Headwind by Christopher Hudson

Author:Christopher Hudson [Hudson, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aerial Productions
Published: 2024-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

21

Sporting a theme of mid twentieth-century train travel, the Vegas Station was one of the newest casinos on the strip. Approaching from the strip, the façade resembled Grand Central Station in New York, complete with sculptures of Minerva, Hercules, and Mercury. Lou pulled into the lobby area and a valet, dressed as a porter, was immediately at the door.

Lou got out and handed the boy five dollars. “Park it somewhere close, okay.”

“Yes, sir.” He opened the rear door for Mickey.

Another valet opened the doors for Tony and Gina. “Are you staying, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Can I help you with your luggage?”

“I don’t have any.”

The boy was unfazed. “What about the lady?”

“She doesn’t have any either.”

“Okay. The front desk is just inside.”

Gina, Mickey and Lou followed Tony inside the huge lobby. It was created in the style of the main concourse of Grand Central Station, albeit to a smaller scale, it still conveyed the cavernous space of the original. Below a vaulted ceiling painted as an evening sky, was the front desk, which resembled the main information booth of the original, including the giant four-faced clock. The exterior wall even featured huge, arched Tiffany glass windows.

Behind the desk, a woman, dressed in a white shirt and bowtie, black coat, and green eyeshade looked up from her computer screen and scanned the group as they approached. She appeared slightly surprised when Tony stepped up to the desk, but then, this is Vegas, she thought. “Can I help you?”

“A suite for Boccaccio.”

“Just a moment, sir.” She looked back down at a computer screen and started banging the keyboard while Tony drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently.

“Could you spell that, sir?”

Tony stopped drumming his fingers and spelled his name slowly and loudly, like he was talking to the village idiot.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t see a reservation here.”

“Of course not ... I didn’t make one.”

“Then we might have a problem, sir,” the woman said nervously. “All the suites are occupied.”

“Listen, lady, you call your manager and tell him Mr. Boccaccio is here and you’ll be surprised how fast a a suite opens up.” Tony said matter-of-factly.

The woman picked up the phone and punched a number. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but there is a Mr. Boccaccio here and he is looking for a suite and I’m showing that all the suites are booked.” After a few seconds, she said, “Yes, sir,” and put down the phone. “I’m so sorry Mr. Boccaccio, I didn’t realize that a penthouse suite had been vacated this morning.” The woman started tapping the keyboard.

Tony turned to Lou. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“You know the manager here?” said Lou.

“Oh, yeah, I know him.

“Tony!” Boomed a voice from behind them.

They all turned and a tall man, with a handsome, tanned face, dark wavy hair, and dressed in a tailored, pin-stripped suit approached from across the main concourse. “So good to see you again.” His voice dripped with a mellow southern accent.

Alton Smith was the general manager of the Vegas Station. He had begun his career in an Atlantic City casino, where he had gotten to know Tony well.

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