by Jamie Conner
The woman was leaning on the counter with her chin propped in one hand. With her other hand, she was spinning a credit card between her thumb and index finger tapping the edge of the card against the counter after each rotation. A distinctive sound rang out each time the card hit the counter top.
A Black Card, Megan thought as it pinged rhythmically against the wood. She recognized the specialized card because so many of her high school classmates at Eastwood had carried them. The onyx colored card, made of metal, was only given to customers with extremely high lines of credit.
Megan swallowed nervously for a moment. What was someone who could afford to carry a Black Card doing in a place like this, she wondered? She'd found La Maison d' Amelia on a discount hotel site. It was the only hotel inside the walls of St. Amelia and its rates were a quarter of the cost of the large hotels twenty miles away. She certainly hoped she hadn't made a mistake in the booking. As it was she could only afford to stay in France for a week. Her one splurge had been the one night stay at the hotel in Paris and she'd only booked that because her discounted flight didn't arrive until after midnight, too late to catch a connecting flight to Nice.
Megan studied the woman in front of her. The Black Card wasn't the only sign of her wealth. The red bottom shoes and large leather bag draped over her forearm probably cost more than made Megan in a month. The woman's clothes were as stylish as her accessories and looked custom fit to her slim figure. Her brown hair fell over her collar in neatly styled waves. She looked like she had it all together — at least from the rearview.
Megan pulled at her t-shirt self-consciously knowing her appearance didn't paint such an exquisite picture when viewed from the rear or the front. Sadly, her gym card didn't get used half as much as her yogurt store frequent customer card did.
Just then the woman's cell phone rang. Megan watched her dig around in her bag until she found it. She stepped away from the counter and addressed the caller.
"Bonjour."
"Puis-je vous, Madame? Madame?"
It took Megan a moment to realize a second clerk had appeared and was calling her from a computer station a few feet away.
"Oh, I'm sorry," She said tearing her attention away from the elegant stranger. Megan stepped forward and handed the clerk her printed reservation. "I'm checking in." She hoped the document would alleviate any need for her to use her less than adequate French.
The clerk scanned the printout.
"Very good, Ms. Garrett," he said in accented English.
Megan exhaled with relief.
"Okay," he said as he tapped the computer keys efficiently. "We have you staying for one week. A non-smoking room. All I need is a credit card for your incidentals."
Megan handed him her plastic credit card. He swiped it quickly and then handed it back.
"You're all set, Madame. You'll be in room 246."
He was just about to hand her the plastic keycard when the clerk who'd been helping the other woman hurried to his side and whispered something in his ear.
A look of concern flashed across his face. He glanced over at Megan and then started talking to the other clerk.
Megan tried to pick out familiar words, but her French was terrible and they were talking very fast. She felt a knot in her stomach. What could the problem be? Had her credit card been declined? Megan knew she was close to her credit limit, but she had been very careful to stick to her travel budget so there'd be enough room left on the card to cover all of her expenses.
Her heart began to race and she felt beads of sweat starting to pool under her arms.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Garrett," the clerk finally said. "There seems to have been some kind of mix-up."
***
"What kind of mix up?" Brandi asked irritably when she stepped back up to the desk after finishing her phone call.
The clerk who'd been helping her began with an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry, but it seems that reservations for both you and another guest were accidentally booked for the same date when we actually only have one room available in the hotel for tonight. That's why I was having so much trouble checking you in."
Brandi felt her forehead crease. Her patience had worn thin waiting earlier and now she was totally frustrated. Yet another reason why she should have followed her first instinct and booked a room at one of the luxury hotels closer to Nice. She could have easily rented a car to drive back and forth to the wedding festivities.
"That doesn't even make sense," she said frowning. "I made my original reservation for tonight as part of the Broussard-Renault Wedding party and then I called yesterday to extend my stay for the rest of the following week."
Brandi grimaced and glanced over her shoulder hoping her voice hadn't raised as loudly as she thought it had. She dropped her head as soon as she saw Sophia — wearing a t-shirt that said Je Suis La Mariee translation, I'm the Bride — making a beeline toward the counter. Renee — the other bride sans t-shirt — followed quickly on her heels.
"Is there a problem, Brandi?" Sophia asked.
Brandi could already hear the worried tone in her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Sophia. Renee would never let her hear the end of it. Everyone knew that Sophia was the more high maintenance partner in the couple and Brandi was still amazed that someone as laid back as Renee had fallen so hard for her.
"It's okay, Sophia. Don't go into panic mode," Brandi said calmly. "Just let me handle this."
"I'm not panicking," Sophia said defensively, but with a smile on her face.
She was well aware of her reputation and was surprisingly kind of proud of it.
Brandi glanced over at Renee.
"Stop that you two!" Sophia swung a hand playfully at Renee. "I'm allowed to be a little nervous. After all, I am getting married tomorrow."
"And what about me?" Renee asked calmly. "I'm getting married tomorrow too you know." Renee pecked her fiancé on the cheek.
In spite of Sophia's penitent for histrionics, Brandi couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she watched the two women's affectionate banter.
She turned back to the front desk clerk. "So, what can we do about this?" Brandi asked in a tone that made it clear she expected the problem to be fixed — immediately. Her go-to problem solver was usually flirtation, but she wasn't in the mood for that today. She was tired from her trip and just wanted to check into her room and lay down until it was time to go to the wedding rehearsal.
"Well," the clerk said hesitantly. "The only thing I can suggest is that you share a room with another guest for one night."
Brandi's frown turned into a scowl.
"By this time tomorrow we'll be able to accommodate you with no problem," the woman said as she hurriedly beckoned the clerk at the other end of the counter to join them.
As the male clerk walked toward them so did another hotel guest— a woman. Brandi's eyes moved quickly from the woman's crinkly brown ponytail to her off-brand tennis shoes. She wasn't a stylish dresser, but she was cute in a casual uncomplicated way.
As the pair drew closer Brandi noticed a strange expression on the woman's face. She looked like she was fighting back tears. No doubt she was just as shocked as Brandi by the ridiculously poor customer service they were receiving.
Brandi tried not to stare as the woman approached, but for a moment something about her seemed kind of familiar. Brandi brushed the thought away intent on resolving the matter at hand.
"Madams, I know this is a little unusual," the male clerk said addressing both women. "But if you'd be open to sharing a room tonight we'd be happy to give each of you two complimentary night stays for your inconvenience."
The woman had just been staring at Brandi, but she turned her head at the offer of a free hotel stay.
"I guess it would be okay to share the room for one night," she said softly.
Her voice was timid, but when she turned back to Brandi there was a certain fire in her eyes — like she was angry. At Brandi?
"After all," the w
oman continued. "I've always wanted to have a little French adventure."
The moment those words came out of the woman's mouth memories flooded Brandi's mind like a row of falling dominoes. Eastwood. The World History presentation. The kiss.
Brandi felt her face grow warm. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again totally unsure as to what to say. She just stood there like a statue.
"Maybe we should start with introductions," Sophia said, glaring at Brandi for being rude. "I'm Sophia." She extended her hand to the woman. "This is my fiancé Renee. And Miss tall, dark, and silent here is…"
"Brandi," the woman said cutting off Sophia's introduction. "Brandi Turner."
Chapter 3
"Oh my goodness! You and Brandi know each other?" Sophia's eyes darted back and forth between the two women. "What are the odds that the two of you would bump into each other in Cote d' Azur?"
Sophia was clearly much more excited about the reunion than Megan — and apparently Brandi.
"Well, that settles it. Megan you'll have to join us for our rehearsal dinner later this evening," Sophia said emphatically.
Megan opened her mouth to politely decline the offer, but Sophia was having none of it.
"I will not take no for an answer," she said. "I'm the bride and it's my weekend to have things my way."
"Okay, dear," Renee cut in. "Before you totally usurp Megan's vacation plans, why don't we let her get settled in her room."
Sophia stuck her lip out in a playful pout. "Okay, fine. But the least we can do is help you with your bags."
Before Megan could object, Sophia scooped up her overnight bag and nodded to Renee to grab the suitcase.
"My bachelorette room is right down the hall from yours — we have a suite for after the wedding," Sophia winked and then looped her arm around Megan's. She tilted her head indicating that everyone else should follow.
"So," Sophia asked with an inquisitive tone. "How do you and Brandi know each other?"
Megan glanced over her shoulder at Brandi — who still hadn't spoken.
"Oh, we met a long time ago — when we were kids."
"Are you from New York too?" Sophia asked.
"I live in New York now, but I'm originally from Michigan."
"Oh my gosh! Michigan!" She looked at Renee with a grin. "Have you ever attended the Michigan Women's Festival? I used to dream about traveling to the states to go when I was at university. It looked like it was so much fun. All those women living and loving out in the middle of nature."
"Yeah, I went a few times before it ended," Megan said. She was tempted to look over her shoulder again to see what Brandi's reaction was to the mention of the festival — and her attendance.
"Oh. I so hate that I missed that experience — although we have some great festivals here in Europe too, don't we Brandi?" she said with a wink. "I've heard plenty stories about the escapades these two used to get into at Ella when it first started." Sophia released her grip on Megan and wrapped her arms around Renee. "I've tamed this one," she said giggling. "But I'm not sure if Brandi has gotten all of the mischief out of her system yet. Do American girls fall for her as easy as French girls do?"
Megan saw Brandi cut her eyes toward Renee. There must have been a well-honed secret language between the two old friends.
"Alright, that's enough," Renee interrupted. "Brandi, we'll be leaving for the wedding rehearsal in about 30 minutes. Megan, we hope to see you at dinner if your plans allow."
Renee pulled Sophia down the hall toward her room.
Megan watched the brides walk down the hall giggling and tickling each other. Sophia was certainly a handful, but she and Renee seemed to balance each other well. Megan couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever find that kind of love.
When she turned back to the door Brandi was staring right at her. Something in her green eyes cooled the anger Megan was feeling inside and in its place she felt a much more pleasant sensation. Megan straightened her shoulders trying to shake off the tingle she felt racing up and down her body.
Megan was annoyed that she was standing there getting hot and bothered over Brandi Turner. Hadn't she spent enough time — days, weeks, months — back in high school trying to figure out what had happened between them poolside? Hadn't she waited all summer for an apologetic phone call or text message? The memory caused the heat of anger to resurface.
"We should probably go inside — and talk," Brandi finally said.
"Yes. We should go inside. But I can't see that we have much to talk about," Megan responded curtly.
Megan whipped the room key out of her pants pocket, stuck it in the door and then pulled it out quickly. The light on the door lock flashed red. She repeated the motion. Red again.
She was about to stick the card in for a third time when Brandi reached over and touched her hand. She was now standing so close that the air around Megan filled with the smell of Brandi's perfume. Brandi wrapped her fingers around Megan's hand, eased the key into the lock and pulled it out again slowly. A green light flashed followed by a click sound.
"Sometimes you just have to slide it in gently," she said with a weak laugh.
The obvious attempt at flirtation or joking or whatever it was, enraged Megan. She flung the door open and stormed into the room dragging her clunky suitcase behind her. Suddenly, it was like all the anger from high school and every bad date or relationship since then surface at one time.
Brandi had just closed the door when Megan whirled around to face her.
"How dare you!" she yelled. "How dare you flirt with me, or whatever that was. I can't believe you, Brandi Turner. You are still the same selfish bitch you were in high school. Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You were the closest thing I had to a friend at that school. I know that's not saying much since you barely bothered to speak to me in the hallways, but the time we spent together meant something to me! Even if we'd just stayed friends I could have dealt with that, but to kiss me the way you did and then pretend like it never happened when your real so called friends showed up! It was just cruel and heartless and I didn't deserve that!"
By the time Megan finally ran out of things to say her chest was heaving and there were beads of sweat on her forehead.
Brandi just stood there — letting Megan dump all over her. After a long pause, she opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm sorry Megan." Her voice was firm but quiet. "I'm sorry I hurt you back then. And I'm not making any excuses, but you should know I was a pretty confused kid and I didn't have anyone to talk to about what I was going through."
"You could have talked to me!" Megan shouted, surprising herself with the outburst.
"I… I didn't know that then," Brandi said softly.
The pounding in Megan's chest began to slow.
"Megan, I may have looked like I had it all together, but I was miserable and living my life by everyone else's rules. Then I met you and you were so…so nice to me without seeming to want anything in exchange. I wanted to know you better. I wanted to be closer to you. That's why I called you that day and asked you to come over. I hadn't planned to kiss you — well at least not consciously." She paused and dropped her head with a sigh. "Then Todd showed up and…I really am sorry Megan."
Megan listened, but she still didn't know if she believed Brandi or not. Maybe this was all part of the mischief Sophia said Brandi was so good at. Maybe this was how Brandi treated women. Softening them up, saying anything to get what she wanted from them. But what did Brandi want from her now?
"Why didn't you call me?" Megan finally asked.
Brandi looked her in the eye without flinching.
"Because I was afraid."
"Afraid of what? Afraid of me?" Megan asked in disbelief.
"No, afraid of what I felt when I kissed you," Brandi said softly. "I wasn't ready to accept that about myself. I wasn't ready to admit that I was gay. I was young Megan. I was a coward and you got hurt because of it."
Megan just stood there in sh
ock. She didn't know how to respond. The weight of Brandi's confession left her head spinning. What part of it was she supposed to deal with first? Was she supposed to just forgive the mistakes of a teenaged girl and move on? What did moving on look like? Megan felt like she wanted to cry, but she wasn't sure if the tears she felt welling up behind her eyes were for herself or for Brandi. What she was sure of — what actually frightened her — was now that she'd finally released some of the hurt and anger she'd been holding, what was left underneath was that same special something she'd felt for Brandi all those years ago.
The two women just stood there staring at each other, but before Megan had time to respond there was a knock at the door. Brandi walked over and opened it.
"Alright! It's wedding rehearsal time!" Sophia exclaimed from the doorway. "Let's go, Brandi. See you at dinner Megan!"
Sophia pulled Brandi out the door leaving Megan standing in the middle of the room alone with everything that had just been said still hanging in the air clouding Megan's vision like a fog.
***
Megan waited about 20 minutes until she was sure that the wedding party had left the hotel for the rehearsal, before she went back down to the lobby. She needed some fresh air to clear her head, but she certainly didn't want to bump into Brandi and her friends on the way outside. She could hardly believe what had just happened. She'd rehearsed that scene in her head for years. The chance meeting with Brandi where she let her have it without mercy. In the fantasy, she'd yelled at Brandi for hours. Replaying every tear Megan cried in great detail. But in reality, once she'd let off the initial steam of her anger most of what was left was just sadness. Sadness that she and Brandi hadn't stayed friends and even more sadness that they hadn't ever had the chance to become more.