Sergey Grekov and Vladimir Druganov found themselves back at the Marriott Marquis Hotel, this time on the front steps. It was Grekov's idea to pay that little shit Roday another visit again. He knew that Roday would not have gotten shit done in the span of three hours since their last meet-up but he was so pissed off with him that he wanted to shake that skinny kid's head till it came detached from the rest of his skinny body. It would not be a particularly difficult feat, given the size of Roday. Grekov glanced at the stoic Russian beside him who lumbered rather than walked and decided that he would leave the snapping of the limbs to Druganov. After all, it was his specialty.
They trudged up the stairs and reached the grand front doors of the Marriott Marquis. A bell boy smiled at them and admitted them into the luxurious four star hotel with a cheery "Welcome to the Marriott Marquis! Have a grand stay!" greeting. Ignoring him, the two Russian henchmen swept past him and approached the magnificent teak front desk which served as the reception area and which spanned the entire length of one of the walls of the lobby. Behind the front desk stood a tiny girl conversing with someone who was either a guest or a potential guest. This person was gesturing a lot and seemed like he was complaining about something.
This piece of information made no difference to Grekov who simply walked up and pushed the man out of his way, conveniently ending their conversation.
"Excuse me! I was in the middle of a—" began the man indignantly but stopped after taking in both Grekov and Druganov's attire and identical menacing expressions. He moved even further away and went so far as to sit on a velvet maroon couch some few feet away from the desk.
Grekov turned to the receptionist who had a startled look on her face and said, "Page for Roday. We want to see him. Now."
"Um Shawn is… I don't know. What-what is this about?"
"About me wanting to know if he needs a new face job because I'll be happy to rearrange his face for free." And if the receptionist had needed a more comprehensive explanation which she clearly didn't as her eyes grew wider in horror, Druganov smirked and punched his own cheek.
"Um…ok. Let me get a hold of Lucia Gomez. She handles all the part-time employees in this hotel. Give me a moment. Why don't you take a seat?" The receptionist gestured to the very couch the man was sitting on, much to his horror and he made himself scarce as he hurriedly got up and went out the front doors.
Druganov guffawed, doing it loud enough for the man to hear as he and Grekov moved over to the couch. They watched as the receptionist spoke quietly and quickly into the phone, glancing up from time to time at the two of them and looked back down at her desk whenever they made eye contact. Finally, she put down the phone and informed them that Lucia Gomez was on her way down to meet with them.
"Good," Grekov said gruffly and started whistling an old Russian melody as they waited.
***
When Lucia Gomez hung up after her call with Lauren the receptionist, she felt unfazed. So there were some "scary looking, foreign sounding and not to mention big-ass bald men" in the lobby, according to Lauren. Big deal. Back where she came from, there were people like them everyday around her and she learned to be tough and strong. It wasn't easy being a girl in Argentina, especially if you were young and muy caliente, which Lucia definitely considered herself to be.
But when she heard that they were interested in Shawn, that was a different matter altogether. While she thought that Shawn needed to toughen up a lot, she still held a soft spot for him as he reminded her of a much skinnier, less tanned, older version of her eighteen-year-old brother, Esteban, whom she had left behind in Buenos Aires. She was afraid for Shawn. What the hell had he gotten himself into? she wondered. Why was he running with this crowd? These were her thoughts as she took the elevator down to meet the men.
As she exited the elevator, she saw the unfriendly men seated on the couch almost immediately. They had a certain aura about them, one of menace and Lucia knew at once that they were very dangerous men. Her heart sank, thinking about Shawn's safety. She went up to them and said curtly, "What do you want?"
" 'What do you want?' Shouldn't you be more polite to your guests Ms Gomez? We will try that again."
"No," Lucia said firmly, "we will not. Why are you looking for Shawn? What has he done to you?"
Grekov smirked. He liked this Gomez girl. Hell, if he wasn't here on official business, he would mix a whole lot of pleasure with this meeting. Maybe feel her up a little. From where he was seated, her ass was just begging for a squeeze. But instead, he tried to control the rush of blood to his most prized body part and said, "Roday has something that belongs to my boss. We thought we'd come here and ah…see if we can get things moving quickly."
"What is Shawn holding on to?"
"That, chica, is for me to know and you to hopefully never find out what your wonderful Shawn does in his spare time." Grekov stood up, followed by Druganov and this overshadowed Lucia. But she did not scare, nor did she let the dismay show in her face that Shawn had gotten into a lot of trouble. Instead, she stood her ground and said "Shawn's not here. And I suggest that from now on, you don't come down here and harass my employees. You know where the exit is." Lucia nodded at the front doors and waited to watch them leave.
Realizing that Lucia could not be intimidated easily unlike the receptionist and not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves, Grekov told Druganov in Russian that it was time to go. He couldn't achieve much without Shawn in front of him. Druganov turned and walked away but Grekov stood still, staring Lucia down who refused to look away.
Finally, Grekov told Lucia, "You're lucky we're doing this in the lobby. Tell Shawn Druganov owes him a punch in his skinny face and he owes us… a lot. As for coming back here, we will return if Shawn doesn't do what our boss wants. Tell him this chica. Adios."
Grekov glanced behind Lucia for one last peek at that ass and turned around to follow his partner out the front doors of the Marriott Marquis.
As soon as they were out of the doors, Lucia sank onto the deep maroon couch and knew that she needed to talk to Shawn. Talk some sense into him. Whatever that kid had gotten himself into, Lucia wanted to help and with these thoughts in mind, she went back to the lift lobby, entered an elevator and pressed the button for the nineteenth floor.