough to wonder, and then grasp, what the four of us must look like. As in, two players with their “escorts.” Never mind that one was obviously stoned and one looked like he was about fifteen. People would still know who they were. Tasha and I were nobody. I tried to quit gawking like a peasant at the elegant furnishings. When Tasha stepped up and handed over her credit card, I felt a little better. Maybe she and I could be the big shots and they were our escorts.
We were shown down a hallway, at the end of which was a shiny little elevator, and to our rooms two floors up. Or rather, to our deluxe suite. One of two, I later learned. Ours was in the southwest corner. As soon as the concierge left, tip in hand, Tasha and I scampered about examining every inch of our temporary home. There were two bedrooms across from each other, each with a large dormer window and a king sized bed beneath it. They had identically equipped master baths. Either’s spa tubs could have held all four of us; I was already getting ideas. The living room area was sunken two steps and featured two huge leather couches, a corner-set gas fireplace, a computer desk in the other corner and an electronic horn of plenty. There was also a small kitchen and bar area tucked in close to the front doors, and a small bath room back to back with a walk in closet across from that. Everything was in tasteful shades of gray, black, and off-white. The more we snooped into cupboard and cabinets, the more we saw that the place was loaded for bear. There were expensive brands of shampoo, conditioners, skin care products, lotions, and to our delight, interesting lubricants and gels in the bedside tables. We couldn’t have made a meal, but there were plenty of munchies in the kitchen. The bar was well-stocked and the half-sized fridge contained a variety of mixers, and some meat-and-cheese plates and fruit. Through it all, DJ stood to the side with his arms crossed, and an amused, knowing smile on his lips.
“First time in the lap of luxury?” he asked me. I wasn’t sure if that was just a question or if he was suggesting I was born in the barn.
“Uh…not really….” I stammered, trying not to let my hackles rise without knowing what he was really asking. “First time in a long time, though.” On my honeymoon almost ten years ago I’d been in a couple decent hotels. Nothing near as fine as this, though. Certainly not with a hot tub in the room, much less two.
“I grew up pretty normal,” DJ continued. “Three, four years ago I’d never seen anything like this, either. Watching you, I’m remembering that.”
“So, you weren’t somehow calling me a hick, were you?” I cross-examined.
“Oh, no way. I’m a way bigger hick that you! Growing up where I did, I’m surprised I never dated my sister,” he snorted, trying to catch a drop of spit that flew out of his mouth. “See? I’m not exactly mister suave.”
After that I felt a little better; less on my guard. This one at least was still semi-human. I had to wonder about Jay. He was obviously distracted, and very much out if his natural surroundings. DJ, in the next instant, set up shop as bartender and poured Tasha a rum and coke. Jay wandered over long enough to grab a “bee-ah” from him and retreated to the other side of the room. I asked DJ for a screwdriver, which he poured with a wicked glint in his eye. Tasha snickered. He dug around under the cupboard for a bit, coming up with a bottle of Southern Comfort.
“Eugh!! How can you drink that swill?” Tasha asked. I was of the same opinion on the subject.
“Oh, you know,” said DJ, measuring out a shot. “Every good Southern boy likes this shit!” He held his shot glass up. “Cheers!” Tasha and I linked arms, echoed him, and bolted our drinks.
“Fill ‘er up!” Tasha commanded as she slammed down her glass.
