Hotel Dusk: Room 215 - Act III, Scene VIII
Title: Hotel Dusk: Room 215
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Stevie/Xabi, Sheva/Kaka, Sheva/Micha
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 8
Word Count: 1,290
Summary: Stevie eavesdrops.
Still reeling from the mass amount of information he gathered from Daniel, Steven wasn’t so sure if he was ready to take in some more - that is, if the person on the line was Rafa who supposedly has something to tell him. But this could be important, so he made a lunge for the phone before it stopped ringing.
“Stevie?” It was Michael, sounding both worried and angry at the same time.
“What now?”
“I heard Rafa talking to himself. He said something about Xabi.”
Stevie waited for Michael to say something more, but he didn’t. “So?”
“I can’t believe you’re still looking for him. Stevie, please! This is turning into an obsession!”
Not now… “Mikey, we’ve been through this. Why’re you bringing it up again?”
“You said you’d keep it down!”
“But I didn’t say I’d give up.”
Rendered speechless, Mikey remained silent on the other side. While Stevie appreciated Mikey’s concern for his well-being, he wasn’t going to give up now. Not when he was this close. The answer was somewhere in this hotel. He just needed to find it.
Defeated, Mikey said, “Just… don’t put yourself in danger, promise me.”
“I promise.” He said, then chuckled. How the tables were turned now! He used to be the one showering buckets of concern on his friend. Now it was the other way round. “Is Rafa there? Put him on, will you?” He had much to discuss with the boss about the information he just gained.
“’Fraid not. He just stepped out.”
“Great. Have him page me when he gets back.”
“I will.”
“Thanks.” He was just about to hang up when Mikey spoke again.
“And Stevie? Take care.”
Nodding (and he was sure Mikey knew it), he hung up. Perhaps his search for Xabi was indeed a fool’s errand and all these were mere coincidences that would lead to more dead ends. But he would never rest well without at least checking them out. Because he didn’t know what he would do if he gave up…
His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger. Figuring that he would not be able to think on an empty stomach, he headed for the door, but held off opening it when he heard enraged voices on the other side. He pressed his ear to the wooden door, though he didn’t even need to strain to make out what they were saying.
“… For the 10th time, I don’t know where he is either!”
That was Michael Ballack, the guest in the room directly opposite Steven’s. He recognised the fellow’s German accent.
“Don’t lie to me. Where’re you hiding him?”
The other voice was unfamiliar to Stevie, but it sounded tensed and desperate.
“Dammit, Kaka! What must I do to make you believe me? What would I want with Sheva?”
Sheva? Shevchenko? The guy Ballack is waiting for?
“Then where is he?” This Kaka’s voice sounded weak, almost as if he was pleading with Ballack.
“I told you before and I’m telling you again: I don’t know.”
But Kaka wouldn’t buy that. “Then why are you here? I know he was here. Did you meet him… before he left me? Did you have a hand in inducing him to leave me? Is this the place you two have your… your tryst?”
And then Stevie heard quick movement and a sudden ‘thud’ against his door which caused him to take a step back in shock. Moving back, it sounded like Ballack was hissing something to Kaka, whom Stevie assumed was now pinned against his door by the tall German.
“… he didn’t cheat on you,” was all Steven caught before he heard Ballack releasing Kaka. Seconds later, a door slammed shut. He waited until he heard departing footsteps, which meant Kaka was heading back to his room. The sound of another door opening and closing at the far end of the corridor told him it was safe to come out now.
Just as he had expected, there was no one outside when he stepped out. Knowing it probably wasn’t his business if two men were looking for someone, Stevie went down the stairs and towards the restaurant. But he couldn’t help but feel intrigued and wondered if Ballack was indeed telling the truth, because the dark German felt highly suspicious (never doubt a detective’s gut feelings) and he was now all the more sure he had heard that name somewhere.
“G’evening… uh, sir. Welcome to the Moonlight Grill!” Daniel’s boisterous and utterly artificial greeting jarred Steven out of his thoughts. Unknowingly, he had already arrived at the restaurant.
“You the host for this restaurant too?”
“I told ya! Raul’s a total slave driver! Sun goes down and I gotta run this place and the bar too.”
Stevie chuckled. Raul might just be that one good thing that happened to Daniel. He might not be hardworking employee of the year, but he wasn’t as bad a slob as he was three years ago. Nodding, he was ready to enter the restaurant when Daniel stopped him.
“Oh, wait! I gotta ask before I forget again. Anything wrong with your room?”
“Wrong?” A strange question to ask since everything was in tip-top condition - a surprise for Stevie seeing how rundown this place looked on the outside.
“You know, lights don’t work? Water’s messed up, rats or whatever?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, cool. Good to hear. Some of the rooms don’t work too well, ya know? Raul hasn’t let anyone stayed in ‘em for six months now.”
“Why not?” Now this piqued Stevie’s interest. A person like Raul wouldn’t let a flaw in a room be left alone for six months.
“Dunno.” Dagger said with a shrug. “Raul won’t fix ‘em.”
“Which rooms?”
“Let’s see… 217 and… 218.”
217! The other ‘Steven Gerrard’ stayed in that room. Would he be careless enough to leave some clues behind? It was worth checking out. Realising he could not work alone and Daniel probably knew the hotel better than he did, Stevie decided to take up the bellboy’s earlier offer. “Dagger, didn’t you say we were a team? I need you to get me into room 217.”
“Didn’t think you’d need my help, Officer…” He looked at Steven suspiciously. “What’s up with that room?”
“A guy with my name stayed there six months ago. I think it was Xabi.”
“No way! Wait. How’d you find out which room he stayed in?”
“I looked at the guest register.”
“You did? How?”
“I went into Raul’s office.”
“You mean you broke into Raul’s office!”
Smart kid. Stevie gave him some credit for picking that out.
“Look, can you get me in or not?”
Daniel looked forced, but he agreed eventually. He wanted to get to Xabi as well - especially since his ass depended on it. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do. Raul keeps all the keys locked up, so I gotta wait for the right time. But don’t worry! Dagger’ll pull it off.”
It was probably what Daniel does best, so Stevie would leave it to him. Pushing the doors open, he entered the restaurant, another part of the hotel which impressed him a second time. There was a small stage at the corner with a piano that looked like it hasn’t been touched in a while. Above and around it were old pictures of old guests (both ordinary and famous) who once patronised the hotel during its golden days.
Harry Kewell sat in another corner, too engrossed in stabbing his food to notice Steven’s arrival. In the center sat Mikel Torres… just the person Stevie wanted to talk to. Aside from Harry’s fork clicking rhythmically against the plate and the soft whirring of the fans overhead, the restaurant was pretty much quiet.
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Stevie/Xabi, Sheva/Kaka, Sheva/Micha
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Not true! However much I wish, I don't own the players or Hotel Dusk.
Chapter 8
Word Count: 1,290
Summary: Stevie eavesdrops.
Still reeling from the mass amount of information he gathered from Daniel, Steven wasn’t so sure if he was ready to take in some more - that is, if the person on the line was Rafa who supposedly has something to tell him. But this could be important, so he made a lunge for the phone before it stopped ringing.
“Stevie?” It was Michael, sounding both worried and angry at the same time.
“What now?”
“I heard Rafa talking to himself. He said something about Xabi.”
Stevie waited for Michael to say something more, but he didn’t. “So?”
“I can’t believe you’re still looking for him. Stevie, please! This is turning into an obsession!”
Not now… “Mikey, we’ve been through this. Why’re you bringing it up again?”
“You said you’d keep it down!”
“But I didn’t say I’d give up.”
Rendered speechless, Mikey remained silent on the other side. While Stevie appreciated Mikey’s concern for his well-being, he wasn’t going to give up now. Not when he was this close. The answer was somewhere in this hotel. He just needed to find it.
Defeated, Mikey said, “Just… don’t put yourself in danger, promise me.”
“I promise.” He said, then chuckled. How the tables were turned now! He used to be the one showering buckets of concern on his friend. Now it was the other way round. “Is Rafa there? Put him on, will you?” He had much to discuss with the boss about the information he just gained.
“’Fraid not. He just stepped out.”
“Great. Have him page me when he gets back.”
“I will.”
“Thanks.” He was just about to hang up when Mikey spoke again.
“And Stevie? Take care.”
Nodding (and he was sure Mikey knew it), he hung up. Perhaps his search for Xabi was indeed a fool’s errand and all these were mere coincidences that would lead to more dead ends. But he would never rest well without at least checking them out. Because he didn’t know what he would do if he gave up…
His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger. Figuring that he would not be able to think on an empty stomach, he headed for the door, but held off opening it when he heard enraged voices on the other side. He pressed his ear to the wooden door, though he didn’t even need to strain to make out what they were saying.
“… For the 10th time, I don’t know where he is either!”
That was Michael Ballack, the guest in the room directly opposite Steven’s. He recognised the fellow’s German accent.
“Don’t lie to me. Where’re you hiding him?”
The other voice was unfamiliar to Stevie, but it sounded tensed and desperate.
“Dammit, Kaka! What must I do to make you believe me? What would I want with Sheva?”
Sheva? Shevchenko? The guy Ballack is waiting for?
“Then where is he?” This Kaka’s voice sounded weak, almost as if he was pleading with Ballack.
“I told you before and I’m telling you again: I don’t know.”
But Kaka wouldn’t buy that. “Then why are you here? I know he was here. Did you meet him… before he left me? Did you have a hand in inducing him to leave me? Is this the place you two have your… your tryst?”
And then Stevie heard quick movement and a sudden ‘thud’ against his door which caused him to take a step back in shock. Moving back, it sounded like Ballack was hissing something to Kaka, whom Stevie assumed was now pinned against his door by the tall German.
“… he didn’t cheat on you,” was all Steven caught before he heard Ballack releasing Kaka. Seconds later, a door slammed shut. He waited until he heard departing footsteps, which meant Kaka was heading back to his room. The sound of another door opening and closing at the far end of the corridor told him it was safe to come out now.
Just as he had expected, there was no one outside when he stepped out. Knowing it probably wasn’t his business if two men were looking for someone, Stevie went down the stairs and towards the restaurant. But he couldn’t help but feel intrigued and wondered if Ballack was indeed telling the truth, because the dark German felt highly suspicious (never doubt a detective’s gut feelings) and he was now all the more sure he had heard that name somewhere.
“G’evening… uh, sir. Welcome to the Moonlight Grill!” Daniel’s boisterous and utterly artificial greeting jarred Steven out of his thoughts. Unknowingly, he had already arrived at the restaurant.
“You the host for this restaurant too?”
“I told ya! Raul’s a total slave driver! Sun goes down and I gotta run this place and the bar too.”
Stevie chuckled. Raul might just be that one good thing that happened to Daniel. He might not be hardworking employee of the year, but he wasn’t as bad a slob as he was three years ago. Nodding, he was ready to enter the restaurant when Daniel stopped him.
“Oh, wait! I gotta ask before I forget again. Anything wrong with your room?”
“Wrong?” A strange question to ask since everything was in tip-top condition - a surprise for Stevie seeing how rundown this place looked on the outside.
“You know, lights don’t work? Water’s messed up, rats or whatever?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, cool. Good to hear. Some of the rooms don’t work too well, ya know? Raul hasn’t let anyone stayed in ‘em for six months now.”
“Why not?” Now this piqued Stevie’s interest. A person like Raul wouldn’t let a flaw in a room be left alone for six months.
“Dunno.” Dagger said with a shrug. “Raul won’t fix ‘em.”
“Which rooms?”
“Let’s see… 217 and… 218.”
217! The other ‘Steven Gerrard’ stayed in that room. Would he be careless enough to leave some clues behind? It was worth checking out. Realising he could not work alone and Daniel probably knew the hotel better than he did, Stevie decided to take up the bellboy’s earlier offer. “Dagger, didn’t you say we were a team? I need you to get me into room 217.”
“Didn’t think you’d need my help, Officer…” He looked at Steven suspiciously. “What’s up with that room?”
“A guy with my name stayed there six months ago. I think it was Xabi.”
“No way! Wait. How’d you find out which room he stayed in?”
“I looked at the guest register.”
“You did? How?”
“I went into Raul’s office.”
“You mean you broke into Raul’s office!”
Smart kid. Stevie gave him some credit for picking that out.
“Look, can you get me in or not?”
Daniel looked forced, but he agreed eventually. He wanted to get to Xabi as well - especially since his ass depended on it. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do. Raul keeps all the keys locked up, so I gotta wait for the right time. But don’t worry! Dagger’ll pull it off.”
It was probably what Daniel does best, so Stevie would leave it to him. Pushing the doors open, he entered the restaurant, another part of the hotel which impressed him a second time. There was a small stage at the corner with a piano that looked like it hasn’t been touched in a while. Above and around it were old pictures of old guests (both ordinary and famous) who once patronised the hotel during its golden days.
Harry Kewell sat in another corner, too engrossed in stabbing his food to notice Steven’s arrival. In the center sat Mikel Torres… just the person Stevie wanted to talk to. Aside from Harry’s fork clicking rhythmically against the plate and the soft whirring of the fans overhead, the restaurant was pretty much quiet.