VIP Status

“Holy shit Martin! This place is ridiculous.” Andi’s jaw practically hit the floor when he opened the door to his suite.

“You have this all to yourself?” said Sophie in shock.

“I was supposed to be sharing it with a friend,” he said. “But Frank had to back out at the last minute. Even so, this is silly. I’ve tried all four beds, just for kicks.”

He’d brought the pair to his room to have a private conversation with Sophie and Andi. He needed them to understand that they could ruin his career if they shared the information they had.

He would also need to have a talk with Aanya at some point. She seemed pretty set on making his life difficult. She might be putting up posters of his bibliography just to ruin him.

Andi was receptive to his concerns, but Sophie was being weird ever since she found out he had authored her favourite books. The previously intelligent and insightful woman he’d discussed the merits of novels with had been replaced by a giggling fangirl.

“I said before that we could trade for a night if you two wanted to use it,” said Martin. “It’s being wasted on me.

The bubbling giddiness that poured out of Sophie produced an indecipherable stream of delight. She scampered throughout the rooms, imagining what might be done in them.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” said Andi. “It’s kind of great. She tries to keep this side of her hidden. It’s not how respectable musicians behave, you know.”

“It’s going to be devastating when she recognizes that I’m just an ordinary guy and not author Jesus. Seriously, can you two keep a secret?”

“You’ll never meet anyone more trustworthy than Sophie. She’d be burned at the stake before breaching someone’s trust.”

“And what about you?” Grumbled Martin.

“I’m going to use it to **** you relentlessly,” Andi grinned playfully. “How much do you pay for my personal training services again?”

Martin was not amused. “I won’t be paying you anything if nobody will hire me to write.”

“Point taken,” said Andi. “How about this. You let Sophie have her fangirl moment and not spoil it too bad, and I’ll keep your secret.”

Martin sighed. This is one of the reasons he was a ghost writer. He didn’t know what to do with fans. Part of him didn’t want them. Part of him was afraid of what he’d do with them if he had them.

Sophie returned from the larger of the two bathrooms with a look of shock. “Are those all yours?” she asked.

“Oh, you found the cabinet?” said Martin. “No, they came with the room.”

“Should I ask?” interjected Andi.

“It’s better to see,” replied Martin and led her into the absurd excuse for a bathroom.

It had a shower large enough to hold a square dance in, a jacuzzi designed for entertaining, and the marble floor led out to his private pool. There were cabinets stocked with soaps and lotions, snorkels and flippers, and one stacked top to bottom with new-in-box, sex toys.

“This is what VIP treatment includes, apparently,” said Martin. “It’s a weird offer, but feel free to take anything you want. I don’t think I have much use for them.”

Sophie appeared to short circuit. Too many thoughts and feelings were running around in her head to cope. He long imagined author was real, and he was her girlfriend’s client. His room was like something that belonged in a palace more than a hotel and he’d offered to loan it to her. And he’d a cupboard full of toys she didn’t even know what most were for that he was gifting her. This was like some kind of bizarre dream sequence.

Lost in the strangeness of the experience, she picked up box containing a toy she couldn’t make sense of. She rotated it, trying to work out which way was up.

“It’s a strapless strap on,” said Andi.

“Oh! I see it, now." Sophi said, piecing together how it operated. Then, failing to pay enough attention to what was coming out of her mouth she said, “Me and Martin could spit roast you with this.”