I looked around her towel hanging over the railing but couldn't see anything. She was strategically placed behind it in the Jacuzzi, completely out of sight. But then I heard the SNAP of a bottle opening. Not a beer bottle and not a suntan lotion bottle...
It has to be shampoo. Fuck me; she's going to take a fucking bath in the Jacuzzi. I have a friend who refuses to go in Jacuzzis. She once got sick from the bacteria in one and feels they are cesspools of evil, and though I'm not proud of it and would never do it again, I will admit that I once held my dick up against one of the jets in the one on the roof of a seriously fancy hotel and let it jerk me off until I came. I know, it's fucking so wrong in every way and so unlike me. It was ten years ago, I mean I was still 34, and I was sober, it's not like I was a drunk 16 year old so I have no excuse really I know. I don't know, LA, man, it fucks with my whole trip. I lose myself and just do fucked up things. Not many, hardly any, that was by far the worst, whatever, you're gonna throw the first stone? Anyway, so now it was reconfirmed, this chick was a Supermodel homeless lady.
I stood up and walked over to the railing and pretended to look out at the LA skyline. Fuck it, I didn't care about embarrassing her, she was lucky I didn't call security and have her kicked out. I mean, what the fuck! What was she gonna do next? Cum in the thing? Ooops. Sorry.
Yup, there she was, Suave Baby shampooing her long blonde hair in the Jacuzzi. She was dunking backwards when I looked so she didn't see me watching her. I sat back down and went back to work.
"You want a wine cooler young man?" I turned around to see if the Brooklyn white haired tan guy was offering it to me. He wasn't. The Ohio business man was the lucky guy.
"Sure, thanks."
"Where are you from?"
"Nebraska."
"Oh yeah? I'm from Brooklyn New York, but I've been out her 30 years. I brought Maine lobster to LA."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was in the restaurant business and when I came out in the 70s they never heard of Maine lobster. I'm retired now. I go back and see my ma for Christmas every year for a week but that's it. Too cold for me."
The Nebraska guy nodded and sipped his wine cooler.
"I don't know if you got plans tonight but my good friend Herb Alpert is playing at a joint down the road. I know the bouncers there, if you want, I'll put you on the list. No problem."
"Thanks. That's nice of you."
"No problem."
How genius was this guy? A fucking time warp I was in with the man responsible for all the Maine lobster in LA. Just another day in the freak show that is my life. My future wife turns out to be a homeless phone con woman and my father in law still living in 1972. It was perfect.
"I got grandfathered in this place when they turned it into a hotel 25 years ago. I used to come here to the pool when it was an apartment building and I lived up the street. They let me come here since."
I knew it had to have been something like that. I loved this guy but wanted to enjoy him from afar, like looking at him in a museum. This was one I didn't want to participate in. The Supermodel homeless lady finished up her bath, toweled off, put her dirty jeans and CAA cap on and with a "Thanks for the drink Captain," was off. My meeting was in an hour so I had to go back to my room and get ready. Nebraska business and Brooklyn tan man had the roof covered and it was in good hands. I was grateful I had met them all, this eclectic crew, though the homeless Supermodel was a little unnerving because she reminded me of one of the worst nights of my life which had happened at that very hotel a few years ago with a girl kind of like her. I'll tell you about that tomorrow. It involved a hooker, maybe a boxcutter and definitely Mark Ebner so you know it'll be good... and really bad.
Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 12:30 AM