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Prologue
The Staff
The iconic Scarlet Hotel dated back to the roaring 20s when Friedrich Holland came to the US and invested in the business with his silent partners, with the intention of providing luxury to their high-paying guests. And while the décor had remained steadfastly classic through the decades, an homage to a long-gone era, the world around it had moved on. No more flappers and bootleggers. Jazz, swing, and big band music had shifted over to make room for punk, pop, rock, and rap.
Nope. The world was not what it used to be, but one thing had remained the same… wealth.
Celebrities, in particular, were what Gerald lived for. He sighed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to keep the circulation going. While he stood still at his post at the door, waiting for approaching guests, his mind was busy dreaming wistfully of his lost youth. He wasn’t as old as the hotel, but he was no spring chicken either. He probably should’ve retired by now, but honestly, what the hell else was he supposed to do with his time? His sister kept inviting him to Bingo nights at her retirement center, but that wasn’t his scene. Instead, he much preferred to rub shoulders with the rich and famous.
He snorted. He wasn’t allowed to rub their shoulders—or any other part of them for that matter, as the hotel had a reputation to maintain—but that was besides the point. Gerald got to breathe the same air as them for a brief moment of time, and to him, that was more than worth it.
Gerald saw the most incredible things in this job. Nobody ever paid attention to the doorman. Even wearing his vibrant red coat, he could stand at his station by the front door, arms behind his back, and it was like he simply blended into the surroundings. He might as well be in the forest wearing camo. He overheard private conversations, saw intimate touches. He'd even witnessed a carjacking once, right out in front of the hotel. That was exciting.
The air began to cool as the sun dipped behind the high-rises. This was Gerald's favorite time of day, when night descended, the neon lights turned on, and the riffraff came out to play. He could feel the anticipation building. He never knew what to expect, but that was half the fun.
From the corner of his eye, he saw movement inside the hotel lobby, and he hurried to open the door as quickly as his arthritic joints would allow.
Gerald was practiced at keeping his expression neutral, no matter who he saw. He’d opened the door for billionaires, for famous athletes, even royalty. He’d even met the bestselling author Jordan Kepler on several occasions, when he needed some privacy to finish a book before a deadline.
Regardless of how professional Gerald prided himself to be, however, he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping when he saw who walked through the door. “Max Shepherd!” he gasped, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. Why hadn't someone told him the movie star had checked in? The man looked even more handsome than he did on the big screen, with his hazel eyes and wavy brown hair. “I’ve seen all your movies!” Gerald gushed before he could stop himself.
Luckily, Max didn’t seem to mind the attention. He was probably used to it. He chuckled and offered his hand, the door closing behind him. “Always glad to meet a fan,” he said amicably.
“Not just a fan. A superfan,” Gerald corrected. His heart was beating so fast that he had to double-check he wasn't having a heart attack. He was certain his palms were sweaty, but he hoped his gloves would contain the worst of it while he shook Max’s hand. He didn’t want to miss his opportunity to ask his question. “Tell me something, I’ve always wanted to know… that on-screen chemistry you had with Peter McNaughton in When Stars Fall… did it extend off the set as well?” He held his breath, waiting for the answer.
Max’s smile was polite but also a little sly. “Now, now, I’m not one to kiss and tell… but I won't deny it.” Then he gave a little wink and chuckled, and Gerald laughed along, like they now had their own inside joke. They were practically best friends.
Max, still smiling softly, seemed to pause. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Gerald,” the doorman said proudly, reaching to shake Max’s hand a second time. This was the highlight of his life, by far. Gods, he couldn’t wait to tell everyone who he’d been hanging out with.
“Gerald,” Max repeated, all charm. “Can I call you Gerry?" A nickname! "I was hoping that you could help me.”
“Absolutely! Anything, it’s yours.”
Max Shepherd glanced over his shoulder up and down the sidewalk, then he leaned in, as if he were sharing a secret, and nudged Gerald with his elbow, and the doorman glowed. “See, I’ve never had the chance to spend much time in town before, and I’m only here filming for a couple months, but since I don’t know anyone here yet, I was hoping you could direct me to a little evening entertainment.”
“Oh, yes! Absolutely. You’re in luck. The symphony has an evening performance in the park. Their theme is Midsummer Night’s Dream…” Max seemed to think it over briefly before shaking his head. “Or if that’s not your cup of tea, there’s a movie theater a couple blocks over, and their VIP section serves dinner and drinks to you right in your seat.”
Max nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. “That does sound nice, but I spend quite a lot of my time in the production side, so I’m looking to take a break from screens. Maybe… I was thinking… more along the lines of…” He paused, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I was wondering more about adult entertainment. You know?"
“Adult?" Gerald asked, his eyebrows dipping. “As in…”
Max waved his hand as if it were no big deal. "Oh, you know, I'm not picky. Maybe a bar or a strip club, maybe something a little… more.”
“I'm sure I wouldn't know…” Gerald said slowly, though of course he knew. He knew everything there was to know about this town. He waited until a woman walking her dog passed before he leaned even closer, catching a whiff of Max's cologne. "There is a club down by the river. It's hard to find, tucked in at the back of an industrial complex. It's called The Bar Cherry, but I would caution you to be careful. Their clientele have been known to get a bit rowdy. A few football players trashed the place last year after too many drinks."
Max's eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sounds delightful.”
Against his better judgment, Gerald gave him directions on how to find the club. Max could probably hold his own, but it was such a very different image than what he portrayed on screen and social media. Gerald didn't want to lead him astray, so he issued one last warning. "Are you sure?" he asked. "If you need an escort, I get off work at midnight. I could always…" He gestured, pointing from himself to Max, implying he could go along.
Max patted him on the shoulder firmly. "I'll be all right, but I appreciate the offer. Maybe next time."
He had Gerald hail a cab for him, and a yellow car glided up in front of the hotel. As the doorman opened the back door for him, Max paused, his hand resting on the door. "I'm sure I can trust you to keep this between us. Can I, Gerry?"
"Oh yes, absolutely. My lips are sealed." Gerald made a motion of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. "Mum's the word." He was debating about telling his friends to call him Gerry from now on. Maybe he could have his name legally changed.
Max slapped him on the shoulder then slipped a couple bills into the doorman's front pocket. "Very much appreciated." He straightened out his jacket and smoothed his hair back. "How do I look?"
