Hotel
Steinigestrasse, Gergary
He knocked hard on the door, probably harder than the other hotel guests might appreciate. He looked around as a couple doors opened down the hall. He wasn’t interested in explaining anything.
There was a longer pause, then the door opened. A disheveled, middle aged, not very handsome man in a hotel robe answered the door.
“Dom! You finally came to vis..”
“Don’t act like we’re old friends.”
“But we go way back. Took you long enough to come pay a visit. I mean besides all the plane and car rides together where you seemed to not notice me, like everybody else.”
“Oh, I knew you were there. I knew what I was doing.”
“That hurts, Dom.”
“Good. You have hurt a lot of people over the years. Speaking of, asshole...Where did the care packages go?”
Dom Ripaldi kept his voice calm, but there was a rage under it. No one on the NETC Seniors Reunion Tour had been happy to hear the news that Paul Quiront would be coming along with them. When they put together the exhibition matches, which had yet to even come close to selling out like Frankie said they would, they had been unable to interest any other NSTT retired players to join in on the fun. Which meant more Paul Quiront matches and interaction for everybody, to their joy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really? Because the desk concierge says you signed for them. We looked at the form, it’s your handwriting, Fuckface, even though no one could tell it was your name from that chicken scratch.”
“How would you know my handwriting? And you don’t need to call me names.”
“Are you really going to make me go through all this? We know your handwriting from when we would sign up for the training gym and NETC events. Just admit you took them.”
“I still don’t even know what you’re talking about, Dom.”
“The care packages sent by the NETC, that had all the comfort stuff from home. There was a package for each of us. The concierge said you used a luggage cart to get them up here. That you were going to get them all to us and ‘save them the trouble’. There’s video, you fucker. There’s witnesses...How could you possibly deny this?!”
“Oh...oh. Those. Oh right. Well, I got them for everyone for safekee…Hey! You can’t just barge into my room!”
But that was exactly what Dom did. He shoved Quiront aside none too gently. He looked around the suite. There were several of the boxes open by the small side room with the TV and sofa set. Some wrappers and empty bottles were around, but not as much to account for all the missing items from the packages, which they had been told would be jampacked full. One package, addressed to Alma Semmes, remained sealed, but the rest were roughly torn open.
“What the fuck?! Where’s the stuff?”
“It’s all there.”
“Bullshit. Boxes are open. Shit is missing. Where. The. Fuck. Is. The. Stuff, Paul?!”
Paul had closed the hallway door and stopped at the entry to the lounge/living space. He scooted forward, in a kind of mopey fashion as he entered the adjoining lounge room.
“Well...I wanted to check the contents. See, they felt light…”
“Yeah, they look really light. Where’s the stuff, dipshit?”
“Where is everyone else? How come it’s just you? I was hoping we could have a small victory party, you know...”
“What victory?! I drew the short straw to deal with your ass! WHERE’S THE STUFF!!”
“I...I might have sold or...or given some of it away. Traded...you know, like trading pins and stuff I traded...gave...gifted...some of it to some of the other NSTT players staying here...in the hotel...around. Some in the park…”
Dom was almost purple, he was raging so bad. However, he was also struck silent by the audacity of Paul so that he couldn’t even interrupt the weak excuses and admittance of guilt. He realized he needed to hear more. Paul needed to seal his guilt, although with just the two of them in here, it wouldn’t really stand up in any legal sense.
“And?”
“And, well...I was helping to promote us, you know. It seemed like the right thing to do. Frankie nor anybody in the NETC wasn’t doing anything like that. They really dropped the ball, you know? Nobody seems to give a shit that we’re here. Most of the people who attend our matches think they got tickets to see the younger NSTT players, they walk out halfway through...”
He had a point, but Dom wasn’t going to let him redirect this.
“This has nothing to do with Frankie or anyone in the NETC. Don’t put it on them. This is all fucking you. Classic, sneaky, shady, fucking royally You! You went down to grab all the care packages. You signed for them. You lied about them. You hid them in your room and you started handing shit out or consuming it like it was your own personal Winter Solstice!”
“How...how did you even find out about them?”
Dom couldn’t help but let out an involuntary laugh. It was like dealing with a toddler.
“Frankie told us they were coming! Not just you, but everyone knew they were arriving. Except guess what happens when we’re told they should be here?”
“You immediately assumed it was me. Wow, that’s really fair!”
“Of course, you fuckin’ idiot. Who else would it be? It just took a couple questions to confirm it. You fucked us all over once again. What a fuckin’ surprise! Are you seriously trying to turn this into you being the victim here? You are a classic gaslighter!”
“A what? What the fuck is that? Is this about my flatulence problem?”
“Well, what’s done is done. I’m gonna talk to hotel security, then have them contact the Steinigestrasse Police. I would think this is several hundred Markforints in theft.”
“What?! No! I just told you I was doing promotions for us.”
“Right. You ate and drank and gave away all our home care packages for promotional purposes. Right.”
Fact was, this wouldn’t really go that far. Dom and the rest of them knew there was no way they could get the police to care about this matter. What they could do was get Paul kicked off the tour. Frankie would probably agree at this point. Paul Quiront had been a disappointing draw for them, not that anyone had been a draw, even for all those who didn’t manage to get a ticket to the real NSTT matches in Centralis, Kannapolis, and now Steinigestrasse. There were still few takers, but again, losing a balding, fat, obnoxious jerk would be no big loss to a tour that was already a big loss in both budget and prestige to the NETC.
“Promotions, Dom! Promotions! Frankie ain’t doin’ it! You see...”
“Paul, you tell yourself whatever you want. You better pack up.”
Dom had gotten under control. He had a very determined look on his face now.
“Listen, I can give you guys the packages. I’ll go buy stuff to replace what’s missing…”
“Don’t bother. We can get more care packages. That’s not even the issue now. It’s your lying, stealing, pathetic ass. Enjoy your last time here and as a free man. Whatever minutes are left. You should probably get dressed, too.”
Dom walked out of the hotel room, Paul shouting after him.
He had enjoyed seeing Paul squirm. It wasn’t often that anybody could make a man with such zero conscience do that. Even if he wasn’t actually going to jail, he would be going out of their sight. At least Dominic hoped so.
