Blood Bath

LAYTON

I totally stood her up. Stood Annie up. There was no doubt in my mind there would be hell to pay for that. Before I went home, I was going to have to come up with a solid plan and a fucking good apology.

The hotel the receptionist told me about was a plain looking brick building with a faded red awning over the entrance and an actual red carpet outside. A doorman with a black hat on stood outside, opening the door with a sweep of his arm, a smile and a gruff, “Welcome to the Ideal, sir.”

As I walked into the lobby, I didn’t know if the place was—as the name suggested—ideal. But it was very nice. It was an old world charm kind of hotel, complete with golden curtain rails and a sweeping staircase covered by a plush emerald carpet.

There were modern elements incorporated as well. I knew without having to ask that the nightly price tag was going to be steep. Such a place in this part of town was sure to cost a pretty penny. But I didn’t mind. I just wanted to get to my room so I co