The Fairmont Olympic is notorious for being Seattle's swankiest hotel. The colossal multimillion-dollar establishment has hosted celebrity clients like Prince and the Rolling Stones. Even its bar—dubbed The Terrace—reeks of money. It's crammed with imported Italian decor, men in Armani suits, and complimentary potato chips in dainty silver bowls. Most of the patrons are drunk or well on their way—and it's 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. There's a Christian Bale look-alike smugly soaking in the admiring glances women are throwing his way. Then there are the newlyweds who've known each other less than a year and are soon jetting off to Fiji for their honeymoon. Most intriguing is a 40-something businessman whose back-to-back phone calls suggest he's cheating on his wife. "Hi, baby," he coos into his cell in a nasally Quentin Tarantino–esque voice. "Are you at home? I was so busy with meetings today. I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to take a nap." Minutes later, he makes another call. "Hi, baby. Are you in the room? You're going to take a shower? All right, I'll have another cocktail and wait for you downstairs." He waves over the bartender, orders a drink, then tells her he plans on taking his lady friend to either Morton's or Canlis. "Please cut me off the potato chips," he adds casually. "I keep eating them and I don't want to spoil my appetite." That's his biggest source of conflict? Damn, if The Terrace serves up this much scandal, one can only imagine what goes down in the hotel rooms.