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The bellman smiles mildly, taps the button, then folds his gloved hands. Kyle gives him an apologetic wince as they step inside, the doors close, and the elevator slowly ascends.
Kyle speaks quietly to Brock. “I need to find him tonight.”
“You’re gonna shit when you see the size of the suite,” says Brock. “Even got obscuring shutters that cover the windows, if I’m remembering it right. Am I remembering it right?” he asks the bellman, who smiles plainly and nods. “Yep, thought so.”
Kyle closes his eyes, jaw tightening with frustration.
The doors open to a triangular atrium of sorts, elevators located in its center. Only six doors, two on each wall, lead to what Kyle presumes to be the suites. Apparently knowing the way, Brock heads straight for one of the doors, letting himself in. Kyle steps inside behind Brock, who makes his way into the massive, pristinely-kept suite complete with a kitchen, dining area, and wall-to-wall glass windows overlooking Vegas.
Kyle pays it little mind, not exactly in the mood to be awestruck. “Do you think the owner even lives here?” he asks. “Does her son? Do you know?”
“No idea. Probably up in a penthouse if they do.” Brock flicks on a kitchen light, squints when he realizes how bright it is, then shuts it off in favor of another. Decorative sconces lining the walls come on, emitting a soft glow. “Better.”
“You seem to know your way around this place,” says Kyle as he measures his patience. “Weren’t you only here one time?”
“I was. And that one time happened to last for a month and a half.” He rummages through the kitchen, checking drawers. “Wifey and I were goin’ through a rough patch. My dad had a project goin’ on. I chose to stay and help with it than be home gettin’ the bible—” He suppresses a burp, fist pressed to his mouth. “—whacked over my head, smack, smack, smack. Jessica loves to do that, knockin’ the God into me. Or the Devil out. I love the woman. Even if she doesn’t love me.” He opens one cabinet, then another. “The hell do they keep the glasses?”
Kyle comes up to his side and presses shut the next cabinet Brock tries to open. “If you stayed here a month, then surely you know something about where Elias might be. That is the only reason I’m here. To find him. Not eat bad room service or be your gambling buddy or whatever you got on your mind.”
“Fuck gambling. I hate gambling. Don’t you want to kick back a little first? Hang with your old buddy? Hang with me?”
“I need to find Elias.”
“And then what?”
Kyle stops. “Huh?”
“What happens after you find your Prince Charming?” He leans against the counter, glassy eyes on Kyle’s. “Then I’m out of your life again? Used me just to get your Elias back? Just for a ride to Vegas? Don’t you have any appreciation for what I’m doin’ here? For you?”
It’s instant, the pulsing waves of indignation that flood into Kyle’s system from Brock’s. Instant and asphyxiating. If there’s anything about Brock that certainly hasn’t changed since they were kids, it’s his crushing insecurities. Kyle was a fool to think twenty-seven years was enough to outgrow them.
Still, maybe a little appreciation is warranted. “Thanks.”
Brock makes a face. “That’s it? ‘Thanks’?”
“I do appreciate it. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be stuck at home right now, emotional and frustrated and lost. I wouldn’t have even known where to start looking for Elias.”
“Seriously? Haven’t you ever heard of Google? What the hell, man? You even had his full name.”
“I did look him up,” insists Kyle. “He is a ghost, no results, nothing. You have any idea how many Trujillos exist?”
Brock seems to find that strange for a moment. “Maybe it’s his mother.” He moves away from the counter up to the island where a row of three barstools sit. He slides onto one with half a grunt, folds his arms on the island. “I can relate to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“If she’s anything like my old man, she pro’ly doesn’t want to risk her son doin’ anything stupid, tainting the name of her business, gettin’ out to the press. So she eliminated his presence online completely. I’ve had my own issues.” He shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Phew, I was a pain in my dad’s ass back in my twenties. Be glad you weren’t a part of my life back then, Kyle—shoot, I’d’ve taken you straight down, all the way down to trouble town.” He lets out a sudden laugh, looks up at Kyle. “The mess you’re talkin’ to right now, this drunken-ass mess, it’s nothin’ compared to what I used to be.”
“Elias isn’t like that, though,” says Kyle suddenly. “There’s no reason for his mother to hide him like that.”
