a/n: okay, I know this started off as a oneshot, but I had my teacher read it, and he suggested that I add on little stories for each character Simon met. So if you like this, you can thank him. If people like it, then hey, another one will probably come out soon, too :)

---

Ezra was jealous of Simon. It always seemed that once he came in for his shift, all the good stuff had already happened. Ezra almost always got the five to midnight shift; he was usually stuck opening doors to people who would swagger into the ritzy hotel, clawing at his uniform. As a rookie, Ezra became scared when this first happened. It took him a few experiences to figure out that all these people were drunk and needed two more legs to help them stand.

No matter how much he said it didn’t bother him, he still felt freaked out whenever they would spit garbled speech his way.

Ezra didn’t stand up straight like Simon did, and his boss constantly reprimanded him for it. Ezra “slouched and looked like he had scoliosis. Who the hell wants to stay in a hotel that has a scoliotic doorman?” When Ezra tried to point out to his boss that “scoliotic” wasn’t a real word, he got a dollar reduction in his paycheck for a month and a half.

---

A woman stalked across the parking lot, her hair frizzed and out of place. Either she had just woken up, or she was trying to tear her hair out because she was really pissed off. Ezra figured it was the latter.

“Hi, ma’am,” he said, flashing his newly tightened braces at her. “Welcome to the Hilton. Y’know, like Paris, but without the sluttiness and stuff.”

“Do you know where this hotel is, young man?” she snapped, jabbing a finger dangerously close to his eye.

“Well, I, yeah.”

She blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes exasperatedly. “Then you should be working back there.” Ezra follows her finger to Clark, who was sitting behind a long polished marble desk, ready and waiting to check guests into their rooms. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“I…uh…I’m sorry?” Ezra offered apologetically.

“We spent half an hour driving around the same expressway, no idea how to get to this hotel,” she vented, her face red. “The people at the tollbooths took at least ten dollars; that’s how many times we drove through, trying to find this damn place! No thanks to you!” She sent an evil glare to Clark, who remained oblivious to the whole thing. Ezra could tell he was trying to shut the woman’s screeching voice out.

The woman quickly became bored with him and made a beeline for Clark’s desk. Ezra could still hear her loud and clear even though he was now at least twenty feet away.

“Why are you working behind this desk, giving out false directions to a hotel? Why didn’t you get anyone else to talk to me? Why didn’t you get him to help you?” She pointed at Ezra again.

Ezra raised his index finger. “Hey, Clark.”

Clark nodded in his general direction. “Ezra.”

“See? You two know each other. This whole mess could have been avoided if you had just had the decency to get up and find some help!”

“I’m…sorry, ma’am.” Clark fumbled for words. “It’s just…this is my first week, and…honestly, I still have a hard time finding the place…”

If the woman wasn’t already set off, this was what did her in. “First week? This is your first week, and you’re assigned to give out directions? What kind of hotel are you working for?”

“A Hilton, ma’am,” Ezra contributed.

The woman whipped around and turned on Ezra again. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me…Ezra!” Her voice came out in hysterics, little shrieks. Families in the dining room were glancing up, surprised at the lack of restraint the Hilton’s newest patron was showing. She turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Ezra groped for the handle and managed to open the door for her just in time.

“You’ve got a halfway decent doorman, I’ll give you that much.” She sighed disapprovingly and left the hotel. Ezra breathed on his nametag, polished it slightly, and smirked at Clark.

Marcus O’Reilly, the owner of the hotel, made it to the lobby seconds after the woman had departed. He leaned on Clark’s desk, breathing heavily, his cheeks red.

“What just happened here?”

Clark and Ezra glanced at each other and shrugged. “Wrong hotel,” Clark answered vaguely.

---

“Hi, sir, welcome to the—”

“Yeah, thanks.” A man in a black jacket and jeans walked briskly through the doorway into the lobby, his scuffed black shoes and Nike gym bag looking out of place among all the gaudy items and people scattered throughout the hotel.

“Um, sure, no problem.”

The man pulled his hood up, tightened the strings around his chin, and walked up to Clark nonchalantly. Ezra peeked out of the glass doors to check the night’s weather. Maybe it was raining. Nope. At last check, it was 72 degrees outside, so he couldn’t have been cold. Ezra racked his brain for other reasons why this guy would be so obsessed with keeping his ears and face covered.

“Everybody down!” Ezra’s head whipped around and his eyes took in the man pointing a gun at Clark’s head. As if on cue, three other men sprinted into the hotel, all dressed identically to the first guy. Mothers eating dinner with their kids screamed and reverted back to their years in grade school, where they were taught that if they hid under their desks they’d have a better chance of surviving a nuclear attack from the Russians. Ezra looked around, his eyes jumping and panicky, trying in vain to find something to hide under. He finally settled for just flattening himself against the floor, watching the whole scenario unfold.

“C’mon, you know the drill!” The man with the gun leaned in and squinted at Clark’s chest, trying to read his nametag. Ezra considered telling Marcus that their nametag type needed to increase in size, but decided that now was not a good time to bring up such issues. “Money, Clark, now!”

Clark had a bad stuttering habit. The man looked at him like he’d just suggested something obscene. He shook his head and grabbed Clark’s shirt, dragging him out from behind the desk. He jabbed the gun into the clerk’s back and whispered something into his ear.

Clark walked.

Ezra bit his lip. No matter how guilty it made him feel, the one thing that he was concerned about now, aside from Clark managing to keep a bullet out of his back, was how much this would cost him. How much Marcus would take out of his paycheck this time. He knew it was shallow and stupid, but he couldn’t force the thought from his mind.

The two men who followed the first paced around the hotel lobby, confiscating cell phones and other valuables as they waited for their companion to return with what they really wanted. Three agonizingly long minutes later, Clark reappeared with the man trailing behind him, clutching a bag. His accomplices quickly pocketed their new accessories and followed the leader to the front of the hotel.

Ezra refused to look up. He could see three pairs of feet in front of him, but he rejected the idea of them still there. Wouldn’t they want to leave before the cops came? Why would they be standing there? He kept his gaze straight ahead until he saw a pair of eyes boring into his.

“Ain’t you a doorman, kid?”

Ezra’s eyes rose up a little, but he forced his head to stay down.

“Ain’t it your job to open doors for paying customers like us?”

“I…I mean, I guess, but…” Ezra heard his voice trickle away as a gun entered his line of vision.

“What’re you waiting for, then?”

He scrambled up, tripping over himself a few times, lurching toward the door handle. His shaking fingers grasped the handle and he jerked the door open.

“Um…have a…good day.”

“Thanks, kid.” The last guy out patted him on the head like a dog. “Take it easy.”

Ezra wondered if they covered the cameras with something. Maybe that was why they were so slow to leave; they had no real chance of getting caught.

Clark staggered over to Ezra, his face pale. “Y'know," he began slowly, "you’re too polite.”

---

“That’s me!” Ezra yelped excitedly, jumping up and pointing at the TV screen. “D’you see me? I’m right there.”

The local news stations had appeared at the Hilton exactly eight minutes after the robbers had departed, the police on their tails. The first thing they did, aside from interviewing Clark, was to examine the security tapes. Sure enough, they had been covered by something—the police didn’t disclose any actual descriptions—but when they looked closely, they caught a glimpse of Ezra opening the door for the trio.

“What a polite guy you are,” Simon said, taking a sip of his soda. After hearing about the scenario at the hotel, Simon decided to invite Ezra and Clark over to hang out, play some pool, to try and calm their nerves a little.

“That’s what I said!” Clark insisted. He leaned back on the couch, his arms folded across his chest. “I didn’t get on the news, though. I’m the one who got them the money; Ezra just let ‘em go.”

“The camera loves me, baby,” Ezra answered, batting his eyelashes at Clark, his voice high and girly. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the long hair he didn’t have and shrugged. “It’s not my fault.”

“They’re probably gonna call you in for questioning tomorrow, Ezra,” Simon informed him.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do you know anything that’d even help the case?”

Ezra got up to go get another Coke. “He had brown hair. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Oh, definitely.” Clark rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you guys, let’s play some pool.”

As Simon got up, a single thought ran through his mind. Everything cool happened when Ezra’s shift started. He never got any of the exciting stuff.