Hotel Indigo (12 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

L
UCY

“S
O
LET
ME
GET
THIS
straight,” Anna says, an expression of faux-concern on her innocent, pale features. “You had a hot guy up in your room. He took off your bra. He was going to spend the next hour rubbing you into bliss. And so you snapped at him and ended it.”
 

I’ve had four drinks. I didn’t realize it until I’d finished the fourth and it was too late. So I ordered a fifth. It’s still sitting in front of me, taunting.
 

“It wasn’t like that,” I say.
 

“Then how was it?”
 

I pause, then realize I have nothing to counter with.
 

She sees it on my face and takes my silence as permission to continue. “What did he look like?”
 

“Big.
Very
big, like arms this big around.” I realize my two hands can’t make a circle large enough. “Dark hair and eyes. Scary.”
 

“Yum,” Anna says.
 

“Scary is
yum
?”
 

“Hell yeah, it is. Honey, you’ve got a problem. I’m worried about you.” She’s suddenly all serious. “You’re on vacation right now. This is as free as you get. And even on vacation, at a luxurious spa with palm trees and pool studs and whatever else, you can’t relax.”
 

“I don’t see how this is me not relaxing. I’m drunk.”
 

“Drunk is different. I’m talking about letting yourself
feel
.”
 

“Okay. I
feel
drunk.”
 

“When’s the last time you had sex?”
 

I almost choke on my drink.

“Sex is a biological need, hon.” Anna teaches yoga, only buys organic food, and is a vegan. She makes bedroom antics sound like a cleansing ritual.
 

I grew up thinking that sex was fun but dirty.
 

But she’s right. I haven’t been laid for … ugh, maybe
years
. And it’s not like I have all that many behind me.
 

“This wasn’t about sex.”
 

“You don’t know that,” Anna says.
 

“He’s a professional.”
 

“But he likes you.”
 

This is too much. I give Anna a drunken
I declare
gesture by raising my finger into the air. “You don’t even know who he is!”
 

“I know how you described him.”
 

“Like an asshole?”
 

“I meant when you sent him away. How did he react?”
 

I think about it. There was a definite change. He looked almost offended rather than crude, but even “offended” feels wrong. “Rebuked” might be better. But that doesn’t mean Anna is right.
 

“You weren’t even there.”

She sighs, and I know she’s about to say something annoying.
 

“Lucy?”
 

“Yes?”
 

“I know you think I’m crazy.”
 

“I do.”
 

“But I can see it in your aura.”
 

I laugh.
 

“You’re due for a change,” Anna continues, undaunted. “It’s in your energy. What you said about your mom and your job and your dad’s illness and death? It’s polluted your aura for sure. Your core is still there. But it’s hurt, honey. It pains me to see it.”
 

“Okay. Thanks, Anna.”
 

“I know you don’t believe this stuff.”
 

I don’t reply. Of course I don’t believe it, but I do love Anna … and despite the fact that she’s always spouting this or that metaphysical bullshit, I can’t deny that she’s always given the best advice. She’s always had insight. I just don’t buy that it’s coming from auras and energy.
 

Then again, I’m drunk. So who am I to say?

“But when you talk about this guy—”
 

“The one who almost raped me?”
 

“Is that really how you feel about what happened, or are you just afraid?”
 

I don’t reply to that, either.
 

“When you talk about him,” Anna repeats, now that she’s defused my rebuttal, “I see you light up. There’s something between you.”
 

I laugh again.
 

“Don’t laugh.”
 

“I’m sorry. You’re just being so ridiculous. I don’t know this guy. I don’t like him. And—”
 

“Why
don’t you like him?”

I push on. So I don’t know why I don’t like him. Why does that matter? “We’ve met once. At an appointment. For a massage. That lasted ten minutes.”
 

“Because you stopped it,” Anna says. “Because you were afraid.”
 

“Okay. Yes. He scares me a little. And it was in my room, not someplace public.”
 

“Maybe that’s
why
it scared you. Nobody to save you from what you need, but won’t allow yourself to have.”
 

“So he was going to fuck me. Right there on the table.” My voice and face are deadpan.
 

“You didn’t even give it a chance to see.”

“Or was he going to fall in love with me? You can see the future. Is that what was going to happen?”
 

“Lucy …”
 

“Anna,”
I reply with a mocking sneer — the best comeback I’ve given anyone since sixth grade, when I pointed out that I was rubber and Joey Belfleur was glue.
 

“All I’m saying is that you shut things down before they have a chance. Not just this time, but every time. It’s become your pattern, ever since Aaron.”
 

“Ah. I was wondering how long it would take for Aaron to come up.”
 

“You loved him, Lucy.”
 

“Yes. Yes, I did. And he broke my heart.”

“So you’re doomed forever? You’re just never going to give anyone else a chance?”
 

“Aaron didn’t just hurt me, Anna. I invested so much of my hope in him, and doing so distracted me from Culture Shawk — from what should have,
finally
, been a fledgling business of my own. If things hadn’t gone south with Aaron, I wouldn’t have gone into a depression. And if I hadn’t gone into the depression, I wouldn’t have dropped the ball on Shawk.” I sigh. “If it wasn’t for Aaron, I’d be doing my own thing right now rather than being my brother’s lackey.”
 

I sigh heavily, not wanting to sound ungrateful.
 

“Look. I’m proud of GameStorming. And I know I’m responsible for a lot of its success. But that’s Caspian’s thing. When I’m gone, nobody will look at GameStorming and say, ‘Look what Lucy White built.’ I want my own legacy. I want my own identity. I want to make my mark on the world, and being second banana to Caspian isn’t the way to do it.”

“A relationship makes you stronger, not weaker.”
 

“For you, maybe. But what happened with Aaron cost me my best chance at a legacy so far. The idea of starting something new … of devoting my already-short time and energy to a relationship …” I make a vague gesture intended to indicate the futility of it all, then finally pick up my fifth drink and take an ill-advised sip. “And besides!” I slam the drink back down. “Why are we talking about relationships, anyway? Did I say anything about relationships? I was just telling you about this hot asshole who tried to grope me.”
 

This time I smile. Anna’s talk about real relationships has made anything less serious seem mild by comparison. Like taking a cold shower before jumping into a slightly warmer pool.
 

“You think I should have let him grope me, don’t you?”
 

“You’re on vacation. If you can’t let yourself go then, when can you?”
 

“I don’t think anything was going to happen, Anna. It was just a massage.”
 

“Maybe, maybe not.”
 

“I can’t just book another one. I can’t even look him in the eye. And besides, I’m telling you — the guy is trouble.”
 

“Then just be open.” Anna puts a hand on mine. “Please. I’m worried about you.”

“So … what?”
 

Anna smiles. “Just tell me what he looked like again.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

L
UCY

A
NNA
LEAVES
ME
AFTER
A
bear hug at Hotel Indigo’s lobby door, demanding we never wait so long between meet-ups again. I’m still tipsy, but no longer flat-out drunk. I’m happy. Eager to tell Anna what she wants to hear, and believe it.

It’s late. The lobby isn’t deserted, but it is quiet. There’s someone else behind the front desk now, and the door to Kendall’s office is closed. The new clerk is a girl who looks to be about eighteen. That was just five years ago for me, but it feels like forever. I left college early, but still — that was just around the last corner.
 

I remember feeling as carefree as the girl behind the desk might feel. When her shift ends, she’ll probably hit the clubs. It was that way for me, those first years away from home. I was out from under my parents’ thumb for the first time, but not yet encumbered by a stressful career at my brother’s right hand.
 

Right now, those days feel long ago.
 

I look toward the elevators, but don’t like the idea of going up to my room, so I sink into a soft booth in a partitioned-off alcove where no one can bother me. My room feels like a crime scene, after all Anna had to say. It’s the location of my latest failure — my most recent self-sabotage, wherein a ball was offered and I refused to take it.
 

Because lately I’ve felt so much like a responsible grownup.
 

Because I have to take care of my mother and deal with my father’s estate.
 

Because my brother won’t help. Because long ago, he divorced himself from their abuse.
 

And because I’m Lucy — the girl who forgot what it was like to be young and free.
 

I’ve built my own jail cell, bar by bar.

Someone slides into the booth beside me. The lobby is dim and the newcomer has dark hair and darker clothing, so at first I don’t know who it is. Just another lonely guest with no sense of personal space.
 

“Drinking alone?” he says.
 

And I realize it’s Marco.
 

I swallow. I’m already reacting to him. I feel panic wanting to rise inside me. But Anna’s words are with me. If he’s honestly a threat — which I’m sure he isn’t — I’m still in a public place. There are others in the lobby, even if they’re out of sight. I have an escape plan; I can yell if I have to. But until then I’ll throttle the need to run. Either Marco was never a threat and I’ll prove it to myself by staying put this time and letting him do the same — or he did intend his ill-will after all. In the latter case, at least I can face him. I owe my pride — and my dwindling sense of control over my own life — at least that much.
 

“I’m not drinking.” I gesture to the empty table.
 

“But you have been. I can smell it on your breath.”
 

It’s creepy, his being so close. I can smell him, too, but it’s definitely not bad. It’s the scent of his skin and hair, dust from a day on the job. Something in me wants to stay close, to keep savaging myself with those scents. I flare my nostrils, wanting to inhale him.
 

“What business is it of yours?”
 

“None,” Marco says. There’s a long moment. Then finally he adds, “I got in trouble because of you.”