Reuniting Reality

by Nikki LeClair

  I let out a snarky laugh. “I don’t need your help, with my suitcase, or with anything. So you can get back into your mountain wagon and be on your way.” I swat at him as I walk back to my bags.

  He frowns at me. “You don’t want a ride to the lodge?”

  I whisper to myself, as I reach my bags. “What I want is your guts splattered on the side of the asphalt...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Go away, I don’t need your help. Ever.”

  “Julie, it’s a good thirty minute walk up the mountain—”

  “Maybe for you,” I huff with a laugh as I reach into my open duffle bag and take out my hat. “I see you’ve let yourself get a bit pudgy. I, on the other hand am in perfect shape. As you can see.” I put my hat over my head. “I run marathons now. Even triathlons. This is nothing to me. This is a light, tranquil walk.”

  How is he going to know I exercise once a month, if that?

  I zip up my duffle bag and pull the strap over my shoulder. I stand up and shove the bag behind me as I reach down for the handle to my suitcase. He looks amused, and it sends an angry ping throughout my body. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

  He takes a step towards me. “Don’t be insane. Just get into the jeep. We don’t have to talk to each other.”

  I spin on my heel and give him my back. “I don’t speak traitor.”

  “You're going to walk all the way up there with those boots?” he calls to me.

  I lift my head and pick up my pace. “I said, I don’t speak traitor!”

  My scream rings around the forest.

  That’ll show him.

  Oh God.

  I should have taken the stupid ride.

  It feels like I’ve been walking for hours and hours. My feet are numb, but before they died in my boots, it felt like they were filling up my boots with blood.

  My suitcase got stuck twice, I had forgotten how heavy it was, and the second time I yanked it from a snow patch, I fell down. Face first in the snow. Strands of my hair have frozen, and my cheeks burn in such an unpleasant way I’m sure I have frostbite.

  My chest is heaving worse than when I throw up after a night of drinking, and my lungs sizzle. I can see my breath every time I gasp for air. The sun set ages ago, and fluffy snow has started coming down from the clouds.

  I’m sure wolves can smell the blood in my boots, and are tracking me.

  Just kill me now.

  I’m half way up this hill and I know there are several more before me.

  Who puts a Ski Lodge on a mountain top?!

  My feet are barely lifting from the ground now. I can hear the heels scrap against the road and I have no care anymore if they are ruined.

  Once I’m at the top of the hill, I bend over and rest my hands on my knees. I take a few slow breaths, hoping to get my heart at a steady pace for at least a minute.

  “Okay,” I breathe out to my bags, “I have got to be almost there.”

  I push myself off my knees and look up.

  There are no more hills.

  There is just Maple Crest Lodge.

  “Oh thank God!” I gasp with relief. I’m standing at the entrance of the large parking lot, full of cars and trucks. I notice two production trucks at the very end of the parking lot, only visible because of the brightly lit lodge.

  Maple Crest is breathtaking. The sides of the building disappear behind vast amounts of maple trees. It’s made of grey stone and gorgeous shiny, maple wood. It stands two stories high with massive ceiling to floor windows and balconies that are held up by log pillars. The entrance is up a few grey stone stairs that match the walls, and underneath a 30 foot or higher archway with a glass ceiling. Twinkle lights grace the front balconies and railings to the front doors.

  “Wow,” I gawk. “This place is stunning.”

  “A bit over the top if you ask me.”

  My jaw tightens at the voice and I shut my eyes tightly. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Because you don’t speak traitor?” he jokes back.

  I pry my eyes open and gaze to my left. Declan’s leaning against his jeep, a good thirty feet away from where I stand, with his arms crossed over his chest. At his feet are two suitcases. His ears are red and so are his cheeks.

  “Or because you’re crazy and talk to yourself?” he asks. He gives me what he thinks is a bright and endearing, and very obvious dorky, smile.

  I blink at him.

  “Aren’t you going to thank me for waiting for you?” He inquiries as he pushes himself off his jeep.

  “Thank you for stalking me?” I quip back as I adjust my hat and look at the Lodge.

  “Looks like you barely made it up.”

  “I made it up fine!” I shout as I reach down for my suitcase.

  “Really?” His disbelief is there, and I can see him approach me from the corner of my eye. He stops a few feet away but leans as close as he can from where he stands. “Cause it looks like you have frostbite on your face…I think there’s some bat poop on your shoulder too.”

  I swat at my shoulder with my spare hand and notice there isn’t anything there. With an aggravated grunt I move forward, pulling my suitcase angrily behind me. I can hear Declan’s lively chuckle, “Julie, come on...I was joking!”

  I manage to beat him across the parking lot and to the grand entrance of the lodge, but as I’m heaving my suitcase behind me on the stone steps, he hurries around me. By the time I get near the top of the stairs, my arms are tingling from the weight of my suitcase. I almost let it go as I reach the top of the staircase.

  “Need some help?” Declan asks.

  “Shut up,” I mutter as I leave my suitcase on the step behind me and look ahead. The entrance doors are made of frosted glass but the door handles are wooden and carved whimsically. Declan pries the door in front of me open and gestures for me to enter.

  I turn my head from him and reach for my suitcase, giving it a final tug so it lands next to me. I then wheel it towards the other door, which I open for myself, and walk through.

  My feet land on top of a large, black squishy welcome mat, it adorbs the wet chunks of snow that fall from my boots. I’m standing in a grand front lobby, with beige floor tiles lining the room and high arched cathedral ceilings held up with the pillars of twisted wood. Several small wooden chandeliers hang from the ceilings. They look like they're made from branches as they twist into each other and expel large crystal light bulbs. The walls of the room are set with slatted stone, but there are incredible floor to ceiling windows towards the very back of the room, showcasing what might be a gorgeous view in the daytime.

  There are leather couches everywhere, with matching oak coffee tables, and lavish faux fur rugs. The room is littered with guests of the lodge’s, half of them fresh from the slopes with skiing gear still on and skis or snowboards rested near them.

  “Julie! Declan!”

  Oscar’s half Italian accent cascades around us and I see him appear to my right, down a flight of wooden stairs with a stunning matching wooden railing. He’s smiling widely as he reaches us, arms up in the air. Behind him trails Charlotte in a pair of suede overalls and white blouse. She towers over a short man struggling to keep up with her.

  “You have made it!” Oscar greets. He leans closer to me and kisses me once on the cheek, his stubble scratches me but I don’t make a movement except to remove my hat. “Thank God for Declan to pick you up on his way, eh?”

  Declan steps up next to me, and I can see him smirk. “Actually, she refused—”

  “I walked,” I interrupt. I run a hand through my hair before pulling off my gloves.

  “You walked?” the strange man next to Charlotte asks. His beady grey eyes bulge out at me. He couldn’t have been more than sixty, with a smoker’s voice. The chandelier lights reflected off his bald head, but his dark eyebrows rested high above. “You walked up the mountain r
oad? During this time of year? At this time of day?”

  “In those shoes?” Charlotte adds, giving them a stark glance.

  “It was thrilling,” I state, throwing her a small smile. I curl my dead toes inside my boots painfully. “Easy peasy for me.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Declan laughs, “just tranquil, I bet.”

  I slap Declan’s chest with my leather gloves as I look at Oscar. “By the way, what is he doing here?”

  “We lost our producer,” Charlotte answers barely phased by my aggravation. “And Declan’s schedule opened up.”

  “He’s worked with everyone before, Julie,” Oscar reminds me kindly. “As co-producer, he knows the ins and outs. He knows all of you. It saves us time, and money—”

  “Don’t you remember what I negotiated in my contract?” I ask Oscar. The director shifts awkwardly in his place and exchanges a glance with Charlotte, who shrugs her shoulders at me.

  “You said you didn’t want to work with Declan if he was scheduled at the time,” she repeats to me. I nod and open my mouth to reply but she beats me to it. “But, he wasn’t scheduled at the time to produce. Tanya Curley was.”

  I’ve been bamboozled.

  I lock eyes with her as my mouth parts slowly. “Are you kidding? You’re seriously going to pull that kind of—”

  “You can leave if you want, it's up to you,” Charlotte says, her tone civil and a bit bored as she adjusts the sleeves of her blouse. “Of course, then you will have to pay us the substantial loss we’ll take by paying out your sponsors. As you did also sign a contract to work with them, remember?” She stops adjusting her sleeves and gives me a tight grin as she looks into my eyes. “You understand all this, right?”

  I don’t think my jaw has ever clenched this hard in my entire life.

  For about ten seconds nobody says anything and I can’t stop staring down Charlotte Moore. Finally, Oscar steps in front of her and places his hands on my wet shoulders.

  “Let’s just everybody calm down shall we? Save the eye shots for the cameras!” He’s the only one who laughs at his joke. He steps up next to me, an arm around my shoulders and turns me to face the short man next to Charlotte. “Julie Duncan, this is Armin Spiro. He’s the owner, and the manager of the lodge. An old family friend of one of the cast members too.”

  I give him a lazy smile and he returns the same kind, again giving me a once over with his judgemental eyes. “We have you in room 131. It’s on the second floor, down the right side of the building. All of your cast members are in that wing. They are all suites.” He motions to my suitcase and soaking wet duffle bag. “Err, I will get a bellman to bring up your bags.”

  “Great.”

  I can’t muster any enthusiasm because I’ve noticed how Charlotte has stepped aside with Declan, and how they both give me a glance as they begin to whisper.

  “Tomorrow morning we’ll meet for breakfast and discuss the quick schedule run for the day,” Oscar gives me a tight squeeze as he leads me towards the stairs. “I am sure you will be very happy to see everyone again, Julie.”

  I don’t say anything as he lets me go and pushes me towards the first step. I slump my shoulders as he adds, “Now go up to your room, relax, and get a good night’s rest. We will come for you in the morning.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Declan and Charlotte have made their way to the Check-In desk, and that the bell man has arrived to take my bags. He picks them up, hanging from the pocket on his black vest is a set of keys with a red plastic tag that says R.131.

  I yank them from his pocket as he gets near me, and start stomping up the stairs.

  Chapter Four

  “Technically, she’s right. Those where your words at the meeting, Jules.”

  “Oh give me a break!” I scream. “You know that she’s being underhanded. She knew exactly what I meant when I said that. Everybody knew exactly what I meant!”

  I throw my toothbrush into the sink in the bathroom and look down at my cell phone. I’m supposed to meet the cast downstairs off a private room in the lodge’s restaurant in fifteen minutes. When I got to my room last night, I took an extra-long bath and attempted to go to bed early. I tossed and turned half the night.

  This morning I awoke feeling as if my cheeks were still tight and cool from the walk last night. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt before calling Fin.

  I lean my hands on the countertop, covered with my makeup and hair products, and a few brochures that list the resorts amenities. I look away from the spa’s beer soak pamphlet and at my image in the mirror. “I can’t work with him, Fin, I just can’t do it. Last night I couldn’t sleep just thinking that he was in a room somewhere on the same floor as I was.”

  He sighs on the other end. “Julie, you’re going to have to try. You signed a contract. And this one, unfortunately, is iron clad. The only way you get out of this is through a death, or if your life is in jeopardy.”

  I grunt. “Isn’t it?”

  “No, because you’ve come in with nothing this time. There isn’t a relationship for him to meddle with,” Fin reminds me sternly. There’s a pause after his words, and I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to speak or what but I don’t have any words.

  I give the bathroom a once over, it’s massive. There’s a jacuzzi tub behind me, and a shower with frosted glass doors and pod lights that beam from the ceiling and from the tiled shower floor. It could fit six or more people in it. There’s a pleated window above the jacuzzi which I’ve left shut. The long counter and cupboards are made from a cool, brown marble and have an intricate golden hue swirling through it. You can barely see it through the mess I’ve made.

  “Jules?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll be fine. Just focus on getting through the next seven days and making up with Reagan. I bet she’s just as nervous as you are.”

  “I’m not nervous…”

  “Really? After what you did to her? I sure as hell would be.”

  “Okay, I’m a bit nervous…” I admit as I push away from the counter. “Do you think she’ll be happy to see me?” I hear Fin smirk on his end and I know his answer. My left hand goes back onto the counter and I begin to tap my fingers anxiously. “What if she won’t even speak to me?”

  “I doubt she’ll ignore you,” Fin answers, “she’s too nice.” Something cuts out and a second later Fin speaks. “Jules, that’s Oscar. I better get it.”

  I immediately perk up. “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know, do I? As I haven’t taken the call yet.... I’ll let you know in a bit. Enjoy breakfast.” I hear the dial tone and after a moment the call ends.

  Now I’m biting my lip again. What did Oscar want? Is he calling about Declan? He’s calling about Declan I bet. Maybe he feels bad for me, maybe he knows the story. Maybe he’s replaced him?

  I swipe my phone off the counter and finish getting ready to head downstairs.

  I take the stairs down to the lobby of the lodge as apprehensively as can be. My arms are folded over my chest tightly; my cell phone clenched in my right hand. I was told this morning that the restaurant was located around the stairs, and that we were meeting in one of the private dining rooms.

  I cross the restaurant skimming the faces I pass, but not recognizing anyone.

  The Crest Cafe is under a large wooden archway behind the grand stairs. The same kinds of chandeliers as in the lobby hang from the ceiling but so do dozens of tulle drapes from chandelier to chandelier. The tables are rectangular or square, made from thick pale wood. There’s a bar to my right, with leather cushioned bar stools. It smells like greasy bacon and bitter coffee as I enter the room, immediately my mouth starts to water.

  I spot the two private rooms to my left, and only one door is open. Standing in the doorway is Oscar, he’s speaking intently to a woman I haven’t seen before. She’s short, with curly strawberry blonde hair and a hea
dset over her head. She’s dressed in a pair of slacks and a bright yellow blazer. There’s a clipboard in her hand and as Oscar motions to the clipboard, the woman nods.

  I watch Oscar catch sight of me and smile. “Morning, Julie! Come in! We are all in here.”

  As I get nearer to him, he nudges the woman he’s with so she looks up at me. “Julie, Liz here is our new sound supervisor.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you.”

  Liz gives me a brief smile before stepping out of my way.

  “I have good news; your car was picked up on the side of the road this morning. It’s being shipped back to the car rental agency, on the show’s dime.” Oscar smiles as if he wants me to thank him. I don’t have it in me.

  After a second of silence, he claps his hands together and smiles again. “Well, go in and have a seat. Breakfast is already served,” He grasps my arm and pulls me closer to him. “Your old friends are waiting for you!”

  He swings me through the door and I practically stumble as he lets me go.

  The room is fairly sized, with one long rectangular table down the middle which is filled with different types of cooked eggs, and meats. Pastries and breads, different variations of coffee and tea sit at the very end of the table in canisters.

  Sitting at the table, next to each other, are Brooke Marshall and Jill Brady. As they look at me, they both smile and I’m struggling to keep my composure at the sight of them.

  Brooke Marshall, the loud, vibrant perfect mother and wife gives me an excited wave. It’s been four years since I’ve seen her but she looks very much the same, be it a few pounds heavier. Her hair dark, thick, and its curls looking unmanageable. Her face radiates enthusiasm as it always does when she smiles. “Julie!”

  “Hi,” I wave at the two of them as I reach the table. Jill stands from her seat and extends a hand to me. The gesture doesn’t surprise me, she was always so intense and formal when we were filming.