Hotel California. Uh, I mean Hotel Indigo: LaSheeka

Not LaSheeka

(‘Sheeka’ is much more attractive and fiercer) but damn close.

(LaSheeka was the Night Manager)

One night she got pissed off (she had a hair-trigger—I loved her for that)

“Why don’t you just get a fucking job?!”

(She Screamed at some pan-handler at Hotel Indigo late one night.)

I just walked away, but said to her, “Baby, calm down.”

She replied, “These idiots piss me off.”

Had to concur.

LaSheeka and I worked Night Shift at Hotel Indigo for probably at least a year.

We became instant ‘Fast Friends.”

More Instant Karma. (Seems to be a pattern with me and Indigo Girls. See other related posts in the series.)

We ‘understood’ one another and neither one of us ever put up with bullshit.

Because neither one of us gave a fuck.

We just did our respective jobs.

And LaSheeka was never hesitant to tell a drunken refugee “Guest” from Beale Street that he/she was full of shit and needed to just go the fuck to bed. And STFU!

We spent many long nights swapping tales.

I told my stories.

She told hers.




Part 2: More Me And LaSheeka, Indigo Girl.

Dumb Blondes


LaSheeka hits me up on the handheld radio:

“Lance come to the lobby; we have a situation.”

“Okay. On my way.”

Got there. Discovered some young blonde damsel in distress, Sobbing.

“What’s the matter Girl?”  I asked.

(LaSheeka looked at me and rolled her eyes—yeah, I caught that look—she and I were mind melded—almost mentally joined at the hip.

Blonde says, “My boyfriend has abused me. He is drunk. I just want him to go away.”

“What room you in?” I asked


“Ok. Let’s go there.”

“Please don’t hurt him. And don’t call the police. I just want him to go away.”

“No worries Lil Lady.”

We arrived at the room.

I confronted Mister Asshole.

(Who was Half- Naked and Barefooted.)

“Hey  Dude! Guess what? You are out of here! Come with me!”

“Can I at least get my shit?”

“No! Come with me Asshole!”

He did and I threw him out.

Onto the Memphis Streets. At two o’clock in the morning.

Over his protestations.

Eventually he came wandering back into the lobby of Hotel Indigo.

I looked at LaSheeka and said,

“Call Memphis Finest before I kill this mother-fucker.”

She did.

Police showed up.

And sorted it all out.

Asshole and GF made up.

And went back to their room.

(Fucking dumb broad.)

Wasting my time.

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