Chapter 7: The work-out & The Intruders

Although, it was now Sunday, the weather very warm and beautiful outside, all three ladies decided to remain inside their hotel room, relax, eat and watch television. Especially, since they all knew that the upcoming week was going to be a very hectic one for all of them. And, if all went well, Clive Wilson would be discharged from the St. Joseph hospital, would return to the hotel and start resuming his work in the music industry. Particularly, since he had a fresh client with very little exposure in the business. He knew, he would have to drum the streets to get her music in every record shop, radio and television show around the California scene and out of the country, ultimately, making her an international singing sensation.

Having Francine's help, Whitney got her clothing organized to hit the gym every single morning that was required of her to do so.

She then sat her down, in one of the chairs, got her hair breaded so she wouldn't have to worry about combing her hair each and every mornings before heading for her work-out sessions inside the hotel gym. And for the rest of the sunny day, all three ladies sat in Ann and Whitney's hotel room talking about everything and anything that were of importance to Whitney's aspiring music career, and making mention of those who might want to take advantage of her in this kind of business. Mainly, other music producers who would want half of her record sales or some who would have her working for them and she wouldn't see a penny from the sales, regardless of the amount sold or the frequent air play given to the music.

Ann Hathaway was very happy that Francine was there with a fresh voice to inform her of all the ins and outs of the business; and all that was taking place in these modern times since she was a little rusty where popularity and fresh ideas were concern. Since she was of a very far and different generation from hers in her music career.

The warm sun going to sleep, the ladies order their meals, had room service delivered it to their room as usual, showered after eating and then went to bed. And once again, Francine decided, she wasn't going up to her hotel room and sleep for the night; but she would be sleeping in Whitney's bed just like she had done the night before. Which Whitney was happy to allow her to sleep in her bed another night.

However, she still had returned to her hotel room for fresh clothing - an extra pair of sweats, so she could change into it, the following morning when Whitney had to get out of bed and go work-out at the gym at the sounding of Peter Tosh's calling. Especially since she was an early riser and knew Whitney would love having her there by her side, since it was her very first time meeting the physical trainer; who she was fully warn about him not being a no nonsense personality.

Thankfully, Francine's body was nothing short of a clock, and every morning she would awake at the same exact time; five o'clock, and head to the bathroom to empty her bladder. And, even though, she knew that it was a precise routine of hers, she still checked her clock to find out what time it was; oftentimes amusing herself with the precision of the time and the strange phenomenon of how her own body system was working.

Ann still asleep, and not wanting to wake her, Francine went over Whitney's side of the bed and began pinching her on the ear, telling her it was time to get up now and start getting dress for the gym; before Peter Tosh had gotten there and came calling out for her. And then waking up the entire third floor of the hotel.

Cranky, Whitney got up from the bed, with an unpleasant look on her face, hitching at her skin and frowning.

"Come on... get up and brush your teeth now! You don't want Peter to be smelling that morning breath of yours... don't play with him because he will outright tell you; that your breath stinks!"

Francine said laughingly.

"Have some water... have some juice... drink something to keep you hydrated before going down there, and wipe that ugly frown from your face!"

Francine sternly advised as she pulled her sweats upon her waist while checking the mirror to see how well it fit her body.

"Isn't Ann coming with us?"

Whitney asked with surprise.

"I don't know if she wants to come... she could always meet us down there later... just leave a note telling her, to meet us down there!"

Francine advised.

"Leave a note where?"

Whitney asked, with a strange look on her face.

"I don't know! On the bed, on the dresser, on the bathroom mirror - anywhere that she will sees it as she wakes up!"

Francine replied while stuffing her feet inside her sneakers.

Soon, she was inside the tiny refrigerator under the desk, pulling out two bottles of water.

"This we can take with us... one for me and one for you; just in case... aren't your ready yet?"

Francine ask hurryingly, forgetting all mention about the water.

"I just need my shoes on, and then I'm done!"

Whitney replied.

"It looks like, I wanted this moment more than you do!"

Francine commented, with an air of sarcasm on her voice.

"Whatever, Francine! Don't you see, I'm all dress and ready for the gym and to meet my trainer... what else more you want from me?"

Whitney asked, with eyes popping wide open, and feeling annoyed.

Not in the mood for her friend's sudden dramatics, Whitney yelled.

"Come on, let's go now!"

Twisting the lock and cracking the door open, Ann woke up to the strange sound and asked.

"Why didn't you guys wake me up... the both of you, were really go to the gym without waking me up?"

"We... I thought you needed to rest some more... but I left a note in the bathroom and on the dresser for you to meet us down in the gym, whenever you were up and out of bed!"

Francine spoke in a hurry.

"Listen-up, Ann!" Francine said sternly; "We have to run right now! Because, I don't want Peter Tosh taking the elevators up here and start complaining; he has to leave his warm bed, come by the hotel, and then, take the elevator all the way to the third floor to get Whitney! Especially, since it's her very first time working with him - you know what they say about first times; 'First impressions are lasting impressions!' So, we have to go immediately... catch-up with you later!"

"Okay, go... go ahead and I will catch up with you guys, later!"

Ann express hurryingly, as she sat on the side of the bed yarning; while breaking the sleepiness from her eyes.

Seconds later, Francine and Whitney were through the door, down the hall-way and then onto the waiting elevator. And not long after that, they were standing in the middle of the hotel lobby floors, looking around to see, if, Peter Tosh had made it there already and was patiently waiting for them to come to the lobby and meet him.

But, he was nowhere in sight!

Side by side, the duo walked into the wide open spaces of the gym which was practically empty at the moment, and then, made their way down in the far corner of the room to their usual work-out spot. And, just as they had put down their water bottles and towels, there emerge from behind one of the massive thread-mill machines, no other person, but Peter Tosh.

He was all dressed in his exercise gears and looked sweaty, as if, he had started working out a long time already.

"I thought, you would be waiting for us in the lobby!"

Francine said, excitingly.

"I was! But soon after I decided to come inside here and check out what was going on in here and see how some of these machines are holding-up! Before, I come pounding on your doors and disturbing all the other guest taking their beauty rest! And, you know, that is something, I really like doing!"

Peter Tosh stated in a sarcastic manner.

Refusing to respond to what he had just said, Francine handed him the envelope with a copy of the signed contract; stating a workout session with Whitney Washington for the next five to six months. It was the time frame he had required to have his clients looking and feeling like a million bucks, however, he usually have them all ready and looking like that large chunk of tough way before that time frame of five months! For him, it was usually three months or less!

The official introduction was then made and now they were onto strictly business!

Shortly after the official introduction, Peter Tosh then went into an army looking bag, he had lean against the wall in the corner of the gym; took out some sheets of paper, and handed them to Whitney.

"This will be your menu or your diet as of now... and I mean you eat these foods religiously! You understand me? All the excess weight supposed to start shedding from your body like water off a ducks back while we work on toning your muscles and giving them some definition."

"Okay madam!"

Peter Tosh said, staring her dead in the eyes.

Scrutinizing the papers from top to bottom, Whitney lashed out!

"No bread, no rice, no sugar, no this, no that... what the hell I'm supposed to eat, air?"

"Look carefully, at the very last sheet of papers and there you will find all the things that you are allowed to eat. And all these things are serve right here in the hotel! You may go by the kitchen counter, give them your room number and convey to the chef that you would like to be on the 'Peter Tosh Special Meals' because you are in his fitness program, and he will facilitate you with whatever you would like to eat; with the ingredients that I use to prepare these foods for my clients."

Peter Tosh explained to her.

"It's not all bad... you will like it, especially when you start seeing the weight spiraling off your body like sun again butter!"

He assured her.

Not seeing any thrill on her face, Peter Tosh told her to come along with him. And, side by side, they both walked to the food counter and submitted the information needed to have her menu changed from the regular menus served in the kitchen to now the 'Peter Tosh Special Meals'.

And with that arrangement finalized, Peter asked Whitney, if she had already eaten breakfast as yet, and she told him no.

Hearing her response, he told her, he would like for them to have breakfast together and they would be eating something from his breakfast menu and she can give him her critique then and there. Presuming, that she would love the food being served from his food list and then they could move on with the program at hand.

He then, made it very clear to her that he had no intention baby-sitting her or wasting anytime spoon feeding her; because it was her career that needed to be plummeted to the top and not his. Therefore, he had no time skylarking with her or anyone else, for the matter!

Frankly, he was being very soft on her, causing Francine to wonder if he was getting old, or if he had a soft spot for Whitney; because he had heard how wonderful singer she has been. Because, the Peter she knew and was accustom to; usually would be yelling his head off at the clients, cursing how they were damn fat and lazy. And at other times, walking away and leaving them in the gym for days without returning and rescheduling his position or time with them.

Right after returning from the food counter, Peter took the sheet of papers from Whitney's hands, handed them to Francine and then told Whitney to start warming up now.

"Get on the thread-mill!"

He said to her sternly.

Like a well discipline child, she kindly obeyed him while he went ahead and set the gage that he wanted her to start walking to on the exercise machine.

When the machine had stopped, he shouted at her.

"Twenty minutes more and then start skipping!"

After the twenty minutes was up, he called Francine to his side and told her to hold one end of the skipping rope while he held onto the other end. And in doing so, Whitney could get between them and start skipping while they turned the rope swiftly. But soon after, he suddenly changed his mind and told France, she should continue doing her exercises. And he would then, tie one end of the rope on the guard rails, hold the other end in his hands, and then Whitney could get in the middle while he turned the rope speedily for her to start skipping.

His invention worked fairly well, and Whitney now had to do fifty skips before taking a break from the ropes and moving on to doing some bench presses so as to strengthen her arms.

Pulling one of the exercise mats leaning against the walls of the gym opposite to where they were exercising, Peter wiped away whatever dusts residing on the surface of the mat, threw it to the floor, when down on it, and started doing several bench presses. His attempt, wasn't for himself, but only to demonstrate to her, how he would rather have it done by her.

He was up off the mat now and soon as he had gotten up from the floors, brush his hands together, he sternly said to Whitney.

"Get down and give me twenty!"

Her legs had grown strong since she had been working on them for the past week and a half, but her upper body strength wasn't that good so; she could only do eight bench presses.

"Get off the floor and walk around with your hands in the air, and keep them up high, until I tell you when to put them down!"

Peter Tosh commanded.

Without any resistance, Whitney quickly got up from the exercise mat, raised her hands high in the air and began walking around the gym with her hands held high in the air like she was airing out her armpits from the irritant of a cheap deodorant while she mumbled to herself about Peter, taking her for a dam robot.

Sweat was dripping from the top of her face straight into her eyes! She kept shaking her head so as to redirect the sweat from drizzling into her eyes. Unable to accomplish such task, she yelled out.

"It's burning!"

"That is a very good sign that it's burning you... you rarely use those muscles... they are weak and that is the reasons for you having that burning sensation!"

Peter Tosh informed her excitingly.

"I'm not talking about my damn muscles, I'm talking about my bloody eyes... sweat is going into my eyes and its burning my eyes!"

Whitney shouted angrily.

Quickly, Peter grabbed her towel and began patting her face gently, and softly wiping away any wetness in the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you, very much!"

She said to him after he was done, then took a deep breath.

"Put your hands down now - shake them around a little, and then get back on the mat and give me twenty bench presses; and don't stop, until you reach twenty!"

Her trainer demanded.

Obedient as a lamb, Whitney made her second attempt of doing the twenty bench presses, but still, she didn't make it to the twenty and only end up doing fourteen bench presses this time around.

It was a vast improvement from what she had done the very first time so; Peter refrain from being any harder on her. But, she had to go walking around the gym with her hands held high in the air once again and then, repeat the bench pressing exercises one more time.

"Give me a sip of water, Francine!"

Whitney shouted as she rolled her eyes in frustration.

But, before Francine could leave off the thread-mill and bring the bottle of water to her, Peter Tosh had already gotten it for her, open the nuzzle with her towel and spray a portion of the bottled water inside her mouth.

Nodding at hi, she said thanks, and kept on walking with her hands held high in the air, until in indicated to her it was time for her to hit the mat once again.

She was down on the exercise mat for another twenty - thirty minutes, counting in her head, as she forced herself to reach the twenty mark. She told herself, she had just done fourteen so doing a next six, should be doable for her. And she went on pushing with gigantic strains and thunderous sounds of echoes, as she reached nineteen going on twenty but, she collapsed at twenty, and kept her body down on the large navy blue mat, until she had regain some strength to remove herself from off the floor!

Seeing her, making such an effort, Peter Tosh smiled to himself and kept on pretending, as if, he hadn't seen her move... rolling over on her back, sitting up on the mat and eventually standing upright on her feet.

"Did you reach that twenty mark I had requested of you?"

Peter asked firmly.

"Only nineteen... twenty is for tomorrow!"

Whitney replied to him while she grab her towel from the bar and began slowly dabbing away at the sweat drippling allover her moist face and on her hands.

"Stop, breathing like that... quiet making those short and quick breaths!"

Peter said compellingly.

"Breath slowly; hold it in for five seconds and then release it! Come, let's do it together!"

He instructed

Then they both began sucking up all the air in their lungs into the top of their necks and then releasing it through their nostrils, and such was done repeatedly until Peter looked over at her and asked.

"Don't you feel better now?"

Whitney nodded; "Yes, I certainly do!" she replied, as she kept on rubbing the towel, back and forth at the nape of her neck, over and over again, with her face filled with deep concentration as she prepared her mind for what to do next.

There were some massive rubber bands which varied in colors and tied to very large poles behind where the weight lifting machines were stationed in the gym.

"You take the red one and I'll take the green one!"

The training instructor, said to Whitney.

Soon, he began showing her how they were supposed to be used and the results that one's body should obtain from using them.

He then stand at a distance and began pulling the rubber bands towards his chest with much strength and started demonstrating to her how by pulling them his muscles were being contracted because of how strong the resistance from the thick rubber bands were.

Whitney, then took turns and started trying the workout technique and realized that they were much harder than they appeared to be.

"Pulling at this thing - these kinds of rubbers will pop open even the sturdiest of chest bones of a massive elephant, no matter how hard it was pulling at these things!"

She said mockingly.

Causing both Francine and Peter to start laughing.

Francine, right away, left from the thread-mill she was on, grabbed onto the yellow rubber band and started pulling at it with her might, and came to realize that it was much more difficult than it really looked.

"Holy Moses!"

She exclaimed, after pulling at it for the very first time.

Three more pulls, and she started breaking out into large drips of sweat like a lumberjack in the forest cutting trees in the summer! This exercise routine was taking all her effort, and after the forth pulling on it, she was done with it! But, Whitney went on pulling at the equipment as her instructor directed her to do, since he realized that her upper strength was much weaker than her lower strength.

So her trainer Peter, had her doing ten consecutive pulls and then had her resting for five minutes and then she was back at it again until she had done one hundred of them. And at the end of that one hundred, they could see other users making their way inside the gym; slowly but surely, getting inside the facility packer and packer with people, by the minute. And just like Francine had advised her almost two weeks ago; she knew, it time to give up their machines and exit the gym.

However, this particular morning, they wouldn't run back to the comforts of their rooms, jump under the shower like they usually do and then get dressed up for the day. But, they would be going over to the food bar at the hotel and ordering breakfast from Peter Tosh's Meal Program designed mostly for his clients who wanted to get rid of their annoying body bulges and quickly. Which, the hotel was now offering to its guest who were into fitness, religiously watching their increasing weight gains and body definition - the outline of their bodies, making sure, it was all in place, feeling tight and looking right.

The waiter handed them each a menu card; shortly afterwards they gave their orders, twenty minute later, large platters were placed in front of them that looked and smell quite delicious.

But, would it taste as good as it looked?

Peter Tosh, said a quick grace over the meal before putting it at his lips; causing Francine to be taken by surprise with this act.

She knew for sure that something was now very different about his demeanor and kept on beating-up herself about what it could possibly be. But it seems like the man who she knew to be arrogant, egotistical and very shameful at times, had become a convert - a born again... a Christion and following the words of Jesus Christ! And, getting rid of his bigheadedness, braggadocios and oftentimes appalling demons who use to make others shrink with fear when he was done uttering much blasphemes and body image bashings.

Peter Tosh, was the first at the time to happily bite into his new found product which mostly the wealthy could afford to buy and began chewing at it with much delight, as though, he was having it for the very first time.

"Come on, eat up!"

Peter said to Whitney, with food bulging from the corner of his jaw.

Cautiously, Whitney cut into the dark colored pancakes made of wheat and corn which were already covered with fresh blueberry sauce, and then some form of liquid butter which was only good for taste. But, according to its inventor, it would never leave its mark on one's hips or on one's waistline.

The first taste had her eyes popping while her jawline kept whining around and around as her tongue searched for that precise taste of satisfaction.

Suddenly, her face lit up! Soon she rested the fork on the side of the plate, put her thumbs up while she kept on nodding her head as she looked in to Peter's eyes and back on her plate filled with succulent bites, as though, she was wondering what to bite into next.

Giving him the thumbs up; Peter knew right away that she liked the taste of the food inside her mouth and encouraged her to continue eating her morning meal and give him more feedback of what she thought about it.

"Taste the eggs and tell me what you think!"

Peter requested of her.

"I've never had green eggs before, but I'm going to give this a try!"

Whitney replied.

Right away, she used the fork and cut into the fluffy lump of green eggs on the side of her plate and placed it inside her mouth. Feeling the softness and juiciness melting against her tongue, Whitney covered her mouth with her hands and exclaimed with her mouth quite full of food.

"Oh! Oh, my god!"

"This is really, really good! Why don't they introduce this to everybody staying inside the hotel from the very beginning?"

She asked.

Looking over at Francine, she exclaimed.

"Isn't this very good, Francine?"

Her mouth quite full, enjoying the pleasure on her taste bud, she quickly nodded her head, while her eyes widen, rolling to the back of her head with an element of sweet surprise written all over her face.

She swallowed!

"This is very, very delicious! I could eat this every single day... three times a day, and for the rest of my life!"

She said excitingly, as she scooped up more of what was on her dish and placed it inside her mouth.

"I'm glad, you both have enjoyed it!"

Peter said smiling as he watched the expression on Francine's face.

Turning to Whitney, he continued.

"If you continue with the diet, you will be amazed how much weight will fall off your frame and have you looking lean and very healthy in no time! Your skin will start glowing, your state of wellness will be very evident to you, and everyone who comes around you, and this breakfast, I'm sure will hold you for most of the day because of all the nutrients packed inside of it! Your meals, should never be something, you only stuff inside your mouth, but they should be packed with nutrients to fuel your body for long periods of time each day!"

Perter Tosh explain excitingly.

Just like the scrumptious food in front of them, so were the mixture of freshly blend fruit juices that Peter Tosh had invented to go along with the main courses of each meal... all vitamin packed and refreshing to the last drop!

And after eating all, they were capable of consuming, both ladies left the table feeling very satisfied with the ingredients put inside the meal they had just consumed at the food bar. And then they kept laughing at Peter's explanation to them; that the green eggs they had just joyously consumed for breakfast were only that color because several lefty vegetables blended into it such as broccoli and spinach. Which, were afterwards season with powdered fish bones and various spices to bring it to that taste.

Their towels hanging over their shoulders, they slowly made their way inside the hotel lobby, and there, Peter announced to Whitney.

"Get some rest, and please, be down by five o'clock in the morning!"

"I will!"

She responded.

Those words spoken, all three went their separate ways!

Riding the elevator up to the third floor, Francine asked Whitney.

"So how are you feeling now... was the exercises too much for you or were you, satisfied with it?"

"I think he is great! I'm pretty sore right now; but, he is great!"

Whitney responded as she stretched away the aches from her hands and thighs.

Minutes later, they were off the elevator, opening the door to their hotel room and walking inside it. Where they found Ann, still lying in bed, and fast asleep! But neither Whitney nor Francine had any intention of disturbing Ann's rejuvenating rest or her beauty sleep. So they both went ahead and took their showers without disturbing her late morning snooze.

However, after getting out of the tub, Francine wanted to go on the seventh floor, grab some fresh clothing and also to enquire, if Clive Wilson's wife, Lydia, was still inside her husband's hotel room with her male and female encounters.

But, she was very terrified of making that enquiry all by herself; so she turned to Whitney and asked her to accompany her there.

Flatly, Whitney declined from following her there right away and suggested that they both should get some rest before they go up there. Especially, since they had nowhere important scheduled for that day. And so they fell off sleeping until it was late afternoon only to be wakened by a very hard pounding on their room door.

Ann was up and inside the shower at the time, so Francine hurry to open the door for the unexpected and unknown visitor. Looking through the peephole first, to see who was there, she could see it was someone from the kitchen who was standing there. And so, she presumed, Ann ordered meal from the kitchen and room service was now delivering it to her.

Staring through the peephole on the big brown door, she could see that the waiter was sweating - he had water dripping from his face, and so France wondered to herself, if in the corridors of the hotel were that hot at that hour of the day for him to be perspiring in such a manner. Since the sun was already going down and the cool desert air was slowly climbing to the surface bringing about a chill from the windows of their room.

However, he was standing there and so she excitingly open the door and invited him, to come inside and put the food try down on the glass table in the corner of the room. But, soon as she open the door for the waiter, and he made his very first step inside the room, there came two other men stepping inside the room behind him.

Taken aback by their presences, Francine made a quick screamed.

She could easily recognize their faces as the men who were on the seventh floor in Clive Wilson's room with his wife and her friend.

"What do you want?"

Francine ask boldly.

"Shut up!"

One of the men replied, as he proceeded into the room and kept looking around the room in a suspicious manner.

"Where is your friend... the other bitch who was at the hospital with you the other day?"

One of the strangers inquired.

Whitney who was lying down on the couch, recognized that there was some form of trouble at their doorstep and rolled from the couch onto the floors to begin hiding while Francine kept on asking the men what they wanted with her client. But the men gave her no reasonable response but just kept on peeping around the room with the masks of much intimidation showing on their faces.

Hiding under the top of the bed, Whitney could see the metal bar used to brace the glass-doors from the heavy wind and crawled on her belly to retrieve it from its position. And soon after getting a hold of it in her hand, she rolled from beneath the bed, stood to her feet and bravely asked; the mean faced intruders what they were doing there and why they were asking for her. Particularly since she knew no one in California away from those persons who were affiliated with Clive Wilson and his music business.

"You are the one who is bold enough to be messing with my Lydia's husband... flirting with him right in front of her face?"

One of the men spoke askingly.

"And you are the ones who had her on all fours like a kangaroo when she's supposed to be married to him... my boss... my friend... my manager?"

Whitney fired back nervously while holding the piece of iron bar in her hand very firmly.

"Bitch, watch your damn mouth!"

One of the men said, as he quickly launch across the room to where Whitney was standing, trying to attack her physically. But Whitney wasn't backing down and raised her hand with the iron bar in it and reached for his face with it.

Right away, Francine repeatedly began screaming.

"Help!!!" "Help!!!" "Help!!!"

And with her doing so, the other intruder, slapped her hard across the face, causing Whitney to feel it in her soul and Ann to hear it where she was; using the bathroom. Causing her to bolt from under the shower partially naked.

"What the hell is going on?"

She yelled.

But, no one could give her an answer!

Because they were too busy scuffling and fighting for their life!

Francine was holding onto her face, trying to control the pain form the hard blow she had just received from the stranger's hand while Whitney was on the other side of the room wrestling and tussling with the other intruder like she was an athlete from the national wrestling association. And the waiter, who was still standing inside the room with the empty try in his hand was now fiercely using it, pounding on the back of the man who had just slapped Francine very hard, across the face.

"How dear you, come inside this hotel and hit our guest!"

The waiter said repeatedly, as he slapped the man with the try who was now only shielding his face from the semi-sharp edges of the food tray.

Sadly, the waiter who was of a very thin physique was no match for the six-footer who had massive hands and shoulders; and who began punching at him with all his might while expressing all sorts of profanities as he went on hitting him wherever the punches seems fit to land, as though, he had some personal vendetta against him.

Whitney, on the other side of the room was winning her battle since her very first blow to the intruder's head had reached him very hard and had his head dizzy for a good while before regaining his balance. And just after he had regain his faculties, he whack at her real hard, causing her to stumble a bit, but she came back at him and began beating him across the chest and belly with the iron rod! Now, he was holding her in a choke-hold and she was wrestling very hard to release herself from under his tight grip!

Ann, who had now slipped into a T-shirt, sweat pants, and looking half-way decent; saw how one of the strangers were mishandling Whitney... grabbing at her face, as if, he wanted to ripped her flesh from her skull and holding her around the neck.

Instinctively, Ann grabbed one of the heavy white plates from the tiny glass table, which still had food on it and quite hot, and broke it on top of the intruder's head! Now, causing blood to spew! It began spewing everywhere in the room like one of the silver faucets in the bathroom.

Seeing the blood, the man release his hold from Whitney's neck and immediately fainted to the floors. Catching her breath and balance, Whitney saw that Francine and the waiter were in serious trouble! So once again, she picked up the iron bar which the intruder had managed to knock from her hands, and went towards where the other intruder was tousling with the waiter and Francine, and soon, she began whacking him over the back with it until he was down on the floor screaming and begging for mercy.

Whitney wasn't feeling any sentiments of mercy or compassion now and so she whack the man on his legs repeatedly, with the intention of braking them as she asked.

"Lydia is the one who sent you down here... tell me... did she sent you down here!"

Under much mumbling, hiccups and giraffe tears, the intruder uttered the words; "Y...Yes, she did!"

Whitney was ready to get on the seventh floor of the hotel building and have it out, with Lydia - confront her. But first, she wanted Francine to call the hospital, get Clive Wilson's room, so she could speak with him. And without questioning her reasons, for doing so, Francine, shaking and in tears, dial the number and handed her the telephone.

Clive Wilson who was only suspicious of his wife infidelity, was now going to hear all the dirty details of her behavior first-hand, which had been happening over the past week inside his own hotel room.

"Clive, this is Whitney!"

She said.

"Good evening, Whitney!"

Clive Wilson said sounding very exciting to hear her voice.

"Control your heart beat, right now and take a deep breath, because I have some messy news to tell you now!"

Whitney warned.

"You can't back out of the contract now; Whitney!"

Clive Wilson said, with curiousness in his voice.

"Who said anything about backing out of anything?"

Whitney asked sternly.

"Okay then, Whitney, I am taking a very deep and long breath, and controlling my heart!"

He said with a deed sigh and a spread of his lips.

"You know that bitch-of-a-wife of yours, was having a foursome in your hotel bed four days ago... Francine walked in on them, almost gave her a heart attack and nearly sending her to the hospital to be roommates with you!"

Whitney sated loudly.

"Your wife, then sent the men... the same men she and her friend were having a foursome with, to my room, warning me that I should stay out of her business and I should leave you alone! Both men, are in my room on the floor, at this very moment... one bleeding to death and the other crying and begging for mercy like a damn pinned-up prisoner! I'm warning you, she and her girlfriend will be joining you in that hospital, and very, very soon! You get me?"

Whitney expressed angrily.

"Whitney... Oh Whitney!" Clive Wilson shouted; "Please, don't put yourself into any more trouble because of my wife and her careless living!"

Whitney could hear him breathing heavily like he was about to have another heart attack.

"Clive!"

Whitney yelled.

"Are you alright?"

She asked.

Ignoring her question, he continued talking with much hoarseness.

"Whitney, please my dear, stay out of trouble... remember your career! I don't want you in jail or in the courts... it's bad for business - too much negative publicity is very bad for business... please, put Francine on the phone, let me speak with her right away; please!"

A look of concern all over her face, Whitney handed Francine the phone, went over to where her mentor Ann was standing and stood by her side.

"You cannot allow Whitney to damage her good reputation because of my stupid wife and her dumb ass bed-fellows and whoring ways; you understand me?"

Clive Wilson stated vexingly.

"Go to my room, look under the bottom of my desk, you will see a red folder taped to the underneath surface of the desk; remove it and then call the very first number at the top of it. And just tell the person answering the phone that there is a mess on the third floor of the hotel! Give him your room number and then tell him, I would like to have it cleaned up, immediately! Don't let the sun goes down and it's not cleaned up... now go ahead and call him right away!"

The phone then went dead.

Turning her attention to the aspiring singer in the room, Francine spoke worryingly.

"Whitney, I need to go upstairs to Clive's room, but you can't come with me... Clive doesn't want you in any trouble; so it's best if you stay here!"

"Ann, can you come with me; instead?"

Francine asked nervously.

Whitney, still feeling irate, and also stubborn as an untamed horse, made mention that all three of them would be going to the seventh floor, for whatever purposes Clive had requested of Francine to do.

Within seconds, all three women were making their way through the hotel door with the waiter limping behind them with the broken tray still clutched to his hand; ready defend the well-known guest for another physical attack!