The Chosen

Dan B. plowed half his beer in the first gulp, contemplating the question. “Come to think of it, yeah. Like people talking out in the hall and walking around. And a lot of ruckus too, but it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs, not upstairs.”

“Me too.” Lee winced when he sipped his Bud. But he’d heard more than that, or at least he thought he had. Things thumping around; thunking, laughter. A couple of times he was sure he’d heard someone shriek. Just dreams, he tried to convince himself. Who would be shrieking at a high-class private resort like The Inn?

“In fact,” Dan B. continued, “one night last week I woke up to hang a piss, and I thought I heard someone shriek.”

Lee looked at him.

“And a few nights ago I thought I heard someone walking around the hall. So I looked out, and saw someone going down the stairs, walking away from our rooms.”

“Maybe it was Feldspar,” Lee suggested. “Vera told me his room’s on the end.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s funny. I’ve only seen him once or twice since we got here. And that Kyle motherfucker. Where’s his room?”

“I don’t know. On the upper floors, I guess.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. The upper floors are all the higher priced suites. Why give one of those to an employee when there’re still several unused rooms on our floor?’’

Lee shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe it was your mom, looking for a fresh doorknob.”

“No, no. Now I remember. It was your sister. She got lost on her way to the smokehouse.”

Lee tried to think of a suitable derogatory comeback, but in the next instant, Dan B. gently poked him with his elbow and said under his breath: “Check this out. These old sticks over here are eyeballing us like we got no heads.”

Lee discreetly took another wincing sip of his Bud, taking a quick glance right. It was true. The old, rustic-looking men at the other side of the bar were staring at them.

“They probably got the hots for you, buddy,” Dan B. suggested and got up off his wobbly stool. “A cute gal like you, shit. Excuse me while I go contribute to the Waynesville reservoir.”

Dan B. walked off for the men’s room, while Lee smirked. What he needed after a long shift was a good beer, like a Maibock or a Blue Herren Ale, not this limp, fizzy domestic swill. And one thing he definitely didn’t need was being stared at by a bunch of drunk old codgers.

Then he nearly jumped off his stool at the surprise slap to his back. “If it’s not my favorite fat boy,” greeted Kyle, who’d been sitting in the opposite corner. “How goes it, slim? I didn’t know they had an all-you-can-eat pasta bar here.”

Kiss my fat ass, Lee wished he had the gall to reply. Kyle slapped him on the back again, downed a shot of Jack, and smacked his lips. “How come you’re sittin’ here bending this bar stool when you’re supposed to cleaning up room service?”

“Kiss my fat ass, Kyle,” Lee finally summoned the courage to suggest. “I’m not doing that anymore; it’s not my job. And you can go ahead and fire me if you don’t like it. I don’t give a shit.”

“Relax, Oprah, relax. I got my own crew squared away so I won’t be needing you back there breaking the floor tile anymore.” Kyle raised his hand. “Hey, keep, get my buddy here a beer on my tab. A light beer.” Then he laughed and went on, “And of course I realize