Hotel Dusk: Room 215 - Act I, Scene IV
Title: Hotel Dusk: Room 215
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): In this chapter... Stevie/Xabi, hints of Agger/Finnan
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 4
Word Count: 1,534
Summary: Steven receives an assignment.
A door opened behind him and footsteps echoed in the silent hallway as a man stepped out from the room. Steven heard the door closing but couldn’t care less. The mysterious Mr Mikel Torres and his chain continued to trouble him. He suddenly remembered seeing Mikel’s room number. 213. He looked down the hall and at the door of room 213. We need to talk. But first, where was the blasted package?
“Hey, mate, you all right?”
Stevie turned around to face the man who just came out of room 216. He was a tall guy with black curly hair and a dark, dangerous aura. He looked pretty concerned that Stevie was just standing there with his head against the door.
“Fine. Thanks.”
The other man nodded and was about to walk away when he stopped and looked back at Steven.
“You… just came up from the front desk, did you?”
“That’s right. Any problem?”
“No. No… Did you… happen to see anyone checking in?”
What an odd question, Stevie thought. “Yes.” Is this guy expecting someone? Torres?
“What’d he look like? Which room is he in?”
“Young. Gold-streaked brown hair. Freckles all over his face. Why you asking?” He held off answering the question about the room, just in case Torres valued his privacy as much as Stevie did his. “Expecting someone?”
The guest from 216 shook his head after listening to Stevie’s description of Torres. He frowned and looked extremely worried that he missed catching the first question. “Yes, but not the one that you described. Thanks anyway, pal.” He started to walk away but Stevie wasn’t going to let him. Leave no stone unturned. Especially in a place where everything was starting to sound and look very suspicious.
“Who’re you waiting for?”
The man looked at Stevie cautiously. “None of your business, mate.” He gave Stevie a ‘enough questions’ look.
“Hey, you’re the one who started asking questions first.” Steven retorted. “I’m just curious now. Maybe I can help keep a lookout for your friend.”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips together and considered Stevie’s offer. “Very well. His name’s Andriy Shevchenko. Brown hair, not very tall man. If you see him, tell him Michael Ballack is waiting for him in 216.”
Michael waited to see if Stevie had anything else to say when Dagger chose this time to make his appearance.
“Yo, Stevie!” The bellboy looked from Steven to Michael, and then realising he must have interrupted something, started to apologise profusely. “Aw crap. My bad. Sorry, sorry.”
Stevie ignored the former pickpocket and nodded to Michael. “Will do.” He said, a belated response to Ballack’s earlier request. The dark man nodded back and returned to his room. Stevie watched his back as he disappeared behind the door. Is it just me getting too paranoid or does Michael Ballack sound kinda familiar? He decided it was both and sought to get to the bottom of things somehow by tonight.
“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to interrupt ya. What were you chatting about anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Aw, c’mon. Let me in on a little bit of your secrets, please?” He tried to use a pleading puppy-eye tactic and succeeded - though not because Steven turned soft at the sight of it, but because he couldn’t stand that look on Dagger’s face for another second.
“He was looking for an Andriy Shevchenko.”
“Shevchenko, huh? Hmm…” Dagger rested his chin on his fingers and wrinkled his brows.
“You recognise the name?” Stevie was hoping Daniel’s information might help him understand why Ballack was waiting for this guy.
“Nope. But I’ll tell you if I do.” He said, and Stevie wanted to knock that cheeky smile off his face.
“You’re crap, Dagger.” He murmured, then said aloud, “You looking for me?”
“Yeah.” Daniel said, looking both apologetic and sheepish. “Yea, I’m sorry for delivering the wrong package, ya? One bloody helluva mistake. I’ll go fetch yours from the other guy, if you want.”
Well, at least the youngster had the courtesy to come apologise. Dagger’s changed quite a bit, he thought. “Forget it. He’s sending it over himself.”
“Wow, that’s great!” No doubt Daniel was just glad he didn’t have to do the extra work.
“By the way, did you figure it out on your own that you delivered the wrong package or did someone tell you?”
“Finna did.”
“You two close?” Steven had meant for it to sound like a casual question. After all, he would expect Dagger and Finna to be best buddies considering both of them worked and lived in the hotel for three years. So he was surprised when his question brought a blush to Daniel’s cheeks.
“N-n-no…” The bellboy muttered something else but Stevie couldn’t catch it. “I-I gotta go.” And he was off before Stevie could stop him. Reckoning that Dagger’s problems were probably not worth his attention, he went into his room. Yanking his suitcase open, he pulled out a shabby looking notepad and started scribbling notes. He hadn’t done this in a while - not since departing the force - but the excitement of investigating something was coming back to him as he jotted down names, notes and his suspicions.
Just after he was done with Michael Ballack and Andriy Shevchenko, there was a knock on the door. He answered it and there stood a man with a box beside his feet.
“Um… Steven Gerrard?”
“The one and only.” Not exactly since there was another ‘Steven Gerrard’ here six months ago. “Are you the guy who called the front desk earlier? About the packages?”
“Yes, that’s me. Harry Kewell, I’m staying in room 211.” He picked up the box by his feet and handed it to Stevie. “Yours. Could I have mine back?”
Steven nodded and went to fetch Harry’s box. When he gave it to the man, Harry appeared very relieved on seeing the tape, but then realised the package had been opened. “You… opened it?”
“Well, yea, how else would I have realised it was the wrong one?”
“Oh…” Harry looked very troubled indeed. “Did you… Did you listen to it?”
“No.” And then he thought he might as well ask just to see if he was lucky enough that Harry would spill the beans. “What is in it anyway?”
“Er, um, something important.” Harry quickly pocketed the tape, putting it out of sight. “I’ll er, just go then.” He hurried down the corridor and back to his room.
Stevie carried his package and put it on the bed where Harry’s package was until a while ago. He opened it and took out the first thing he saw, which was the order sheet. A small red box? Where the hell am I gonna find a small red box in a hotel…
He looked at the remaining items in the box. “What the… A portable mini sewing machine? Great. Adhesive remover? … No one’s going to buy this crap.” He mumbled to himself. Remembering that he should be calling Carra the moment he received the package, Stevie grabbed the phone and dialled the number.
“Red Crown, this is Owen.”
“Mikey, it’s me.” The guys in the office shared one phone between them. It was supposed to making thing easier for the clients and themselves. Aside from Jamie Carragher, Michael Owen was another of Rafa’s employees. He was also a good friend of Steven’s. “I got the package.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“A red box? Who’s looking for it?”
“Uh, somebody new. I got a weird feeling about this one, Stevie. Could be trouble.” The ever-so-worried Mikey said. It did get to a point of annoying sometimes, but nonetheless, Steven appreciated his good friend’s concern.
“Trouble’s my old friend, Mikey.”
He could almost see Michael fretting on the other end. “Stevie, I’m serious! Be careful, okay?”
“I will, I will.” He reassured him. “Rafa around?”
“He just stepped out. Some old client called and asked to see him. Said he’d be back, though. Why, you need something?”
“No rush. I’ll call back.”
“So, do you have a plan?” It was about the red box.
“I’ll head down to the front desk and poke around the lost and found. If that doesn’t work, guess I just gotta canvass the hotel.”
“Sounds like one. Let us know if you come up with anything, okay? And be careful!”
“I will. Don’t worry about me, Mikey. I can take care of myself.”
“You better. I would feel much better if Xabi’s by your side. Oh… Oh, oh dear, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“No, no, it’s alright.” Stevie said quickly before Mikey started to get too jumpy.
“You sure?”
“Yea, I am. I’ll get down to business now. Call back later.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Stevie sat on the bed and thought through the events that happened. Now he knew what his job was here. But it felt different. Maybe it was because he ran into Dagger whom he had not seen for three years… Or it could be because of Harry’s cassette tape… Or Mikel Torres, a man who seemed the most suspicious. He got up and walked towards the door. I think it’s gonna be a long night, Xabi…
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): In this chapter... Stevie/Xabi, hints of Agger/Finnan
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 4
Word Count: 1,534
Summary: Steven receives an assignment.
A door opened behind him and footsteps echoed in the silent hallway as a man stepped out from the room. Steven heard the door closing but couldn’t care less. The mysterious Mr Mikel Torres and his chain continued to trouble him. He suddenly remembered seeing Mikel’s room number. 213. He looked down the hall and at the door of room 213. We need to talk. But first, where was the blasted package?
“Hey, mate, you all right?”
Stevie turned around to face the man who just came out of room 216. He was a tall guy with black curly hair and a dark, dangerous aura. He looked pretty concerned that Stevie was just standing there with his head against the door.
“Fine. Thanks.”
The other man nodded and was about to walk away when he stopped and looked back at Steven.
“You… just came up from the front desk, did you?”
“That’s right. Any problem?”
“No. No… Did you… happen to see anyone checking in?”
What an odd question, Stevie thought. “Yes.” Is this guy expecting someone? Torres?
“What’d he look like? Which room is he in?”
“Young. Gold-streaked brown hair. Freckles all over his face. Why you asking?” He held off answering the question about the room, just in case Torres valued his privacy as much as Stevie did his. “Expecting someone?”
The guest from 216 shook his head after listening to Stevie’s description of Torres. He frowned and looked extremely worried that he missed catching the first question. “Yes, but not the one that you described. Thanks anyway, pal.” He started to walk away but Stevie wasn’t going to let him. Leave no stone unturned. Especially in a place where everything was starting to sound and look very suspicious.
“Who’re you waiting for?”
The man looked at Stevie cautiously. “None of your business, mate.” He gave Stevie a ‘enough questions’ look.
“Hey, you’re the one who started asking questions first.” Steven retorted. “I’m just curious now. Maybe I can help keep a lookout for your friend.”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips together and considered Stevie’s offer. “Very well. His name’s Andriy Shevchenko. Brown hair, not very tall man. If you see him, tell him Michael Ballack is waiting for him in 216.”
Michael waited to see if Stevie had anything else to say when Dagger chose this time to make his appearance.
“Yo, Stevie!” The bellboy looked from Steven to Michael, and then realising he must have interrupted something, started to apologise profusely. “Aw crap. My bad. Sorry, sorry.”
Stevie ignored the former pickpocket and nodded to Michael. “Will do.” He said, a belated response to Ballack’s earlier request. The dark man nodded back and returned to his room. Stevie watched his back as he disappeared behind the door. Is it just me getting too paranoid or does Michael Ballack sound kinda familiar? He decided it was both and sought to get to the bottom of things somehow by tonight.
“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to interrupt ya. What were you chatting about anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Aw, c’mon. Let me in on a little bit of your secrets, please?” He tried to use a pleading puppy-eye tactic and succeeded - though not because Steven turned soft at the sight of it, but because he couldn’t stand that look on Dagger’s face for another second.
“He was looking for an Andriy Shevchenko.”
“Shevchenko, huh? Hmm…” Dagger rested his chin on his fingers and wrinkled his brows.
“You recognise the name?” Stevie was hoping Daniel’s information might help him understand why Ballack was waiting for this guy.
“Nope. But I’ll tell you if I do.” He said, and Stevie wanted to knock that cheeky smile off his face.
“You’re crap, Dagger.” He murmured, then said aloud, “You looking for me?”
“Yeah.” Daniel said, looking both apologetic and sheepish. “Yea, I’m sorry for delivering the wrong package, ya? One bloody helluva mistake. I’ll go fetch yours from the other guy, if you want.”
Well, at least the youngster had the courtesy to come apologise. Dagger’s changed quite a bit, he thought. “Forget it. He’s sending it over himself.”
“Wow, that’s great!” No doubt Daniel was just glad he didn’t have to do the extra work.
“By the way, did you figure it out on your own that you delivered the wrong package or did someone tell you?”
“Finna did.”
“You two close?” Steven had meant for it to sound like a casual question. After all, he would expect Dagger and Finna to be best buddies considering both of them worked and lived in the hotel for three years. So he was surprised when his question brought a blush to Daniel’s cheeks.
“N-n-no…” The bellboy muttered something else but Stevie couldn’t catch it. “I-I gotta go.” And he was off before Stevie could stop him. Reckoning that Dagger’s problems were probably not worth his attention, he went into his room. Yanking his suitcase open, he pulled out a shabby looking notepad and started scribbling notes. He hadn’t done this in a while - not since departing the force - but the excitement of investigating something was coming back to him as he jotted down names, notes and his suspicions.
Just after he was done with Michael Ballack and Andriy Shevchenko, there was a knock on the door. He answered it and there stood a man with a box beside his feet.
“Um… Steven Gerrard?”
“The one and only.” Not exactly since there was another ‘Steven Gerrard’ here six months ago. “Are you the guy who called the front desk earlier? About the packages?”
“Yes, that’s me. Harry Kewell, I’m staying in room 211.” He picked up the box by his feet and handed it to Stevie. “Yours. Could I have mine back?”
Steven nodded and went to fetch Harry’s box. When he gave it to the man, Harry appeared very relieved on seeing the tape, but then realised the package had been opened. “You… opened it?”
“Well, yea, how else would I have realised it was the wrong one?”
“Oh…” Harry looked very troubled indeed. “Did you… Did you listen to it?”
“No.” And then he thought he might as well ask just to see if he was lucky enough that Harry would spill the beans. “What is in it anyway?”
“Er, um, something important.” Harry quickly pocketed the tape, putting it out of sight. “I’ll er, just go then.” He hurried down the corridor and back to his room.
Stevie carried his package and put it on the bed where Harry’s package was until a while ago. He opened it and took out the first thing he saw, which was the order sheet. A small red box? Where the hell am I gonna find a small red box in a hotel…
He looked at the remaining items in the box. “What the… A portable mini sewing machine? Great. Adhesive remover? … No one’s going to buy this crap.” He mumbled to himself. Remembering that he should be calling Carra the moment he received the package, Stevie grabbed the phone and dialled the number.
“Red Crown, this is Owen.”
“Mikey, it’s me.” The guys in the office shared one phone between them. It was supposed to making thing easier for the clients and themselves. Aside from Jamie Carragher, Michael Owen was another of Rafa’s employees. He was also a good friend of Steven’s. “I got the package.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“A red box? Who’s looking for it?”
“Uh, somebody new. I got a weird feeling about this one, Stevie. Could be trouble.” The ever-so-worried Mikey said. It did get to a point of annoying sometimes, but nonetheless, Steven appreciated his good friend’s concern.
“Trouble’s my old friend, Mikey.”
He could almost see Michael fretting on the other end. “Stevie, I’m serious! Be careful, okay?”
“I will, I will.” He reassured him. “Rafa around?”
“He just stepped out. Some old client called and asked to see him. Said he’d be back, though. Why, you need something?”
“No rush. I’ll call back.”
“So, do you have a plan?” It was about the red box.
“I’ll head down to the front desk and poke around the lost and found. If that doesn’t work, guess I just gotta canvass the hotel.”
“Sounds like one. Let us know if you come up with anything, okay? And be careful!”
“I will. Don’t worry about me, Mikey. I can take care of myself.”
“You better. I would feel much better if Xabi’s by your side. Oh… Oh, oh dear, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“No, no, it’s alright.” Stevie said quickly before Mikey started to get too jumpy.
“You sure?”
“Yea, I am. I’ll get down to business now. Call back later.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Stevie sat on the bed and thought through the events that happened. Now he knew what his job was here. But it felt different. Maybe it was because he ran into Dagger whom he had not seen for three years… Or it could be because of Harry’s cassette tape… Or Mikel Torres, a man who seemed the most suspicious. He got up and walked towards the door. I think it’s gonna be a long night, Xabi…