As Sam sat behind her desk, she imagined a battle between the two men sitting across from one another in the restaurant leading off of the lobby. An Arabic battle, of course. "But you are not listening to me, you have not listened all along. That is why I killed your brother." She translated this in her mind. This was how she not only entertained herself but kept herself fluent in 7--almost 8--languages. "If you call that a fair action to take just because you don't think someone is listening, I should have murdered my sister-in-law long ago." "Please. Don't bring your respectable wife into this. What I am saying--" "What do you know of my wife?! I'm checking in?" She snapped out of her fantasy. "Yes. Can I see some ID?" Samantha blinked once, then told herself to keep it cool. Certainly she had seen her fair share of fame working at the best hotel in the D.C. area, but this was a shock even compared to handing the key cards over to the Carters. But what was Cyndi Lauper doing in D.C.? Considering herself a pretty big fan, Sam was sure she'd know if Cyndi had a concert coming up. Or any other kind of engagement in D.C. She liked to prepare herself for these types of things, because chances were, the more famous, the more likely it was they were coming to the Fairmount. "And, we have you here under...Ms. O'Shaughnassey?" Classy, Sam thought. "Yes, that's right." Cyndi handed over her golden credit card. As sam swiped, she wondered who'd be in and out to visit. Who would she dine with? Sing for? She wasn't even accompanied by a body guard or agent. Maybe they were waiting in the car? As Lacey O'Shaughnassey rolled her suitcase across the tile and headed upwards in the elevator, Sam anxiously waited to see who would follow. But there was no one. Did they come in some other entrance? Was she meeting someone? Sam looked through the registry while humming "Time After Time" to herself, translating the lyrics first into Italian, "Se sei perso puoi guardare e mi troverai..." Then Dutch, "keer op keer." Some said it was a problem she had with so many languages swimming through her head, that she couldn't stay in one place long enough. Sam just liked to exercise her mind. The Arabic battle was getting steamy by now, the two men were, according to Sam, planning a duel for midnight out in the parking lot. "A fight to the death!" One said. The other nodded in compliance. It was set. And back in the real world, there were no famous people--not of Cyndi's caliber, that is--staying or set to stay in the Fairmount this weekend. Yet here she was, Cyndi Lauper, in the flesh...
She hadn't practiced her French in a while. This couple sitting down would be French diplomats. Before she could get started on their most personal life details, Cyndi was back. "Where is there to eat around here? I mean, outside of the hotel.."
"Well, there's a few places I can recommend, would you like take-out menus? What kind