Enter Any Room (Part 2) A Fictional Masterpiece


I always worked out. There was a fancy gym a couple blocks from the hotel. Across the street after work-outs, I stop in this lively club, so lively, it had action going on three different floors. Through a sweet, lingerie model I meet the so-called owner, Margo. We get to talkin’, he tells me he wants to open up a joint down in South Beach, but he needs a hands-on partner here, along with a quarter-mil down.

I know the place turns money over. What I also know is, when a so-called Italian guy; club owner, ain’t mentioning any Mob guys he’s connected to….something’s up.

But I liked the idea. I had the dough right there in New York. Margo said we’ll bring lawyers in to handle the paperwork; silently in my mind I started agreeing to everything.Yet, only showing Margo with positive nods from my head.

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Then, I took a short limo ride to Newark, New Jersey, see an older Mob buddy of mine. I told, him ’bout the club deal, even told him about the cash I had in New York. Just to see if he needed some working capital for anything. This old pal in Jersey was a good, honest Joe.

He turns me down for the loan and says he’ll check this Margo guy out.

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When I got back to New York, it’s early evening so’s I stopped by the lounge in the hotel lobby.

You know the kind of place, lots of dark, shining wood, soft music, nice chairs and a union bartender, a bartender I knew.

The place wasn’t that crowded…..Yet, quickly noticing the movie star sitting by herself; I guessed drunk having some sort of loud conversation…. with no one sitting across from her.

She was a star that’s been around for a while, forty, maybe, pretty blonde, and I ain’t gonna mention her name.

All I did was send her a drink…. Then went to the wall phone in a dark corner.

Next thing I knew, I’m on the phone and she’s standing in front of me, holding onto the drink, telling me how much she hates men.

“….oh, boy,” I say to myself after I hung up, turned heading out a side door for the lobby….

The movie star is talking….Following….. Then she’s right up on me. And I notice she’s now got this carry-on bag hanging over her shoulder. I wondered why she just picked up and left the bar like that.

“….you alright?” Is all I ask…. and she keeps at it about men and going on here and there about her life.

Then, she pops out….”You got a room? I need to rest.”

“Why don’t you go home?” I say.

“No, there isn’t one anymore,” she answered.

“Look, Star,” I’ll label her ‘ Star,’ “you need to eat something. Go home. Better yet, I get you a room here, how’s that?”

“You don’t understand,” she straightened up as if she was some brainy college professor. “I need to rest and I don’t wish to be alone.” I think to myself she’s acting for Christ sake.

“Look, you don’t even know me Star.”

“…. do you know me?” She asked and stared at me.

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t “, I saw a touch of glee come into her eyes.

“I heard you speak to the bartender. You’re known around here. I can tell you aren’t a bad sort.”

“Listen Star, I ain’t looking for….”

“Please don’t say it,” she interrupted, “sex, I mean. I’m older than you, I can see that.” She sipped her drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and continued. “I’m drunk, you already know that. You’re handsome, you know that too,” she sighed….”I won an Oscar, been nominated more than once….”

“I know….”, I cut her off, looked at my watch.

“You have to be somewhere?”

I did want to get back with Margo, that money sitting in the safe upstairs, had to go to work.

Then I heard….”Please….”. It came from her in such a despairing way; most likely acting again.

“Ah geez, come on Star.” I stepped away…. hitting the elevator button…. She got closer. I caught her perfume.

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When we enter my suite she dropped the bag and just went into the first bathroom…. Came out…. Found the bedroom, slipped out of her high-heels…. While I stood in the bedroom door; stood in the dim light…. watching as she nestled under the bed covers…. some of that blonde hair of her’s sticking out and nothing else.

“Geez….”, all I did was walk over to the drapes , pulled the cord drawing them together some, and headed out.

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When I got to the club, it’s a little after eight. Place got some after-five executive types about, along with women who finished their work-outs after work; changed into other clothes of course for a fun evening I guess. Just lots of women who didn’t want to go home to empty apartments.

Soon as I got twenty feet into the club I picked up on the fellas, Mob guys. You know the type. There were two of them at the bar. They picked up on me too. Funny how street-guys can do that.

One waved me over….”Margo’s upstairs,” he motioned with his chin….”think you better go up.”

“Anything wrong….?” I stared into them.

“Yeah, not wit’ you though. Relax. Go up. You’ll see.”

(To be continued)

By: George Martorano
Copyright: 12973
8/15/2015