For The Least Of These Read Online Free Page B

sight. Quicker than either of us had moved in years, we bolted out of the room and into my car. We didn’t bother to look back. I drove until we were once again at the Richland Hotel.
    “You know they don’t have a room,” Alicia said.
    “Maybe not now, but they might have one for tonight.” I got out and reached for my suede jacket that was lying in the backseat. The first slivers of sun were beginning to illuminate the sky like very dim searchlights. I noticed that it was almost five-forty. By seven, the sun would be peeking over the horizon. I made a mental note that I had now been up for 24 hours.
    Once I passed through the heavy glass doors of the Richland, I immediately noticed the striking similarities between Richland and the Rest Inn: there were none. The floor of the Richland was covered in salmon colored cut pile carpeting. There were two sofas in the lobby. Both were upholstered in black leather and the legs and armrests were of carved mahogany. Leopard print pillows were arranged attractively on each. A pine coffee table, neatly stacked with magazines, sat in front of the sofas. A potted dracaena stood between the two sofas. In a remote corner stood a rubber plant. The wallpaper was bone colored with small white magnolia blossoms widely spaced along a slender trailing vine. There was no Naugahyde in sight and there were no unsightly coffee stains.
    A clerk stood at the front desk, but her back was turned towards me. I took the opportunity to slip down the hallway to find a ladies’ room. Halfway down the hallway I found the restrooms – just opposite the elevators. Inside the ladies’ room, it occurred to me that as long as I had money to pay for a room, the desk clerk shouldn’t send me away. Maybe all the rooms had been taken for Friday night, but surely there would be one available for Saturday. Just as a precaution, I washed my tired face and brushed my hair. I decided that was all I needed to do, and I walked confidently out of the ladies’ room.
    As I approached the front desk, the clerk, a young woman in her early twenties, looked up into my eyes. She had a warm smile and friendly eyes. “May I help you?” she asked in a voice too exuberant for the early hour.
    “I’d like to get a room for myself and my friend,” I said. “We would be staying until tomorrow’s check out time.”
    The young girl typed something into a computer on the desk. “We do have a suite available. It runs two-hundred-sixty-five dollars per night, and I will have to charge you for two nights.”
    “I hadn’t really planned on a suite,” I explained, trying to hide my horror over the exorbitant price of the room.
    She started to frown slightly. “I’m afraid that is all we have. You are free to use our house phone to locate another hotel if you like.”
    I wasn’t about to go through that again. “Oh, no. Did I say we wouldn’t take it? Of course not. It’s just that you didn’t say it was on the club level, and I’m not used to staying anywhere else. If a standard suite is all you have, by all means, we’ll take it.”
    Her dazzling smile returned, “I’m sorry we don’t have a suite available on our concierge level this time. Perhaps you would like our reservation number so we will be expecting you on your next visit?” Her sarcasm did not escape me, although it was heavily veiled.
    “Thank you so much, dear,” I said as I accepted the key card from her. She had written the reservation number in red on the front so I wouldn’t miss it. I noticed we were in room 970. I thanked the desk clerk and darted to the front entrance to get Alicia.
    Alicia appeared to be dozing. I opened her door, and she let out a sigh and said, “Rick, Rick?” Then she opened her eyes and added, “You’re not Rick Hartwood.”
    “Very funny,” I droned. “Come on, we’ve got a room.”
    “Now? We can go to our room now?”
    “Yes. And I’m so tired that I won’t even care if there’s a man inside our room. He