The Waiting Game (Garvey Fields) Read Online Free Page A

security.
    I’d been hired because I had a look, a pent up tension that looked like I could release all of my potential energy at once and go off like something from the Manhattan Project. I was a lean, strong specimen of man whose ancestors picked cotton in the South and cut sugar cane in the Greater Antilles. My face was usually bright, but on a work night it slowly turned to stone. They liked me because I was an ex-investigator for the D.A with a gun license who could be trusted not to steal the hotels silverware.
    It was late, about two in the morning, but a few guests were still mulling around the hotel lounge waiting to take expensive conquests to their rooms to spend more money in their room’s mini-bar. I’d caught many a man chained to their beds hours after they should have checked out, too embarrassed to report being robbed after a blowjob in case their wives used it in a court of law.
     “Getting late,” said Veronica the night receptionist.
    “Yep,” I said. “Soon enough I’ll be out of this place.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Private detective work.”
    “You don’t sound too infused.”
    “I like the work, but poor humble people don’t hire detectives, poor people don’t need someone they pay to confirm infidelity and the like.”
    “So why not change the target demographic.”
    “Demographic?”
    “Yeah that means…”
    “I know what it means sweetie.”
    “Well why not aim for the rich folks? They have a far larger amount of disposable income and usually acknowledge they have to pay a premium for good service. Paychecks will be higher but perhaps not as frequent.”
    “It’s an interesting concept…”
    “It’s not a concept, it’s a business model. Get them to pay more for a better more personal service. Offer a money back guarantee, I know Quinn’s got you on some kind of adventure, why not use it to network.”
    “You should be in charge of my presidential campaign.”
    “Anything else you want me to do for you?
    I don’t like working with beautiful women, it’s distracting and inconvenient, especially when they are smart too. Veronica was twenty-two, Latino and had a nice round ass and C-cup breasts. When I say Latino I mean Selma Hayek, not Jennifer Lopez. This was inconvenient, because I had run out of reasons to go behind her desk and slide past her looking for something. She let me rub myself on her ass for paperclips, staples, memo pads and flyers, next I’d have to ask her to join me in the boiler room to check the plumbing.
    The night cleaner, had his industrial vacuum cleaner, floor polisher and disinfectant sprays ready for action. The rules were that he wasn’t permitted to clean the lobby and ground floor corridor areas until three, so he busied himself wiping tables, turning off lamps in unoccupied areas and ogling Veronica. I felt bad for him, they were about the same age, but she was in her second year of a political science degree and he had dreams of owning a restaurant. There was nothing wrong with his dream, but it didn’t impress Veronica. Neither did his scrawny physique, I’d caught Veronica trying to sneak a look at me in the changing rooms after a gym session. She liked tall dark men, with defined trapezium and lats. I kept a mental note to myself that I needed to succumb to her attempts to seduce me, wait until it was about four in the morning, disable the security cameras in the reception area, slide behind the counter and hitch up her skirt, it was a matter of principle now.
    Watching the cleaner chase cobwebs I yawned and listened to a low distant melody somewhere in the lounge area of the bar-restaurant. It sounded like Trey Songz or Usher, some tune about losing a lover or getting caught cheating. The sound annoyed me, the area was closed so I ventured down the corridor to see if the staff had neglected their duty and forgotten to turn the sound system off.
    I was frowning or at least I thought I was, the feeling on my face was structured like a