Pumpking

Issue 9

"How hot?" Bang glanced up from her brewing.

"Who's hot?" Ling from the kitchen leaned over and joined the conversation.

I related what had happened and his Adonis-like figure.

"And you didn't say anything back to him?" Ling grumbled in Mandarin.

"What should I have said back? 'oh, you make my knees go weak, Mr Hot?'"

"I saw in a movie once, you are supposed to say 'I'm here to clean the pool,'" Chou said.

We laughed for a few minutes until it seemed like something that might have happened to someone else.

"Oh yeah, there's a guest at the front counter who wants to tip you, Dion," Bang mumbled, she'd moved on to a jelly cup. She'd just come from a cursory dust of the lobby.

"A tip?"

"Yeah. Really liked the way you tucked the bed sheets, I guess."

Huh.

I frowned, heading toward the front counter.

The ground floor was home to the two kitchens, including the dining room and the room-service kitchen, although the room service area was only accessible by the staff. We wore a small pass-card while on duty to get through all the restricted areas and corridors. It was one of the best secured five-star hotels in Capita city because of the heavy doors and personalized cards.

From the service corridor I made a left, past the guest's dining room toilets and then into the wide faux marble interior of the hotel itself. At twelve, the lobby was busy with drunk patrons returning from the city, and working girls heading to guest's rooms for private dance sessions.

I swung in through the staff entrance to the lobby desk and Lizzy, the manager on duty pointed at a man in one of the waiting chairs.

"One of yours, I think. Wants to give you a present for good services?"

"I don't recognise him," And I didn't. He was late forties with black hair thinning on top. His clothing was too heavy for this time of year, even at night. Thick black coat. His shoes were worn and old, good quality but not the sort that most of the other guests would wear.

Maybe he was senile. Still, if he'd asked for me by name, I'd have to deal with him.

I was halfway across the lobby when someone grabbed me by the waist and yanked me behind one of the thick decorative pillars.

It was a blur of motion for me. Something felt like it dropped on me from the ceiling; a dark shape caught me defenceless and suddenly my feet had left the ground. He was strong; a thick arm around my waist felt like pure iron.

I don't know if I made a noise, but I might have squeaked.

"Don't move or make a sound if you want to live," For some reason, I knew who was speaking. Ash Whisper.