In the morning he’d groaned. The hangover was massive and when he’d gone to the windows to open the curtains, the sun blasted in like daggers to his eyes. He jerked them closed, wincing, then went to splash his face. After three glasses of water, he hit the shower. That helped a little. After he got out, another glass of water washed two ibuprofen down. As he shaved, he could see his eyes were bloodshot. That wouldn’t make anyone think of him as a good employment prospect so when he finished shaving, he put some eyedrops in. A few minutes later, most of the red was gone.

Back in the bedroom, he saw it was after nine. Too late for any of the tours for today. That was a disappointment. He was kind of interested in the Hoover Dam tour. No matter. He dressed and went down to get some breakfast. Maybe there were other reunion members who had decided not to go on any of the tours.

After helping himself to pancakes, eggs, ham and a bowl of fresh fruit, he ended up sitting alone. No one else was in there with their placards on. The waitress brought him coffee and orange juice and after he ate, he was at a loss for what to do. He didn’t want to spend any money. He could take a walk along the strip. Stores would be opening up about now. And it was always fun to go into the casinos and see their decorations and design. He’d heard the Venetian was a marvel.

Dwight went up to his room, put on sneakers, and left. There was no way he wanted to walk long distances in his dress shoes. It turned out to be a good morning. It felt good to get outside and move. He bought a hat at a small shop to shade his eyes and keep the sun from baking his head. The Venetian was as promised. How did they paint the ceilings to look so much like the real sky? Aside from an overpriced ice cream, he bought nothing. He wasn’t a high-end retail shopper, clothing from Walmart was usually good enough for him. And, the prices were astronomical. Who could afford that?

Back out on the sidewalk, he wandered along the street, looking into shop windows and watching the tourists walk by. His thoughts turned to his money problem. Ten grand. Could he ask Jean for it? He certainly couldn’t ask Dawn, she’d laugh in his face. Maybe if he explained it to Jean. He’d promise to pay it back. Her reaction to him last night made it unlikely. Unless he made up to her. That wouldn’t be much of a stretch. She was normally a friendly person. They’d got along well until he’d left. Jean was easy to talk to and sympathetic. Would she give him a hand? For old time’s sake?

How could he arrange that? Dwight sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy. And it wasn’t going to happen if he wasn’t with her. He turned back to the hotel. If he was going to convince Jean and get job leads, he couldn’t be out here. He needed to be where the reunion was. By the time he got back to the hotel, he was sweaty from the heat. He went up and took a second shower and put on fresh clothes. He stopped at the gift shop after he went downstairs and bought a liter of water. Better this than to pay for it and have to tip a waiter. Then he went out to the pool area where there was a shady section with tables and umbrellas where he claimed a spot that let him see people passing by.

He’d brought his notebook and pen and spent the time checking emails and making notes about job possibilities. Dwight checked his phone at the ding of an incoming message. He pulled it up. It was from Jimmy, reminding him of his debt. How the hell did Jimmy get his email? He deleted the message, but his adrenaline had already shot up. His hands shook as he took a swig from the water bottle. If Jimmy could find his email, he could find his apartment. Hell, he even knew he’d left Boston. What kind of organization did he have, anyway?

Dwight drummed his fingers on the table. It was getting hot out here anyway. He went inside where the blast of cold air as he opened the door was a shock. But it felt good. He hadn’t realized how hot it had gotten out there. Dwight went to the lobby to sit. Maybe he’d see reunion people and chat. In the meantime, he’d have to figure out how to make nice with Jean.

Norman Heller was the first person he recognized. “Hey Norm,” he called out as Norm walked by.

He turned to see who called. Norm grinned. “Hey, Dwight.” He walked over and shook Dwight’s hand. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Just hanging out. It’s nice not to be on the run every second.”

Norm sat in the armchair next to Dwight. “I hear ya. I spend entirely too much time in hotels for my job. They’ve got me travelling all the time.”

“Really. Who are you working for?”

“The DOD. I do quality control for them, checking up on contractors all over the world.”

“You don’t say. You like it?”

Norm shrugged. “It sounded great when I started, and I enjoyed it for a while. Now,” he shook his head, “it’s a drag, flying all over.”

“That’s too bad. I’m thinking of moving on from my job.”

“What are you doing?”

“City of Boston project planning. It’s okay, but I think I can do better.”

“Well.” Norm scratched his head. “I can send you the HR department number. There may be call for a project planner.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks.”

Norm pulled out his phone and did a search. “Yeah, here it is. What’s your email?”

Dwight gave it to him. “Thanks. Mind if I take your picture to go with your email and phone number?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Uh.” He looked a little concerned, Dwight thought. “Yeah. Okay.” He looked directly into Dwight’s phone as Dwight took the picture.

“Got it. Thanks. The number on the site is good for you?”

“Yeah. It’s right.” He stood up. “I’m meeting some people. Good to see you.”

“Yes. See you around this weekend.” Dwight stood up and shook hands. “Thanks for the contact.”

“Glad to help.”

Dwight watched as Norm walked out of the lobby and to the elevator. He sat back down. That was a good contact Dwight thought as he looked at Norm’s message. With luck, things would pan out. He closed out of the email and put the phone back in his pocket. When he wrote to the HR office, he’d mention Norm. Couldn’t hurt.

The afternoon moved along with him catching people as they walked by. Soon, he spotted Brandon Rivers. “Hey, Brandon.”

Brandon stopped and turned. “Dwight!” He came over to where Dwight was sitting. “What did you think about the police interview?”

Dwight shook his head. “Interview?”

“Yeah. When I got back from lunch, there was a message on my hotel phone. Had to go to a ballroom the hotel had set aside and talk to the cops about where we were last night.”

Dwight, puzzled, asked, “Why?”

“Oh crap, you don’t know?” Brandon sat down next to Dwight. “Dude, Justin Romero was killed sometime last night. Word is all over the hotel. He was found in the gym this morning. The sauna, actually.”

Dwight felt a pang of grief. He’d known Justin, of course. Working with him on getting supplies for his projects. “Damn. How’d he die?”

Brandon shrugged. “Police aren’t saying. Word is…” he gave Dwight a hard look, “that Jean found the body.”

That rocked Dwight. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s the rumor. The cops aren’t saying.”

Dwight sighed. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen Jean all day. “I have no idea. Where’s this room?”

Brandon told him and stood up. “I guess they’re calling in everyone from the reunion. It goes pretty fast, though.”

“Thanks.” Dwight stood and shook hands. “See you around.”

Brandon nodded and headed off. Dwight started for the room. What has Jean gotten herself into now?

Next Chapter: Alternate Dwight Story Chapter Eight