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Now wasn’t the time to dredge this shit up.
    The limo stopped under an ornate overhang and Jay stepped out, walked to the side of the car, and opened the door.
    We were immediately accosted by an extremely well dressed, extremely agitated older black gentleman. He looked like he’d just stepped off the fucking Love Boat . Crisp white slacks, a blue coat festooned with gold buttons and gold trim on the shoulders, spotless white gloves, and a white and black captain’s hat covering short gray hair. His nametag read “Charles” and below that “Nashville, TN”.
    Jay moved next to me and pushed me back a bit.
    “You get right the hell on out of here, you son of a bitch!” Charles said forcefully, but not loud enough for anyone except for me and Jay to hear.
    “Uh, I have a reservation for a concierge suite?” I said, hoping that would calm him down.
    “Not you. Him!” He shoved a finger into Jay’s chest, hard. Jay winced, but took it.
    “Calm down, Charles,” said Jay. “I’m just here to drop off Mr. McKinnon.”
    “You son of a bitch. You goddamned son of a bitch. That’s bullshit! You’re here to push me, to push me straight over the edge. Well, I won’t let you!”
    Charles turned to me. “Is he selling to you, son? You better not be bringing that shit into my place of work!”
    “No! I mean… what?” I looked at Jay. “What the hell, Jay?”
    One of the Cast Members from the valet stand slowly approached. “Is there a problem, Charles?”
    Jay answered, looking at Charles. “No problem.” He turned to the valet. “If you could give me a hand with Mr. McKinnon’s luggage I’ll be on my way.”
    The Cast Member looked at Charles. “Uh, so can you please show Mr. McKinnon to the lobby, Charles?”
    Charles broke his death-ray stare-down with Jay, looked at me, looked at the luggage, looked at the valet, and changed his expression entirely.
    “Of course I can!” he beamed, his bright white teeth matching his bright white gloves. And then with more zest and kindness in his voice than I’d heard from anyone in a long time, he nearly shouted, “Welcome to The Beach Club, sir! Concierge check-in is at The Stone Harbor Club on the fifth floor. Let me bring you there!”
    I followed Charles to the front door of the hotel, looking back at Jay with a “what the fuck?” expression. Jay made the universal signal for “call me” and continued to help the valet unload my myriad assortment of heavy bags.
    Charles whisked me into the lobby, which was spacious and bright and pastel-colored, and filled with comfy-looking couches and wicker chairs. I loved it.
    We reached an elevator and stepped in. Charles pulled a key out of his pocket, which he inserted into a red lock near the top of the elevator’s control panel. He put a plastic keycard into a slot above the “five” button and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The button lit up, the door closed, and we started moving. But then he turned the key in the red lock and the elevator stopped. He turned to face me.
    “Son, I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here. I’m gonna try real hard to believe that you didn’t know the kind of man you were associating with back there. Because if you’re anything like him, you and I are gonna have some problems.”
    “Charles, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. Jay has been nothing but nice to me.”
    “That’s how he gets you! That’s how he draws you in!”
    An alarm started going off and Charles quickly turned the key and pulled it out of the lock. The alarm stopped and the elevator lurched upwards.
    “You need to stay away from that man, Mr. McKinnon. He is nothing but pure evil.”
    We reached the fifth floor. The door opened and Charles stepped out.
    “This way, sir,” he said, with a comforting warmth. This attitude flip-flopping was starting to freak me out.
    He led me to one of the two desks in front of The Stone Harbor Club, the concierge area of The Beach