Beckett lost it.
“Melllllllllllllllllllllll!” he cried out in falsetto, sounding like a professional singer,
bucking like an equine as he exploded.
“Mmmmm…yes…that is it…mmmm…”
“Lord Jesus Christ…you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,”
Beckett said, rolling onto his back.
Mel laughed as Beckett suddenly clutched his chest and looked like he was struggling
to breathe. He had missed his calling. He was a pretty convincing actor.
“Stop, not funny Denzel,” she joked, poking him in the side.
“Get help Mel!” he whispered hoarsely.
She heard the stark fear in his voice and immediately realized that this was no prank.
She quickly dialled the front desk and asked to be patched through to Room 310. That was
where Steven, Beckett’s main bodyguard and driver was staying, same floor, four doors
down. He did not pick up. Beckett looked like he worsening. She panicked. She ran from the
room and headed to Steven’s room. She fell in her haste, got up and beat his door down.
“I’m coming!” was the shout from inside the room. He opened the door, he was
shirtless and in his boxers, hiding his erection behind the door.
In her subconscious Mel knew someone was in the room but she couldn’t focus on
that now. The minister of tourism was inside his suite butt naked and dying from an apparent
heart attack.
“It’s the minister, he’s having a heart attack,” she said, trying to keep her voice down
but failing miserably, the hysteria giving her urgent tone a high pitch.
“We have to rush to him to the nearest hospital. I’ll get us a police escort. Go to your
room and get dressed,” he said, taking charge of the situation as he looked at her nude body.
Mel hurried to her room. Steven retrieved his phone and made a quick call, arranging
a police escort to the hospital. His companion had started getting dressed from she heard him talking to Mel at the door. Mel thought she had kept her voice down, but she had heard
everything.
