Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught Read Online Free PDF Page B

the floor. Budd looked back over his shoulder but the double doors were already closed. Nevertheless, he smiled. “Good for you, girl,” he said to himself.
    When he faced forward again, he found that a mauve-suited attendant had entered through a wooden door opposite the bank of elevators and was holding out his rucksack. The Stetson was resting on top. “Here you are, sir.”
    “Thanks very much,” Budd replied, sweeping back his hair and pulling on the hat. He hung his pack from his left shoulder.
    An elevator chimed and its doors opened to reveal Stephen Doring. Budd stepped inside and gave him a friendly smile. “Are you following me around, or is this the only elevator that works?”
    “They all work, sir. You’re just lucky. To which floor can I take you? Your suite?”
    “Nah, screw it. First floor, the bar. Reckon I’m gonna get loaded tonight.”
    “Very well, sir,” Stephen said as he reached to push the corresponding button.
    Budd reached across and stopped him. He’d heard the wooden doors from the restaurant open. For a few moments, he listened to the sound of approaching footsteps, high-heeled shoes tapping on the marble floor tiles. There was a flash of red in the elevator doorway, tanned skin and dark hair.
    “ Monsieur Ashby, would you like to have a drink?” Juliette asked.
    Budd smiled. “Sure thing, princess.”
     
     
9
    The bar was as Budd had expected.
    It was finished in the same style as countless other plush hotels all around the world. At least, it was the way they always looked in the brochures. In the center of the large room was a circular counter, manned by countless mauve-suited bar staff. Like planets around a large star, numerous tables expanded out until they neared the edges of the room; around the perimeter, shielded from onlookers by paneled wood partitions, private sections ran along the walls.
    Inside these private areas, Budd had spied by peeking around a corner, were comfortable seats and long tables, as well as a mauve-suited attendant to fetch and carry the desired beverages. Around the entire bar, the lighting was even and strong. The ambience was enhanced by a tuxedo-wearing pianist who played his black grand piano, making his way through a medley of pop and light classical pieces.
    Juliette sputtered as she spoke. “He is such an, an-”
    Budd quickly tried to finish her sentence. “Jerk?”
    “No. Worse.”
    “Asshole?”
    “Yes, he is such an asshole,” Juliette said vehemently. She downed the last of her whiskey and her face contorted into a grimace of discomfort. Budd could tell it was not her drink of choice, but as long as she was happy to knock them back, he was happy to keep them coming. He gave a nod to the barman, who served up another, almost instantly.
    “He told me not to be upset, that he is a star, and that it was expected of him to do that kind of thing. He said he has a reputation to keep. I am such a fool, I thought he was the one.”
    Budd smiled wistfully. “I thought that about my wife, Julia. I thought that right up ‘til she left me for the local shoe-shiner. He only had one leg, and a glass eye. I guess he must’ve been ‘The One.’”
    Budd felt Juliette looking at him and so he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of his Scotch; he knew she was examining him, staring at the faint lines and greyish stubble on his face. When he opened them, he found that she was still looking at him, although the intensity had faded and her face was lit up with a smile. “Did your wife really leave you for a one-eyed, one-legged shoe-shiner?”
    “He was a midget, too.”
    “You lie,” Juliette said with a laugh.
    “Gospel truth.”
    “So, you are single, Monsieur Ashby?”
    “Hard to believe, ain’t it?” Budd answered with a wink.
    “Do you ever know what love is?”
    “What do I look like to you, a little, old, wise Chinese oracle?”
    Juliette laughed again, blushing a little. “I mean, how does anyone really know for sure? How