THE GOLD ROOM

The Overlook Hotel's Gold Room was the venue's jewel in its crown, its magnum opus, its pièce de résistance.

The year was 1928 and whether they knew it or not all occupants of the hotel were fully lockdowned in the Overlook until mid January at the earliest. Any hopes of escaping from the place since the snow outside had fallen so heavily were quickly dashed when many of the inhabitants of the luxury rooms checked in early to mid-December for their Christmas breaks.

Frantic telephone calls were made as the Overlook become something of a temporary city island unto itself, ensconced securely in the Rocky Mountains as the guests reassured anxious relatives, friends and businesses that they would soon be back once the roads were safe to navigate once again.

A few frustrated men and women took it upon themselves to arrange treks from the Overlook back into civilisation and though the resident staff hoped for the best, they feared the worst after a few days of not hearing anything back from them.

The reality was that the hotel was fully stocked with food and drink until March with all supplies the guests required. Alcohol was also not a problem either as prohibition seemed to have been forgotten about high up in the Overlook where the law had little time to check the comings and goings of some rich guests with abundant amounts of privilege. Besides, there were a few custodians of the law imbibing liquor themselves happily without scrutiny in this winter Babylon.

Of course, a few people had found their way into the Overlook for reasons other than money. Typically sex or work. Sometimes both.

Dutch Daniels was one such type. He had got in deep with an heiress one night after he was attempting to hitch hike his way out of Boulder, Colorado. It helped that he had an ample appendage which compensated for his somewhat terse personality but he accepted his gift for what it was. Social mobility was one thing but being able to impress in the bedroom was another.

Only thing was the heiress he was now sleeping with was hysterically insecure and frequently threatened to cry assault if he even attempted to leave her at any stage.

"I know your type. Money isn't enough for you. You want to be forever moving through the night like a coyote," she'd said to him portentously one night when they'd had one of their increasingly vicious arguments.

She wasn't far off the mark though. Dutch was someone who was born with a feeling that he deserved better than the shitty hand he'd been dealt in life. He was quite happily prepared to compromise his morals and his loyalties to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Now in the Overlook, he found he could easily move up the social ranks far beyond even the heiress and win the favour of all sorts of rich and powerful people who would gather in the gold room each night for drinks, dances and drunken chats.

Tonight he'd left Katherine to her opioids and paranoia in their hotel room while he schmoozed with the elite downstairs.

He had started the evening talking the ear off some guy who had advised Warren G. Harding, the 29th President of the United States of America who seemed genuinely fascinated in Dutch's enthusiastic sales pitch.

"I got this idea I could fix America if only we could teach the poor how to make money in schools. They never teach the brokest in society how to secure the bag. It's an injustice really."

That was, until he didn't.

Later, one other guy who was close friends with Andrew Carnegie humoured Dutch for a good few hours about his ideas for financial education in schools before he eventually returned to his room, leaving the Boulder born man alone at the bar.

Staring at his reflection in the large gold plated mirror opposite where he was sitting, Dutch studied his own face and found it alien to him. He didn't recognise who he had become after all these years. The identity he once clearly thought he had was no longer recognisable. He was changing with the times and it showed. That young, wide-eyed kid was now gone and had been replaced by a handsome, if world weary looking type of guy. The face of America in 1928 - for better or worse. Mostly worse.

"Where are you, Dutch?"

Though his reflection didn't answer him, the bartender did and he answered to the name of Lloyd.

"Can I get you another, Mr Daniels?" he asked politely.

"I'm alright, Lloyd. I better get back to my lady upstairs before she presses charges against me for ignoring her."

"If you'll permit me. There's an amazing moon out tonight. You should take a look if you can before you head to bed."

Smiling, Dutch nodded in a grateful fashion.

"Thanks, Lloyd. I'll go take a look at the big cheese."

Watching Dutch leave the gold ballroom, Lloyd smiled wryly to himself as he cleaned the last empty glass of the night.

When Katherine Goldsmith woke up in her bed alone, her worst suspicions appeared to have finally come true.

Not only had yet another blizzard cyclone descended from the skies to dump a year's worth of snow over them but her man was gone. The two events seemed symbiotic to her mind. She'd expected Dutch to leave her at some point but she just never knew exactly from night to night when it would be. Now it seemed it had finally happened. Dutch had finally deserted her as she always feared he would.

Wandering down to the vast hotel lobby/entrance area of the Overlook where the large frosted windows elevated the sense of bright snowy whiteness from outside, Katherine made inquiries with some of the staff as to Dutch's whereabouts but no-one appeared to have any real idea. The claustrophobia of the hotel had done funny things to some of the guests in this winter season and it wasn't improbable for some to just up and leave in a state of sheer desperation.

Did he hate her that much that he'd risk leaving in the deep of winter, risking his own life to make a clean break? It hurt her feelings to think she had driven him to his possible death in the cold but under the somewhat seedy situation they had met, she didn't want to risk her family's prestigious reputation either reporting his disapearance to the authorities.

She hid her pain behind a pair of sunglasses and dissolved it with cocktail after cocktail in the Gold Room but she knew the pain would catch up to her eventually. She couldn't keep outfoxing the despair that was headed down the track.

"Everyone's pain always catches up with them in the end" Dutch had said to her one of their first nights at the Overlook after they'd made love in the early hours of the morning.

She remembered admiring his statueque form as he looked out of the window toward the distant snow capped mountains. She sensed he had a lot of demons but then again, so did she.

Here at the Overlook, she had been convinced for awhile that they were both free from them.

How wrong she was.

It was New Year's Eve and still there had been no word from Dutch.

The winter storms still had shown no signs of abating and the claustrophobia for the guests was increasing day by day. Only drink appeared to help their sense of arctic imprisonment.

The Gold Room and its New Year's Ball celebrating the fast approaching year of 1929 was the only place where Katherine could escape the endless thoughts running through her mind about all the awful outcomes that Dutch may have fallen victim to in the snowy mountains surrounding the Outlook.

"Where are you Dutch?"

Sat at the bar while couples danced behind her in the grand room, she drunkenly summoned Lloyd over to her.

"Say, Lloyd. What's the best drink to cure a broken heart?"

"I would have to say, and you'll pardon the expression, a Corpse Reviver."

"A Corpse Reviver? What's in that?"

Katherine was already starting to feel better, possibly shocked by the name of the cocktail Lloyd had referred to.

"Cointreau, Absinthe, Gin, Lemon Juice. Lillet Blonde."

"Go ahead then. Make one for me, would you?"

Lloyd set about fixing Katherine her cocktail as he surreptitiously watched her reflection in the gold plated mirror and smiled wryly to himself.

"There you go, Miss Goldsmith."

Taking a sip from the freshly made cocktail, Katherine felt immediately pepped up by its fresh, potent taste.

"You know, Lloyd. I have a feeling 1929 is going to be a great year for all of us."

"I have no doubt whatsoever about it, Miss Goldsmith."

And as the dance band in the ballroom started playing an up tempo fox trot, her thoughts of Dutch began to fade almost entirely from her mind like a shadow over the snow covered mountains.