Fiction
In keeping with my earlier post from today I thought I'd put the first chapter from my novel 'Reclaiming'.
Chapter 1 - Michael
“And if you said
This life ain’t good enough
I’d give my world to lift you up
I’d change my life
To better suit your mood
Because you’re so smooth.”
Santana w/Rob Thomas
“Smooth”
“I believe the lady asked you to let her go,” the tall blonde man said simply.
I glanced up quickly from my computer terminal and stared in disbelief at the trio that stood just a few feet inside the lobby of the hotel where I was working. I had been with the hotel long enough to know what situations I could easily handle myself and which ones I needed to call security for, which was a good thing since I only had a few seconds to access the circumstances and make my decision.
The blonde man who had spoke was boldly facing another man, this one a brunette, who had a firm looking hold on the upper arm of the last member of the trio, a very pretty blonde woman. I recognized both the woman and the blonde man as guests at the hotel, but I also knew who the second man was.
I thought everyone in Vegas knew better than to mess with Anthony Cordelone, I thought to myself, referring to the second man who was a known member of one of the two local mafia families. So what was this guy doing?
Then I remembered that the good looking blonde man was new to the city, having only checked into the hotel about a half an hour ago, which I knew because I was the one who had handled it. I was a night manager at Caesar’s Palace and even though I didn’t normally spend all my time behind the desk anymore, I happened to be covering one of the girls’ lunch breaks when Michael Moorecock had checked in.
From my position behind the front desk at Caesar’s, I had seen many things in the past six years, ranging from the gorgeous to the bizarre and right now this man, Michael Moorecock, was surprisingly both. Not many people stood up to the Cordelone’s and lived to tell about it. The night was young yet and I hoped Michael wouldn’t live to regret what he was doing.
“Buzz off, buddy,” Anthony said gruffly as he glared at Michael from under long dark bangs. Without giving Michael another thought he once again pulled the beautiful woman by his side toward the entrance of the hotel. She tried to fight him off but he was just too big.
I felt bad for her. I had seen her around the hotel for the past few days and I knew she had been a guest many times before. Her name was Cordelia Matthews and I had heard through the grapevine that she was a talent agent from Los Angeles. Both she and Anthony were dressed in formal attire; Anthony in a tuxedo and Cordelia in a stunning navy blue silk gown that made her look like one of the stars she represented when they were on the red carpet. I wasn’t sure how she had managed to hook up with Anthony, but I imagined that she was regretting her choice in dinner companions about right now.
I watched as Michael moved with a speed that was almost to fast to position himself between the couple and the front door. “What part of that didn’t you understand?” he practically growled as he settled into a powerful stance, apparently undaunted by the fact that Anthony Cordelone was at least five inches taller than him and probably sixty pounds heavier. Not to say that he couldn’t hold his own, though. Michael was close to six feet tall himself and built like a football player besides.
He even looked more polished than Anthony did, with his hair cut short and gelled so that it stuck up in spikes that made him appear as if he had just stepped out of an issue of GQ. His suit was an impeccably tailored pinstripe that was probably Armani and made him look like the high rollers that I saw every day at the hotel.
I knew that trouble was about thirty seconds away and my supervisor would have a fit if he found out that a fight had occurred in the front lobby during my shift and I hadn’t done anything to stop it. Caesar’s Palace was known for its glamour and flashy lights, not street brawls. Knowing that I couldn’t use the fact that I had been distracted by Michael’s gallantry as an excuse for not diffusing the situation, I propelled my body into action, looking around to see if Randy or Stan, two of the security guys I knew were on duty, were around and found neither.
I was just reaching for the phone to call the security office when all of a sudden Anthony dropped his companion’s hand and moved without another word toward the door and simply left. I couldn’t believe it much less explain it as I stood there with a stupefied look on my face, the phone receiver half way to my ear.
Like I already mentioned, Anthony was a member of one of the few Mafia families that will operated in Las Vegas and like the rest of the Cordelone’s, he wasn’t known for letting anyone walk all over him. Had I missed something? Maybe Michael had flashed a weapon or something and Anthony didn’t want to be bothered with the nuisance.
That had to be it, I thought as I blinked and replace the receiver on its cradle, still not completely satisfied with my explanation.
“Are you okay?” Michael was asking Cordelia as he took one of her hands and held it loosely in his. His compassion was surprising for someone who looked like he belonged in a ruthless boardroom and I couldn’t help sighing a little and wishing that I had been the one he had come to rescue.
“Yes, thank you,” she said with a hand at her delicate throat as she watched Anthony’s retreating back in relief. “I can’t believe he gave up like that. I was so frightened.”
“Are you a guest? Should I call you a cab?” Michael asked.
I was relieved to see that he was a gentleman, which was more than anyone could say for Anthony Cordelone. Every cocktail waitress and souvenir photographer on The Strip knew not to buy his line of bullshit, much less take him up on his invitation for a drink when they got off. I found myself wondering what had brought him and Cordelia together in the first place.
“No, I’m staying here, but thank you for your concern.” She was flashing Michael a fabulous smile as she smoothed her blonde hair that had been piled so artistically on the top of her head. “Contrary to this display, I am usually not this stupid. Mr. Cordelone was quite insistent that I accompany him back to his penthouse and was rather upset when I refused. Thank you again for your help. My name is Cordelia Matthews.” She held out her free hand and Michael took it gently.
“Michael Moorecock,” he replied with a smile. “And the pleasure is all mine. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe I should take you to your room.” He glanced in my direction then and smiled at me warmly as he gave me a friendly wink.
I returned his smile shyly, feeling like a peeping tom for continuing to observe their conversation. I was amazed at how profoundly affected I was by this man whom I had just met earlier this evening. When he had checked in I had been impressed by how nice he was to me, not at all uppity like others of his obvious wealth who came to Sin City to vacation and usually ended up loosing more money in a weekend then I made all year.
I didn’t dilute myself into thinking that guests like Michael Moorecock cared about anything except that they got a room on the right side of the building or had enough towels in the morning, but there was something genuine about the way he had asked how I was that warmed me to him instantly. I couldn’t explain it. It was like a natural magnetism that I had never experienced before.
“No, really, I’m fine,” Cordelia was saying as she continued to smile at him. “Would you like a drink? It’s the least I can do. You defended me after all.”
Michael returned her smile as he took her hand that he still held and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. They turned and Michael ushered her toward one of the many bars on the ground floor of the casino and as they walked away from where I stood I had to admit that they made a good-looking couple. Instead of her blond hair detracting from Michael’s, it made them appear as if they had been paired together since birth. Like one of those couples that lived at the country club.
I told myself that I had no right to feel jealous as I watched the two of them move out of sight. I knew that there was no way I would ever be in Michael’s league, but I couldn’t help wanting to be the one on his arm, the one he was giving his attention to. Michael Moorecock had that way about him. He was an All-American boy with an underlying tone of power that would deter any street thug within a five-block radius. He was the kind of guy that exuded confidence and charm and a particular wit that was most appealing.
I sighed quietly as Pam slipped behind the counter from her lunch break and she smiled at me warmly. “Anything exciting happen?” she asked as she reviewed the list of new arriving guests to see who was yet to check in.
“Not really,” I said as I continued to stare at the spot where I had last seen the couple before the crowd had swallowed them.
**Note: the people depicted in the graphics from my previous post are meant to help the reader better picture the characters within the story.
Chapter 1 - Michael
“And if you said
This life ain’t good enough
I’d give my world to lift you up
I’d change my life
To better suit your mood
Because you’re so smooth.”
Santana w/Rob Thomas
“Smooth”
“I believe the lady asked you to let her go,” the tall blonde man said simply.
I glanced up quickly from my computer terminal and stared in disbelief at the trio that stood just a few feet inside the lobby of the hotel where I was working. I had been with the hotel long enough to know what situations I could easily handle myself and which ones I needed to call security for, which was a good thing since I only had a few seconds to access the circumstances and make my decision.
The blonde man who had spoke was boldly facing another man, this one a brunette, who had a firm looking hold on the upper arm of the last member of the trio, a very pretty blonde woman. I recognized both the woman and the blonde man as guests at the hotel, but I also knew who the second man was.
I thought everyone in Vegas knew better than to mess with Anthony Cordelone, I thought to myself, referring to the second man who was a known member of one of the two local mafia families. So what was this guy doing?
Then I remembered that the good looking blonde man was new to the city, having only checked into the hotel about a half an hour ago, which I knew because I was the one who had handled it. I was a night manager at Caesar’s Palace and even though I didn’t normally spend all my time behind the desk anymore, I happened to be covering one of the girls’ lunch breaks when Michael Moorecock had checked in.
From my position behind the front desk at Caesar’s, I had seen many things in the past six years, ranging from the gorgeous to the bizarre and right now this man, Michael Moorecock, was surprisingly both. Not many people stood up to the Cordelone’s and lived to tell about it. The night was young yet and I hoped Michael wouldn’t live to regret what he was doing.
“Buzz off, buddy,” Anthony said gruffly as he glared at Michael from under long dark bangs. Without giving Michael another thought he once again pulled the beautiful woman by his side toward the entrance of the hotel. She tried to fight him off but he was just too big.
I felt bad for her. I had seen her around the hotel for the past few days and I knew she had been a guest many times before. Her name was Cordelia Matthews and I had heard through the grapevine that she was a talent agent from Los Angeles. Both she and Anthony were dressed in formal attire; Anthony in a tuxedo and Cordelia in a stunning navy blue silk gown that made her look like one of the stars she represented when they were on the red carpet. I wasn’t sure how she had managed to hook up with Anthony, but I imagined that she was regretting her choice in dinner companions about right now.
I watched as Michael moved with a speed that was almost to fast to position himself between the couple and the front door. “What part of that didn’t you understand?” he practically growled as he settled into a powerful stance, apparently undaunted by the fact that Anthony Cordelone was at least five inches taller than him and probably sixty pounds heavier. Not to say that he couldn’t hold his own, though. Michael was close to six feet tall himself and built like a football player besides.
He even looked more polished than Anthony did, with his hair cut short and gelled so that it stuck up in spikes that made him appear as if he had just stepped out of an issue of GQ. His suit was an impeccably tailored pinstripe that was probably Armani and made him look like the high rollers that I saw every day at the hotel.
I knew that trouble was about thirty seconds away and my supervisor would have a fit if he found out that a fight had occurred in the front lobby during my shift and I hadn’t done anything to stop it. Caesar’s Palace was known for its glamour and flashy lights, not street brawls. Knowing that I couldn’t use the fact that I had been distracted by Michael’s gallantry as an excuse for not diffusing the situation, I propelled my body into action, looking around to see if Randy or Stan, two of the security guys I knew were on duty, were around and found neither.
I was just reaching for the phone to call the security office when all of a sudden Anthony dropped his companion’s hand and moved without another word toward the door and simply left. I couldn’t believe it much less explain it as I stood there with a stupefied look on my face, the phone receiver half way to my ear.
Like I already mentioned, Anthony was a member of one of the few Mafia families that will operated in Las Vegas and like the rest of the Cordelone’s, he wasn’t known for letting anyone walk all over him. Had I missed something? Maybe Michael had flashed a weapon or something and Anthony didn’t want to be bothered with the nuisance.
That had to be it, I thought as I blinked and replace the receiver on its cradle, still not completely satisfied with my explanation.
“Are you okay?” Michael was asking Cordelia as he took one of her hands and held it loosely in his. His compassion was surprising for someone who looked like he belonged in a ruthless boardroom and I couldn’t help sighing a little and wishing that I had been the one he had come to rescue.
“Yes, thank you,” she said with a hand at her delicate throat as she watched Anthony’s retreating back in relief. “I can’t believe he gave up like that. I was so frightened.”
“Are you a guest? Should I call you a cab?” Michael asked.
I was relieved to see that he was a gentleman, which was more than anyone could say for Anthony Cordelone. Every cocktail waitress and souvenir photographer on The Strip knew not to buy his line of bullshit, much less take him up on his invitation for a drink when they got off. I found myself wondering what had brought him and Cordelia together in the first place.
“No, I’m staying here, but thank you for your concern.” She was flashing Michael a fabulous smile as she smoothed her blonde hair that had been piled so artistically on the top of her head. “Contrary to this display, I am usually not this stupid. Mr. Cordelone was quite insistent that I accompany him back to his penthouse and was rather upset when I refused. Thank you again for your help. My name is Cordelia Matthews.” She held out her free hand and Michael took it gently.
“Michael Moorecock,” he replied with a smile. “And the pleasure is all mine. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe I should take you to your room.” He glanced in my direction then and smiled at me warmly as he gave me a friendly wink.
I returned his smile shyly, feeling like a peeping tom for continuing to observe their conversation. I was amazed at how profoundly affected I was by this man whom I had just met earlier this evening. When he had checked in I had been impressed by how nice he was to me, not at all uppity like others of his obvious wealth who came to Sin City to vacation and usually ended up loosing more money in a weekend then I made all year.
I didn’t dilute myself into thinking that guests like Michael Moorecock cared about anything except that they got a room on the right side of the building or had enough towels in the morning, but there was something genuine about the way he had asked how I was that warmed me to him instantly. I couldn’t explain it. It was like a natural magnetism that I had never experienced before.
“No, really, I’m fine,” Cordelia was saying as she continued to smile at him. “Would you like a drink? It’s the least I can do. You defended me after all.”
Michael returned her smile as he took her hand that he still held and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. They turned and Michael ushered her toward one of the many bars on the ground floor of the casino and as they walked away from where I stood I had to admit that they made a good-looking couple. Instead of her blond hair detracting from Michael’s, it made them appear as if they had been paired together since birth. Like one of those couples that lived at the country club.
I told myself that I had no right to feel jealous as I watched the two of them move out of sight. I knew that there was no way I would ever be in Michael’s league, but I couldn’t help wanting to be the one on his arm, the one he was giving his attention to. Michael Moorecock had that way about him. He was an All-American boy with an underlying tone of power that would deter any street thug within a five-block radius. He was the kind of guy that exuded confidence and charm and a particular wit that was most appealing.
I sighed quietly as Pam slipped behind the counter from her lunch break and she smiled at me warmly. “Anything exciting happen?” she asked as she reviewed the list of new arriving guests to see who was yet to check in.
“Not really,” I said as I continued to stare at the spot where I had last seen the couple before the crowd had swallowed them.
**Note: the people depicted in the graphics from my previous post are meant to help the reader better picture the characters within the story.