The Last Girls' Weekend Pt. 04

My meeting with my boss on the Friday after Thanksgiving resulted in him telling me that I'm moving to a parallel position as an assistant manager at the resort H [a national hotel chain I work for] has on Miami Beach. I decided it might be a good idea to call the one person I know there, Hugh Clark, a fellow assistant manager, to get the lay of the land. I was told he was working days, 8am to 4pm, Monday through Fridays. It was after 4pm on Friday. I left him a message to call me.

Monday morning he called my cell. He was friendly but wary. I guess he was worried that I was going to ask for another favor that might get us both fired. After hellos, Hugh asked, "How are things with your..... How are things?"

"OK, we're divorcing. I'm evidently moving to Miami Beach."

"Yeah, my manager just told me. We can use another assistant manager here. We're short at least one but they told us we weren't getting anyone. Now we are. He said you'd be here on January 1st. Why are you moving?"

"Long story. I'll tell you when I see you. I owe you a dinner so you can hear all the sordid details then. I wasn't really given a choice. I can stay where I am but my manager made it clear corporate wanted me out of here. It would be the end of my career. He basically told me that they wanted me at your Miami Beach resort. He framed it as a new start for me. But the bottom line is I accept the job on Miami Beach or I'm done."

"They find out about the live feed and the recorded video I gave you?"

"Not that I know of. I'm calling to ask about your manager. What sort of a guy is he?" Hugh hesitated, so I said, "What you tell me goes no further. I just want a head start on what I'm dealing with."

Hugh replied, "Mr. Beck. And he wants everyone to call him 'Mr. Beck' or 'Sir'. He supposed to work 8am to 4, Monday through Friday, but he doesn't usually get in until after nine. Sometimes he makes it until 4pm."

"He wants to see me at 9:30am on the Friday before the Monday I start. New Year's Day. He won't be in on the 1st."

"I work the same hours as him. I'm not sure what he does, he almost never comes out of his office. When he does, it's to leave for a couple of hours. I really don't want you to repeat what I'm going to tell you. The guy's petty and vengeful. I don't need to be on his bad side. I'm not sure anyone's on his good side but I don't want this getting back to him. OK?"

"OK."

"Beck considers himself more of a Christian than Jesus. He's always criticizing others for their moral lapses. The world, helped along by his immoral and lazy employees whom he's always complaining about, is going straight to hell.

"He has some moral lapses himself but doesn't seem to want to shine his moral spotlight on himself. When he and I meet, I listen but don't engage with him. I don't challenge him about anything he says. I just let him rage until I can turn our meeting back to hotel business. I suggest you do the same. Just listen and when you can, ask about whatever hotel stuff you're supposed to be talking about."

"What moral lapses?"

"It's just gossip really. If I could prove anything, I'd take it to corporate. And I'd need a lot of proof to convince corporate to act. H hotel managers have their own little fiefdom. Corporate makes suggestions about how to run their hotels but the manager is on the ground and is mostly given free rein to do as he or she wants. Beck uses his free rein to do exactly what corporate tells him to do. Always. They love him."

"What's the gossip?"

"He's in his fifties, married with two kids who have their own families. He has an eye for the ladies. He finds vulnerable women employees and uses his position to sleep with them. Some of these women don't have the proper documentation to be working. He tells them he'll protect them. Some he promises promotions to. Some he gets hired, despite their having been rejected by HR, and makes sure they know they owe him. He only does this for good looking women who he believes will be grateful he gave them a job. He tells them he'll help with their career or keep them safe. His help is having them share a hotel room with him for the night. Or maybe more than one night. If they don't play along, they get a visit from immigration or don't get the promotion or get fired.

"I haven't been able to catch him. He never takes them here. Always at another hotel. This stuff is very hard to prove. One woman complained that he told her he'd promote her if she slept with him. He was evidently very direct about it. She wouldn't sleep with him and didn't get the promotion.

"Corporate investigated and concluded she was making it all up. Beck told them she expected a promotion and when he didn't give it to her, she made up the story to get back at him. He said her work didn't support promotion. They believed him over her. They're always going to believe him unless there's a flood of women or I can document his behavior. The guy's a creep but I haven't been able to get the goods on him. I'd love to get him out of here.

"The good news is that after your meeting with him, you'll never see him again. I work his hours so he has me do stuff that he really should be doing himself. I don't think he ever talks directly with any of the other assistant managers. He gives me his marching orders for them. Whatever corporate told him to have us do. Or not do.

"Do you know what shift you'll be working?"

"No. I assume he'll tell me all that when I meet with him."

"He told me this morning. You'll be working nights. Midnight to 8am, Saturday's through Wednesday's. Thursdays and Fridays off. He has no business giving you that shift with your seniority. But it's his call. I don't know who or why they're punishing you but either corporate is or he is.

"Do me a favor and don't tell him I told you your hours. Pretend it's a surprise when you meet with him. In fact, please don't tell him anything I told you about him. Don't even tell him we talked. He'll think I went behind his back. Like I said, he's a vindictive prick."

"I won't tell him anything. Thanks for the info though."

"No problem. Find me after you meet with him. I'll be working. New Year's also. You're scheduled to start Monday the 1st at midnight. You'll have all the New Year's Eve drunks to deal with." He laughed. I thanked him again and we got off.

My last day at the hotel in L [the city in central Florida where I've been working] was Christmas eve. I planned to spend Christmas through New Year's with my parents who live in West Palm Beach, about an hour north of Miami. I packed up my clothes but decided to leave the furniture at my old home. Once I have a new place to live, I'll move the furniture and either rent or sell my old place.

I owed Lt. Markey a dinner too. He had told my manager that I had been truthful with the police when they investigated the death of Cheryl's husband, Roger. We met for dinner at the hotel restaurant on December 23rd. I started by thanking him for telling my manager that I had no blame in Roger's death. That I was in the clear.

He said, "I'm not sure I got the full story there. Actually, I'm sure there's more you didn't tell me. But his brother confessed as part of his plea deal. We got the right man and he's in prison. Another shithead off the streets. So we're good."

"Thanks for doing that. I think he and the hotel big shots are beginning to believe I had nothing to do with any of that. Also, thanks for telling him that Cheryl and I got together only after both our spouses knew our marriages were over. You didn't have to do that. H doesn't like married men who cheat with married women. You're telling him our marriages were already over helped improve my tarnished image."

Markey replied, "From what I could tell, that was true. I know that Cheryl moved out. She left your house in the middle of November. I assume she went back to Miami. She was no longer our problem so I didn't ask Miami PD about her. So you're going to Miami to be with her?"

"No, I'm going to Miami Beach because they gave me no choice. I haven't talked to her since she left but her plan was to move back to Miami. With my ex-wife."

Markey said, "I understand Cheryl's attraction but you should stay away from her. She's scary. She killed the two guys who did the home invasion at your house. But you didn't get the whole story. Let me tell you what you're dealing with in Cheryl. The two guys were coming up the stairs. Your stairs have fifteen steps. One guy was on the seventh step up, the other guy was slightly to his right one step down from him. They both had guns in their hands. Cheryl aimed between them so she got them both with the first shot. Heads and necks. They were probably dead before they hit the ground.

"They fell back down the stairs. Cheryl walked down five steps and shot them again. Then she went back to your bedroom, put the shotgun on your bed, called 911 and got dressed. She left out of your balcony so as not to disturb the crime scene. She waited out front for the cops to arrive. They found her sitting calmly on your porch.

"Understand what she did. She came out of your bedroom and, in probably less than two seconds, got in position at the top of the stairs, aimed perfectly, and got two experienced armed thugs without them firing a shot. Your shotgun has a long barrel and it's not light. She's aiming down the stairs, almost a forty-five degree angle down. The guy one step down was lower than his buddy but she got both. Centered on their heads and necks. A perfect shot.

"If she had left one of them standing she would have had to pump in another round while the guy was shooting at her. She didn't leave either of them standing. One shot, a perfect shot that got them both. Before either of them could get off a round. I wish I had been there to see it. Only in the movies do you see shit like that.

"Maybe one or both were still breathing after her first shot but she must have known they were goners. They fell back down the stairs and were near the bottom of your staircase. She walked down five stairs and made another perfect shot almost straight down. Got both of them again. An insurance shot.

"She was as cool as a cucumber when I talked to her right after I arrived at your home. Like she was talking about the weather. The same with her 911 call. She was so calm about shooting two men, the 911 operator thought it might be a prank call. Also when I interviewed her at the station. As I told you at the time, like it was just another Tuesday to her.

"She killed two guys and didn't bat an eye. Even experienced cops, cops who have been in shoot outs, don't have the calm it took for her to do what she did. Or be so blasé about it afterward.

"She's hot but she's dangerous Mark. Stay away from her." He chuckled. "Unless you're going to a gun battle. Then ask her to go with you. You can wait in the car while she takes care of things." For the rest of the dinner, Markey and I talked mostly football and the Rays prospects for the upcoming season. As we parted after dinner he said, "Stay away from Cheryl. She's nothing but trouble." I nodded.

I spent Christmas through New Year's with my folks. I went to the resort on Friday morning and arrived just before my meeting at 9:30 with my new boss, Beck. He kept me waiting for over forty minutes. When he was finally ready to see me he didn't stand or offer to shake my hand. He just said, "Sit," and pointed to a chair. When I sat, he said, "So they ran you out of L and now I'm stuck with you. Just so you know, we don't tolerate men who cheat on their wives with a married woman. And with a woman whose husband is mysteriously killed when he comes to talk to you about staying away from his wife. H doesn't condone that kind of behavior and I certainly don't either. We consider marriage sacred. I hear about you doing anything like that, you're out of here."

I decided it wasn't worth telling this guy anything so I said nothing. After waiting for a response and getting none, he continued, "Corporate told me I had to give you a room until you find someplace to live. You have two weeks before you have to start paying for the room. I'd really like you out in one week so get started on finding something." He paused to see if I had anything to say. I didn't.

"You'll be working graveyard. Saturdays through Wednesdays. You start on the 1st, this Monday, at midnight. That's all I have for you. If you have any other questions, go and find Hugh Clark. He's the day assistant manager. You should probably try to find him now and introduce yourself. He's your point of contact here. Not me. The next time you'll be in this office is when I fire you. Clark will tell you what to do regarding HR. That's it. You can go." He looked down at his desk and started shuffling papers. I was dismissed so I left.

I thought, "The good news is that Beck must not have known that the married woman I was involved with is a con artist working his hotel. If he knew anything about Cheryl, he'd have thrown that in my face too."

I found Hugh Clark and he walked me through HR. He told me that the current night person, Susan something, would meet me at reception midnight Monday morning. She'll be with me for a few nights to show me the ropes. We agreed to get together for dinner later in the week, after the holidays.

I spent my shift Monday morning accompanying Susan as she did her routine. I had worked graveyard when I first started at H but at a much smaller hotel in northern Florida. There was more to do here, more to check on, but graveyard is pretty slow and boring. We put the hotel bill under the doors of people checking out the next day. But unless there's a guest emergency, or guests come in drunk, there's not much to do until people begin to check out. Lots of drunks on my first night, New Year's Eve. But the resort has a large security staff.

I was off at 8am and got to my hotel room at about 8:20. My opening the door woke Cheryl who had been asleep in my bed. No pajamas. She jumped out of bed and into my arms. A great big hug. I picked her up and hugged her back. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and held on like she would fall off the face of the earth if she let go.

After a while, I sat on the bed. She was still holding on to me for dear life. I asked, "Excuse me. Have we met? Do I know you? How did you get in my room?"

Cheryl said, "Did you really just ask how I got in your room?"

"Stupid question. Sorry."

"I haven't been laid in over a month. Not since I was in your bed. I want to hug you for a bit and then I want to fuck you."

"I haven't seen you for over a month either. Do you think you can just break into my room and demand sexual gratification? I need some romance first. Maybe a few dates. A few kisses. I barely remember you."

Cheryl let me go, got on her knees on the bed, pushed me back and got on top of me. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." Then she kissed me. A long passionate kiss. She got up on her knees and began to unbutton my shirt. "How about we fuck now and date later?" Her plan sounded better than mine. She asked, "Do we need a condom?"

"No."

Afterward, we did it again. I had almost forgotten the goosebumps she gets when she's ready to finish. After that, she was on top of me and asked, "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled to see you. We're together again."

"I wasn't given any choice. They wanted me out of L and wanted me here. I couldn't figure out why. This is their premier resort. I met with the manager here, a guy named Beck, and he, I think, told me why I'm here. They figure I'll fuck up and he'll be able to fire me. I think that's corporate's plan and this guy evidently does everything corporate tells him to do. I'm not sure that I even need to fuck up. I think I was sent here because my former boss wouldn't fire me just because corporate wanted him to. Corporate found someone who would."

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing specific. He was just very rude. Didn't offer to shake my hand, dredged up all the crap about me cheating with a married woman and Roger's death. This guy is supposed to be insufferable but he went out of his way to offend me. And he couldn't have been more offensive. Certainly didn't make me feel welcome. Told me the next time I'll be in his office is when I'm being fired.

"He doesn't seem to know about you though. Or that you and I were together. Just that I fooled around with a married woman."

"You said his name is Beck?"

"Cheryl," I said in my most disapproving voice, warning her off.

Cheryl answered in her most innocent voice, "Just asking."

"I had dinner with Markey before I left. He wanted to talk about you. He said if I ever get in a gunfight, bring you. He's amazed at how you took down those two guys. And were so calm about it afterward."

"I just got lucky." She snuggled a little tighter. It was after 3am. I was tired but we had a lot to catch up on.

"Markey said they were goners after your first shot. You walked down and shot them again. How come?"

"I wanted to make a statement to anyone else who Jimmy might convince to come after you. If they try to mess with you, they'll regret it for the rest of their very, very short lives. No one fucks with you and gets away with it."

"Or come after your money."

"That too. But the money's replaceable. You're not."

"How'd you learn to shoot like that?"

Cheryl sighed, "I want to be open and honest with you when you ask about my past. Honesty is very hard for me. I've always believed being honest is just another weakness people can use against you.

"I also want to lie to you because I'm afraid if I tell you the truth you'll head for the hills. You'll want nothing more to do with me. But I've decided to be truthful and hope you'll understand. Or at least not push me away.

"This was not the first gunfight I was in. I told you my family, the whole family, are criminals. Hard men and hard women. I was nine when my daddy woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to get dressed. Daddy was real good at telling you what to do but not real good at explaining why he wanted you to do it. And, if you knew what was good for you, you didn't ask. He gave me a.38 revolver. I asked for the shotgun and he said my mother was using it. He gave my brother Jerry, a year younger than me, a.22 rifle and had us sit in bushes outside his meth lab. Mommy, Daddy, my brothers and Daddy's two brothers were positioned all around the lab. He told us to shoot anyone we saw who wasn't a blood relative. This wasn't a discussion. It was an order.

"Evidently, he got a warning that a rival gang was going to blow up his lab. They arrived, the shooting started and the lab wasn't blown up. My daddy now had another lab. This sort of thing happened over the years with some frequency. One of the many reasons I wanted out.

"There was another shoot out about a week before my uncle was planning to leave for Charleston. I had to get out of there. My uncle was a pig and a drunk but he was my way out, the way to get away from my family. I went with him. He took me because he thought he could use me to do bigger scams.

"I told you I always grabbed the shotgun when I went hunting with Daddy and my brothers. I was pretty good with it but it was a shorter, two barrel, two trigger, shotgun you had to crack open to empty and load new shells. Yours is longer and heavier with a pump but I got familiar with it while we were waiting for whomever Jimmy was sending to arrive. I really like yours, by the way. Nice balance. Nice concentrated spray."

"Did you kill anyone protecting your father's stuff?"

"Yes. But, like the two guys I shot at your house, these were all bad men. I recognized the two guys from Miami. They were really bad men. Lots of families won't be destroyed by these guys invading their homes. Lots of wives and daughters won't be raped by these creeps." Cheryl climbed on top of me." Too much talking, too little sex." More goosebumps.

I slept in. Cheryl was gone when I woke up. I started to look online for an apartment rental in Miami. It was a holiday, January 1st, so I made appointments online to look at four the following day. I found one that suited me but I can't move in until the fifteenth. I got a moving company to get my stuff. I drove back to L to meet them on Thursday. They boxed up everything Thursday, loaded everything on a truck Friday and stored it for delivery on the fifteenth to my new apartment. I talked to a management company about finding tenants for my place and managing the rental of my house.

I returned to the hotel on Miami Beach Friday night, shortly before my Saturday morning shift started. The assistant manager from the second shift had big news. Mr. Beck, our manager, had resigned that Friday. No one knew why. Hugh Clark, the day assistant manager, is the interim manager taking Beck's place.

I got off at 8am on Saturday morning. Hugh Clark was in Beck's office and, when he saw me, told me we needed to talk. We sat and he offered me coffee. I said, "I heard Beck quit."

"Yeah, 'for health reasons'. Corporate is letting him resign to avoid a scandal. But he was finally caught. Someone sent compromising pictures to corporate HR of him in a hotel room in Miami with one of our employees. Also to his wife apparently. The pictures were evidently pretty explicit. They emailed the pictures yesterday morning with an audio of Beck coercing this woman employee into having sex with him. The employee is threatening to take everything to the press and to sue. I guess corporate decided they couldn't protect him so they forced him to resign. I'm taking over the management responsibilities. Hopefully, they'll make me permanent.

"I called you in to tell you about Beck but also because corporate wanted to talk to me about you. You, my friend, don't have a lot of friends at corporate. You're a blight on the H name. They want to catch you doing something that will get you fired. They told me that you've been spending time with a con artist," he looked at a note pad on his desk, "a Cheryl Addison. Corporate believes you were working with her at the hotel in L, until she returned to Miami last November. They think you'll start working with her here. They want me to catch you doing cons, or at least helping her, and fire you. That's their plan. I have a million things to do and the morons at corporate want to talk about you. They got me so concerned, I called your manager at the hotel in L and also our Miami Beach PD liaison.

"Did you do scams with her in L? Do you plan to do scams with her here?"

"No. She promised not to do anything illegal while she was living with me in L. I'm pretty sure she kept her word. She said the reason she left L was because she couldn't do cons and be with me. She wanted to do cons more than she wanted to be with me."

"I was told she's working in the Miami area. Are you planning to see her here?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make things any easier. I said I talked to your former manager in L. He believes, and tried to convince corporate, that you've done nothing wrong. He and the police in L are sure you weren't working with her there. Just sleeping with her. Her husband's death and the home invasion were not your fault either. I believe you and your manager. I'm not going to set you up and fire you because of some assholes at corporate. I run this place now and we need good people. Your manager in L had nothing but praise for your work."

"Here's how we work here. Probably the same at all our hotels. The restaurants and bars, as you know, are contracted out. The three restaurants, bars and the coffee shop near the front entrance. The owners rent the space from us and we have nothing to do with their internal operations.

"Con artists working their bars is their problem. And the police of course. It only becomes our problem if someone commits a crime in one of our hotel rooms or the common areas. Or if a hotel guest complains about being scammed. We call the police and work with them to catch the culprits. And, if they're doing illegal stuff in our hotel, we'll catch them.

"I asked our police contact about Addison. He says she works the bars along the beach with a partner. It was a male, now it's a female. They don't use our hotel rooms to extort or blackmail guests like some of them do. But they're at the bars, along with the swimming pools and beach, looking to meet marks. It's not illegal to meet guys. It's not illegal to sleep with guys in our hotel rooms. The hotel isn't responsible if our male guests want to make fools of themselves.

"Addison evidently isn't doing that anyway. She leaves that up to her partner," He looked back at his notes, "an Abigail Joiner. Your wife?"

"My ex-wife. I told you I had a sordid story to tell you over dinner."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it anymore. You're sleeping with one and were married to the other. No wonder corporate thinks you're working with them. The point of this is I don't care what these women do unless they become a problem for me. If they're caught doing something illegal here, they become a problem for you. And then it becomes a problem for me.

"It looks like Addison never enters the hotel. Except to go to your room." He paused, looked at me, wanting me to know they had eyes on Cheryl. He continued, "I don't care what she does in the bars. That's the bars' problem. The two of them aren't guests so they're not supposed to be at our swimming pools. I don't care about that either. Unless or until they do something illegal. The best thing is to keep them out of our hotel. If they're going to get arrested, let them do it at someone else's hotel. Please convey that to the two women."

"I plan to have that talk with Cheryl. I don't know what she'll say but I'll let you know. You're hoping they'll make you permanent manager. If corporate wants me fired, won't they be pissed that you haven't fired me?"

"I'll tell them we haven't found that you did anything to get fired for. Yet. We're looking, we're trying hard to find something, anything, on you. Our Miami Beach PD liaison will back me up. I'll spin it that if I fire you without cause, they'll get a lawsuit and bad press. They don't want that. It'll look like I'm protecting the hotel.

"Let's talk about the hotel. I'm doing two jobs so I'll be working seven days a week until I can hire someone. I'll hire or promote someone quickly. When I do, I'll take you off graveyard. I'm not sure what shift or days you'll be working. I just haven't had time to think about shuffling schedules yet. So bear with me a little while longer. We'll get you moved. Do you have anything else?" I congratulated him on the promotion and told him I hope they make it permanent.

I went to my hotel room and woke Cheryl when I opened the door. I hadn't seen her or talked to her since the previous Monday. She now has black hair, no longer a blonde. I liked her as a blonde. I like her with black hair. She looked exhausted and said, "Hurry, get in bed and give me a hug. I really missed you. But I need some sleep. Can we fuck and talk later?"

"OK."

Cheryl woke me at about 3pm by stroking my dick. She looked much better. We did our thing. Nice leisurely sex with a goose bump ending. After, she was lying on top of me with her head on my chest. "Why the black hair?"

"Do you like it? I'm thinking about keeping it. At least for a while. I've always been a blonde, with a couple of exceptions when I was on the run. But I think it looks nice like this. What do you think?"

"I like it either way. But why?"

"I need to tell you a story. It's just a story. All a fiction. You know none of the people involved but hear me out. OK?" I nodded. "Once upon a time there was this mean hotel manager who was very nasty to a friend of the main character in this story. Let's call the main character C. C is pretty, has OK tits, a nice ass..." Cheryl stopped, looked up at me and said, "A nice ass, not a fat ass." She waited to see if I would contradict her. I had my hands on her butt so I gave her butt cheeks a friendly squeeze. She continued, "C also has a very thick West Virginia accent. She dropped out of high school in the tenth grade. C asked around about this bad man and found out that he..... coerced vulnerable women in his employ to sleep with him. C decided to do something about it.

"The bad hotel manager came to work last Tuesday morning to find C crying in the parking lot. He asked her what was wrong. She told him that she just applied for a job and wasn't hired. Her husband is emotionally very abusive, she's worried he'll become physically abusive too. If she goes home without a job she doesn't know what he'll do."

Cheryl jumped off me, took off the wedding ring she was wearing, put it in her handbag, got back on top of me and continued, "He told C, 'Of course I can help. Come with me and you'll get the job. I run the place.' He got C a job as a housekeeper, the job she applied for earlier and didn't get. She started work the very next day. She also got an invitation to dinner by the hotel manager for after she got off work. 'Just to see how the job was going.'

"Now C had worked lots of housekeeping jobs when she was a teenager. She'd get a job, rob whatever she found in the rooms she was supposed to clean and skedaddle. This time she actually cleaned." She looked up at me again, "It's very hard work and you don't pay enough. All your housekeeping people deserve a raise." I agreed.

"Anyway, over dinner at a nice restaurant in Miami, one that would impress our high school dropout from West Virginia, the hotel manager asked C what she told her husband about where she was tonight. C said she told her husband she had to work a double shift. He wouldn't understand that the dinner was just a nice boss taking an interest in and trying to help his employee. Nothing wrong with what they're doing. Even though it's all innocent she just doesn't think her husband would be OK with it. 'So,' the bad man said, 'the last thing you'd want your husband to know is where you really are. Out on a date with me.'

"C became very alarmed, 'It's...... not a date. You won't tell him that will you? He'll kill me.'

"Her boss asked if her husband would be even more upset if she also lost her job. C was terrified now, too terrified even to speak. Her boss told her that he's doing all these favors for her. He got her a job, took her to a nice restaurant, bought her dinner. What will she do for him so he won't tell her husband she's out on a date? And also that she's been fired. C had no ideas about what she can do for him so the bad man suggested that they get a hotel room. C can show him how much she appreciates him. 'You told your husband you're working a shift tonight so he won't expect you home until after midnight. Right?'

"They got a hotel room in Miami. C got him a drink from the mini bar, put something in the drink so the bad man would get a good night's sleep. C called her friend. Let's call her friend A. A arrived in a black wig, took off all her clothes and together they took the bad manager's clothes off too. They took a lot of pictures of A, wearing her black wig, with the bad manager. The bad manager's face was clear in all the pictures but A's face was always hidden or turned away. They made sure that the bad man looked like he was enjoying himself in all the pictures."

"He was unconscious. How'd you make it look like he was participating?"

"The best picture was of him sitting on the side of the bed, legs on the floor. A was sitting behind him, propping him up, and reaching around holding his dick like she's jerking him off. His head is tilted back obscuring A's face. His eyes are closed but it looks like they're closed because of the pleasure he's experiencing. It's clearly him in the picture.

"One of the pictures included C's hotel ID with the bad man clearly in the background. C had her thumb over her picture on the ID. Just a name, not C's real name, and her black hair was visible. That's why A was wearing a black wig. If anyone checks they'll find that a woman with that name and with black hair was a housekeeper at your hotel."

Cheryl stopped her story and said, "You understand it was A in all the pictures. C never took off her clothes. She took the pictures with her phone, she wasn't in them."

I nodded but had a question, "I understand that you... that C didn't use her real name but you had your picture taken for the ID. Maybe Beck didn't know it was you but the cops will. Plus you would have had to give them some ID to get the job. Won't the cops come after you?

"C really did apply for the job and was turned down just before the bad manager found her in the parking lot crying. She didn't get the job because the only identification she had was a social security card. No driver's license or anything else. The address she gave as her home address is an extended stay motel in Miami. C acted sketchy enough so they wouldn't give her a job. That was the point. She needed the bad manager to help her. The manager took her back inside and told them he didn't want any excuses. Just give C the job. They did.

"They take a picture for the hotel ID badge that housekeeping has to wear at all times. They keep a copy in the employee's personnel file. The picture they took of C was replaced with a picture of Minnie Mouse for the file. What's in her file is a copy of the social security card and an address at a Miami motel. That's it." Cheryl looked up at me, "Please don't ask. Let's just say C has a lot of friends who work here."

"The cops may figure out it's C but they don't have any proof. Even if they have the people in HR who hired C or have other housekeepers try to identify her, C looks, walks and talks very differently from the West Virginia girl who got the job in housekeeping.

"I probably should change my hair back to blonde. Just to be safe. But I like the black hair."

Cheryl continued, "C and A left with their pictures. The bad man got a good night's sleep. C created a fake email account with the same name she used to get the job at your hotel. She got the corporate email for your hotel's HR from H's website and emailed the pictures from the fake account. C also included a digital recording of the bad manager threatening C to get her to have sex with him. She told them she's going to go to the press and file a lawsuit. There's no denying it's the bad manager in the pictures, that it's his voice on the recording threatening C and that the woman's ID shows she worked at his hotel. A job the manager forced his HR to give her. C also emailed the pictures to the bad manager's wife. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

"You actually worked as a housekeeper?"

"Not me. The girl in the story, C did. For a day. Giving the guy something to get him to take a nap without his knowledge is assault, a felony. I would never do that." Cheryl looked offended that I would think it's her in the story. That she would do anything like that.

"So you dyed your hair. Why not a wig?"

Cheryl got up and looked at her hair in the mirror. She fluffed it, trying to decide, and got back into bed. "You don't like the black hair? I'll change it back."

"It's fine. I like it. Either way. What's your real hair color? Your, um..... muff is light brown so you're real hair color could be almost anything."

"I don't have a real hair color. There's nothing real about me anymore. I'm a self-construct. I was blonde as a kid. But that kid no longer exists."

"Anyway, a wig is too hot and too uncomfortable to wear all day. C wasn't going to clean rooms wearing a wig. C changed her hair color because C didn't know if the cops gave him a picture of her. C has a couple of your security guards on the pay.... a couple of security guards here are C's friends. C asked if they've seen pictures of her. Something the cops would have distributed. They said they haven't. Doesn't mean the manager hasn't seen C's picture. Change of hair color, do the eyebrows differently, suck in her cheeks some, contacts that change C's eye color and C won't look like any picture he saw. He spent all his time looking at C's boobs and ass anyway."

"That's not going to fool the cops. He coerced this C but she assaulted him. Won't the cops want to talk to C? And to A?"

"The bad manager didn't go to the cops. What's he going to tell them? He forced an employee to come with him to a hotel room to have sex. And she drugged him and took incriminating photos. He has enough problems with his job and wife without involving the cops. Cops mean press."

"How do you know that he didn't go to the cops?"

"Would you? Besides, C would have heard. C has some friends on the Miami and Miami Beach PDs. If he decides to go after them, they left no fingerprints in the hotel room. The hotel he took C to isn't the sort to have cameras. Hotel rooms are filthy so any DNA C or A left will be mixed with the DNA of hundreds of others. He probably woke up about 3am and went home. The shitstorm didn't start until after C sent her email about 10am. By the time he could go to the cops, the room would have been cleaned. Most or all of what he took to get some sleep would be out of his system.

"C's only real vulnerability is they could do a voice comparison of C's voice and the digital recording of her getting threatened at dinner. Nothing C could do about that. The recording was the coup de grace. C isn't worried they'll go to the police. The last thing the hotel wants is a police investigation. Not one involving their married hotel manager, claiming he was drugged, butt naked in a hotel room with a naked female employee he coerced into having sex with him. Imagine the press coverage. No one wants the cops involved.

"Why'd C go to all this trouble? It must have cost her more than a couple of bucks."

"I told you before. People are not allowed to fuck with you. And he's a bad man. Also, he had cash on him. He's done this enough to know not to use credit cards. C took the cash. It didn't cover the costs but that's OK. The hotel will come up with some money to keep C from going public with the photos and recording. C hasn't decided how much she wants yet."

"Although this has nothing to do with your story, Beck resigned Friday."

"Resigned and not fired? They didn't want a scandal. What was the reason they gave?"

"Health problems."

"Good. That story is locked in. No investigation. No cops. No one will be looking for C and A. Too bad about your former boss. Such a nice guy. That's good for you isn't it? A new manager."

"That depends on you actually. I was grabbed by the guy who's replacing Beck. He's someone I know. He helped me get proof that Abbie was here with Roger last August. I think he's a straight shooter. He knows about you and Abbie and my connection to you both. Corporate believes I'm working cons with the woman I'm sleeping with and with my ex-wife. They want him to catch me and fire me. If they want to try to catch me at something, they have to catch you and Abbie first.

"Without telling me directly, he made it clear that hotel security and the police are going to keep an eye on us. He knows you use the bars and the swimming pools here to find marks. The bars aren't ours, they're outsourced. Not his problem. He doesn't care, he says, about the swimming pools. He just doesn't want my girlfriend and my ex-wife operating in his hotel. Doing anything illegal in his hotel rooms.

Cheryl popped her head up and looked at me, a big bright smile, and asked, "I'm your girlfriend?"

"Well, you introduced me as your boyfriend to the guy you picked up in the bar at my hotel in L."

"That was to get rid of him. It worked. I also liked telling people you're my boyfriend. But I'm your girlfriend?"

Seriously, the new guy knows about you. We're all being watched. Tell me what you want to do."

"I wanna be your girlfriend." Cheryl gave me a big kiss on the cheek and a big hug. Snuggled closer.

"OK, you're my girlfriend. We're going steady. We'll go to the prom together. Unless Betty Sue wants to go with me." She had put her head, turned sideways, back on my chest so she didn't see me roll my eyes.

Cheryl asked, "Did you just roll your eyes?"

"No, of course not."

"Stop making fun of me. You are my first real boyfriend. And who's this Betty Sue. Does she work here? What's her last name?"

"Didn't you watch old movies on TV when you were a kid?"

Cheryl looked up at me like I just landed from Mars and said, "No. Not unless they left the TV on in a house I was robbing."

I said, "I'm worried about the scrutiny I'm bringing on you. I'm worried that Abbie is new to this and might get caught doing something illegal. I'm worried that you might get caught because of the eyes on you. I'm worried that you might get arrested. And I'm worried I'll lose my job."

"Here's the thing. I don't want to get you in trouble. But this resort is important to us. We work other places, but this place has been good to me. I spent years finding friends here and spent a lot of money keeping those friends.

"We don't do much here. We go to the bars. The only pool we go to is the adult pool. That's where the men without families are. Abbie likes to sunbathe topless anyway. Abbie spends the night here sometimes with the mark. And Abbie accepts cash from marks in the hotel rooms. That's pretty much the extent of what we do on resort property.

"There's nothing illegal about meeting men and staying with them in their rooms. The only problem is when we take cash from a mark. That has to be done in person. No checks or credit cards. It's an all cash business. Abbie mostly gets cash in hotel rooms. She knows to be very careful because that's when we're most exposed."

"Roger told Abbie a story about a fictional sick wife he had cared for and that he needed money to pay bills. All lies. Isn't that what makes it illegal?"

"It's not illegal to lie to people. Otherwise, we'd all be in jail. If a girl asks her sugar daddy to give her money to get a boob job but she plans to use the money for a vacation in Cancun, has she done anything illegal? Not yet. She's just lying about what she intends to do with his money. If he gives her the money for the boob job and she uses it to vacation in Cancun, has she broken the law? Is it criminal or civil or both? That's essentially what we do. Ask for money for one thing and use the money for something else.

"The point is, we're not doing much on hotel property and we're very careful. I thoroughly research the men I allow Abbie to become involved with. Tell your new boss that I won't embarrass him. We'll figure out places to take the cash other than his hotel rooms. There's no reason to stop working here. If we stop taking cash at the resort, we're not doing anything illegal here.

"I don't want you just to stop working here. I want you to give it up entirely. Come out from the dark side. Give up your life of crime. That way, no one gets in trouble. Abbie can always go home, get her job back with her father, marry some nice guy and cheat on him too. You don't need to worry about her."

Cheryl didn't say anything for a long time. I heard her breathing evenly and wondered if she'd fallen asleep. Eventually, she sighed and said, "You're fond of me because of who I am. This is who I am. I told you I'm a self-construct. That construct is lying on top of you. You're letting her because she made herself into someone you want on top of you.

"If I gave up cons, what would I do? Who would I be? A housewife? Get a job in a bank? Someone's secretary? That's fine for those who are. They're probably all wonderful, interesting people. It's just not me. You wouldn't want to know me if I was a housewife. I wouldn't want to know me either. Talk about a fish out of water. If I gave up the life, it wouldn't be me any longer. You'd be stuck with someone else. And you'd get tired of her real fast.

"I'm me because of my background and history. And what I do. I've changed over the years. I used to love conning people face to face. Watch their eyes as I lay out the con and get them to bite. I don't do that anymore. I don't do it because, honestly, it's no longer fun. So I stick with research, planning and giving Abbie direction. Roger before her. I enjoy watching my planning work out. And the money."

She looked up at me, "Your manager was a one off. I didn't think Abbie was ready, this was a little too complicated a scam for her, so I did it myself. With her help."

"I've also changed since I met you. I told you all my relationships have been business relationships. All have been dishonest to one degree or another. Not with you. I don't know why but I want something honest with you. You really are my first boyfriend. I can't explain it. Maybe I'm getting old. Or soft. Or stupid."

I said, "We can't be together unless you stop."

Cheryl got up on her knees, straddling me, and said, "I'm your girlfriend for five minutes and you're already giving me ultimatums. I'm honest with you, tell you my feelings, and you use that against me. You think you can tell me what to do because of my feelings for you. My mistake. I thought you were different. You're using my honesty against me. Just like everyone else would. I guess our relationship has just been a business one after all. Use what you can to get an advantage."

Cheryl got up off the bed, gathered her clothes and started to dress. Not angry but resigned or disappointed, she said, "You couldn't just let me be. This is who I am. I'm a con artist. I'm a con artist because that's who I want to be. Maybe someday I'll no longer want to do scams. Then I'll give it up. But that'll be my choice and not because you forced me."

I said, "I'm not using anything against you. I'm not trying to control you. I just don't see how we can make this work if you keep doing what you're doing."

"We could have continued as we have been. But that's not good enough for you. You want me to change, to be something I'm not. You don't understand how miserable I'd be. And how miserable I'd make you."

"You're smart, good looking and educated. You can do anything you want."

"Let's see. What do I want to be when I grow up? I know, I'll become a preacher. Pass the collection plate around to raise money for a new church or something. Plenty of works I'd need money for.

"I had a cousin who was a traveling preacher. This was when I was still at home. Tent revivals and all that. He was doing really well. Lots of money in that. Then he disappeared. His father, one of my uncles, went to look for him. Evidently, one of his congregants didn't like the special counseling he was giving the congregant's wife. Hard work making a living out of explaining the bible to people who can just pick it up and read it themselves. I'm sure he was just unwinding from all that hard work with the guy's wife. He's probably in a shallow grave somewhere. So's the husband. I'm not sure I'd make a good preacher. I'm not that good at swindling people.

"I could become a politician. They raise money full time deceiving people, making promises they won't keep. Big money in that. Would you vote for me? Donate to my campaign? Or is politics too much like grifting? No real change there from what I'm doing now. It's legal though. Nah, I wouldn't make a good politician. I'm not that good at swindling people.

"Maybe a career in fundraising. I think I'd be pretty good at that. Maybe I can raise funds for the truly needy. That's what I'll do. Tell your new manager that Abbie and I are no longer doing cons. We're just helping people in need and we're only using his hotel to meet donors. Maybe we can start with a fundraiser to help with the medical costs for poor Abbie's sick mom. Or is it her sister? Would you like to give a donation? Sorry, no credit cards or checks. We only accept cash."

Abbie finished dressing, picked up her pocketbook and said, "I thought we had something special. I misjudged the situation. That's fatal for someone who does what I do. It won't happen again. See you around."

Abbie opened the door to leave. I said, "See ya."