They both laughed heartily and didn’t notice when the front door opened. Sullivan and Brenda breezed into the house and got out of their coats. They were feeling good from their happy hour cocktails and they told Carter and Georgia in detail what they drank and ate at the St. Francis.
“How’d you get home?” Carter asked his brother.
Sullivan cocked his head. “An Uber. We’re not stupid.”
“I didn’t call you stupid, stupid!”
“You’re the stupid one!”
Brenda and Georgia exchanged looks.
“Shut the fuck up!” Carter yelled.
“Will you guys please stop it,” Brenda said. “Honestly, are you eight years old?”
“They do this sometimes,” Georgia said. She climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Boys will always be boys. Especially twin brothers.”
“Georgia! Your face,” Brenda exclaimed. “What happened, honey?”
Georgia turned slightly away. “We decided we wouldn’t talk about it anymore tonight. I’m fine.”
Brenda turned to Carter. “Did you do this?”
“Of course not,” Carter exploded. “What is wrong with you? That Italian asshole Massimo did that to her.”
“I knew it!” Brenda yelled. “I knew I didn’t like him.”
Georgia closed her eyes. “We’re not talking about this anymore tonight,” she repeated. “At all. Can we please just have a nice time?”
“We can, dear,” Brenda said. She turned back to the cook who was standing over his pots in the kitchen. “Spaghetti? My favorite. I love when other people cook for me.”
“Good. I was worried it might be too pedestrian for you.”
“Hogwash,” she said. “I’m just a simple girl.”
There was a knock at the front door and Sullivan went to answer it. A rush of cold air filled the Great Room again as Skyler entered with Mulder and Scully. “I didn’t ask, but I hope it’s okay that I brought the dogs. I felt sorry for them being all alone in that hotel room.”
The coonhounds bound over to Brenda and nearly knocked her over with exuberant, wet greetings. “Hi, hi, hi, hi, babies,” Brenda cooed. She turned to Sullivan. “Is this okay, Sully?”
“What do we care?” Sullivan said. “It’s not our house. And even if it were, they’d be most welcome. You know we allow dogs at the Franklin hotels, right? We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Well, that’s good, because these babies go everywhere I go. And I mean everywhere.” Brenda searched through the kitchen cabinets until she found some Tupperware bowls. She filled them with tap water and set them on the floor for the dogs.
“What do you do with guests who are allergic to animal dander?” Georgia asked.
“We send them to the Holiday Inn,” Carter said flatly.
Sullivan crinkled his face. “What? No we don’t. We set aside animal-free rooms. The reservation system keeps pretty good track of that sort of thing. We don’t want anyone having an attack.” He turned back to his brother. “What is wrong with you, Carter?”
“Eh. I think most supposed allergies are made up. Who could be allergic to a beautiful dog? It’s all in their heads, I tell ya,” Carter said.
“Tell that to my brother who is deathly allergic to peanuts,” Skyler said. “Just a few and he goes into anaphylactic shock. It’s not pretty. Believe me.”
“If you say so.” Carter busied himself with dinner preparations.
“Don’t listen to him,” Sullivan said to the women. “He just says shit like that to get a reaction out of people. If you don’t react, he stops.”
“Shut up, Sully,” Carter said. “Why do you hate dogs?”
The group enjoyed the hearty spaghetti dinner, complete with a Caesar salad and French bread. Carter presented decadent chocolate caramel cupcakes from a downtown spot called The Great Divide Bakery and they all agreed that the twins should consider a partnership to feature the treats at the new hotel.
Stuffed and happy, Sullivan suggested a dip in the hot tub.
Brenda went pale. “No one wants to see me in a bathing suit.”
“Who has a bathing suit with them? It’s December,” Georgia said.
Skyler had a sense where this was going and she knew everyone had just enough wine and cocktails inside them to ease their inhibitions. If she’d been alone with the twins, she would have never entertained the idea. But it was three against two, and she liked the odds. Plus, she had a very sweet spot for hot tubs on cold winter evenings. She was game and she agreed first.
Brenda was the last holdout, but it didn’t take the group too long to break her down; the brothers promised to close their eyes until she was submerged and that did the trick. Sullivan scooted from bathroom to bathroom rounding up the heavy terrycloth bathrobes provided by the owner of the house, and minutes later five pale naked bodies sunk into the glorious bubbling water. They were each furnished with a plastic tumbler of bourbon on ice to sip in the tub.
“I never dreamed that I’d be sitting a few feet from my business partners, naked as the day I was born,” Brenda said. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”
“We don’t have to let it change our working relationship,” Sullivan said with a sly smile. “Just relax and enjoy it.”
“The water feels so wonderful,” Skyler purred.
“Heaven,” Georgia said. “I definitely need to buy one of these for my house.”
There was a pause in the conversation when an animal howled in the near distance. Despite the warm temperature of the water, it sent a chill down Skyler’s back. “What on Earth was that?”
“Just a coyote,” Georgia said. “They don’t hurt people. Much.”
Skyler’s eyes widened.
“I’m kidding. I’m told that they stick to themselves. But their calls are something else, huh? There’s so much nature to get used to when you live in the high desert. And we thought we had a lot of animals in Manhattan.”
“Very different breeds of animals, for sure,” Sullivan said. “But I could get used to it here. Imagine—the closest neighbor is clear over there somewhere. You can’t even yell that far. This privacy is awesome. We’re not in the city anymore, people.”
“I like it,” Skyler said. “I don’t think I’d get naked in my backyard in D.C. I’m pretty sure there are Senators and diplomats who have a direct view of my back patio from their windows. I have a little bit more privacy in Maine, of course, but the neighbors are pretty close there, too. I wouldn’t do this.”
“Tell us about some of your clients, Skyler,” Georgia said. “I’m very intrigued by your business.”
Skyler took a sip of her drink. “I try not to divulge the names of the people I work for, but we’re all friends here, right? My biggest client right now is Carissa Lamb.”
“Oh my gosh,” the opera singer exclaimed. “She’s a superstar.”
“And she’s the most down to Earth, sweetest superstar you’ll ever meet,” Brenda added.
“That’s good to hear,” Georgia said. “You have no idea how many celebrities I have come across who turn out to be total jerks when you get to know them. I understand the need for a public persona, for the fans and all, but it all comes crashing down when you realize it’s all a big fat act.”
“You’re not fake, Georgia,” Carter said. “You’re the real deal.”
“Thank you, Carter. You’re so sweet. But I don’t have time for you now. I’m talking to someone more important than you.” She turned her head dramatically. “Who else, Skyler? Who else?”
“Noah Jones is a new one.”
“He is so dreamy,” Brenda added.
“The actor Noah Jones?” Georgia asked. “I love his movies. I just saw the one where he’s a spy in 1980’s London. Action packed, that one.”
“Yup. He’s a friend of Carissa’s—that’s how we got hooked up together. He’s starting his own boutique vodka brand and a restaurant to go with it, in Tulsa, where he’s from, and he wants to eventually take the
concept national. So, I’m working on that with him. I got Noah booked on CBS This Morning this coming Tuesday, in fact. One of my associates is accompanying him to the studio. I should be going myself, but, you know, I’m naked in a hot tub in Santa Fe.”
“Priorities,” Brenda said.
“I’m doing a lot with celebrity product development. Everyone has something to sell these days. That’s where the real money is. Folks are absolutely cleaning up on Q.V.C. and those other shopping channels.”
Carter and Sullivan exchanged looks. “What can we sell?” Sullivan asked after he read his brother’s mind.
“Franklin-Lowery bed sheets and towels, maybe?” Carter asked.
“A great idea!” Brenda said. “Are they your own line or someone else’s?”
“Someone else’s, for the time being,” Sullivan said. “But we’ve started talking to a manufacturing company in Turkey that creates private brands for companies. I think we could make a real killing with our own line.”
“As long as they’re well-made quality goods, comfortable, and reasonably priced, then absolutely,” Skyler said. “And I can absolutely build a buzz for it. That’s what I do, damn it.”
They all laughed.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Carter said. “Fuck you, Martha Stewart. It’s very exciting. Franklin sheets on every bed!”
“That should be the goal—why not?” Brenda said. “I do my own olive oils and a sparkling wine, as you all know, and I’ve made more dough from those things than I’ll ever make from the restaurants, cookbooks, and television shows. By leaps and bounds. It’s insanity, but in a very good way.”
A loud cracking noise came from the woods a few yards away and it got everyone’s attention. They saw a dark figure sprint away from the house and out of view.
“What the heck is that?” Sullivan asked.
Skyler started climbing out of the hot tub. “Let’s get in the house.”
The quintet scrambled into their robes and darted into the house dripping wet. When the door was closed and locked, Carter found his cellphone and dialed 911.
“You’re calling the police?” Sullivan asked.
“Well, I’m not calling for a pizza, dumb ass.”
“Will I get any rest?” Georgia exclaimed, clearly shaken. “Who was that out there?”
“It may not have been because of you, honey,” Brenda said trying to calm the singer. “Let’s go get dried off and dressed and let the boys deal with this.”
“That’s kind of sexist,” Skyler said. “I’m going to go out there and have a look around.”
Brenda grabbed her friend by the collar of her robe. “You most certainly are not going back out there! It’s pitch black, freezing cold, and you’re soaking wet, Skyler. Let’s wait for the police to arrive.”
And they did just that.
It took the local police over a half an hour to arrive, and by that time, the group was well into their next cocktail…and the intruder, whoever he or she was, was most certainly very long gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After Skyler, Brenda, and the dogs were chauffeured back to the Four Seasons—and when Sullivan retired to his suite for the night—Carter and Georgia slipped into Carter’s room and closed the door. They’d consumed many more drinks than was normal for both of them, and their judgement was compromised. Georgia was vulnerable and scared. And Carter was anxious and over-worked—he had been devoting all of his time to the hotel project, promising himself that he must sideline a social life—particularly a love life—until after the grand openings of the Santa Fe and Palm Springs properties.
But at this rate, there will always be hotel opening, he told himself. He worried about falling into a life of loneliness and celibacy. What kind of life would that be? He decided he’d refocus on work the next day.
“You know it’s already tomorrow,” Georgia said in a slurred whisper. She lay down on his bed and propped her head up with a palm. “It’s the Sabbath, too.”
Carter struggled out of his shoes, nearly toppling over a few times. He steadied himself by grabbing on to the dresser. “What are you saying?” He wrestled out of his sweater and slacks. “Should I go?”
“No. No, I want you to stay. I do. It’s just…it’s definitely been awhile for me.”
“Same. What’s up with that? We’re in the prime of our lives.” He sat down at the foot of the bed. He pulled off his socks with one hand and stroked her hair with the other. “You have a pretty head.”
“Thank you. It was a present from my parents.” She snorted at her own joke. “My goodness. Did you hear that sound I just made?”
“I did,” Carter laughed. “It was super attractive.”
“I guess I don’t have to seduce you, Carter. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve had sex.”
“I’m not sure it’s the next time either.”
She had been staring at the lump in his black Ralph Lauren briefs, but now her eyelids were closing. “What do you mean?”
“Georgia, I’ve had like 183 shots of bourbon tonight, on top of all that wine.”
“Whiskey dick?” she asked, not opening her eyes.
“Probably. That’s not exactly what I was thinking, though. I’m just so damned exhausted. And very full of spaghetti and bread.”
“That’s okay, honey. I’m better in the morning, anyway. Let’s just cuddle and get warm.”
He lay down next to her and put an arm across her back. “I like that idea.”
He was lightly snoring within 30 seconds.
What seemed like just a few moments—although it might have been much longer, she wasn’t sure—Georgia turned over and sat straight up. “Carter!”
His arm flipped upward rolling his body off the mattress and he landed with a thud on the floor. He opened his eyes and found that he was staring at dust bunnies under the bed. “What the hell happened?”
“Did you hear that?” she asked in a loud whisper. She peered over the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“What did you hear? How long was I asleep?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t know what it was, but it was loud. Go look around.” She pulled her legs up to her body and hugged them close to her chest. “What could it have been?”
Carter found a dry robe and wrapped it around his body. He managed to get his shoes back on and headed into the main room. He looked ridiculous in the white terry robe, bare legs, and brown leather loafers without socks.
Sullivan was standing in the hall in the exact same getup. “Did you hear that, too?”
“No, I just thought it would be fun to come out here and say hello to you,” Carter said.
“Hello.”
Carter hit his brother in the arm. “Shut up and find a flashlight.”
“Why don’t we just turn on all the lights instead?” Sullivan started walking through the kitchen and Great Room, flipping every switch and raising every dimmer that he passed. Soon the house was bathed in light. He went to the patio doors and turned on the outside spotlights. That’s when he saw red brake lights at the end of the driveway. He flipped off the spotlights and watched as a vehicle continued down the dirt road and banked around a corner and was gone. “Well, someone was here. Again.”
Carter was right next to him. “Who the heck was it and what did he do while he was here? It was loud.”
“I’m not going out there to find out.”
“Should we call the police again?” Carter asked.
“They just left, man, and anyway, by the time they get their butts back up here, that person in that car will be long gone.” He turned the spotlights back on. “Let’s leave all the lights on and go to bed. I don’t see any broken windows and all the doors are still locked. We’ll figure out this craziness tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’m too tired to fight with you.”
“Good,” Sullivan said. “You’re smartening up, buddy boy.”
Carter would have rolled his eyes, but they were too heavy. “G
oodnight.” He returned to his room, lost the robe and shoes, and climbed under the covers. He didn’t even notice that the opera singer wasn’t there anymore. And if he had, he probably wouldn’t have cared. He was unconscious within seconds.
After he relieved himself in the half bathroom off the Great Room, Sullivan found Georgia standing in the kitchen.
“What was it?” she asked him.
“Nothing that I could find. Let’s get some sleep. The house is still all buttoned up.”
She grabbed his arm and they walked together to his suite. He didn’t give it a moment’s thought when she disrobed and got between his covers. He turned off the light, dropped his robe, and got into bed with her. After a few minutes of making out, he was hard and inside of her.
“I thought you were too tired,” she moaned as she received him.
“Never.” He kissed her hungrily up and down her slender neck. He kept a steady pace and she seemed to be receptive to his speed and style. They both started breathing heavy and reaching a state of near-climax at the same time.
“Oh, Carter.”
He froze for a moment but didn’t pull out. “Sullivan. Sullivan,” he said softly into her ear. “Call me by my name, please.”
That’s when it was her time to freeze. Oh shit.
In the morning light, the twins managed to take showers and get dressed, despite near-debilitating hangovers, then they went outside and scoured the grounds for evidence of the trespasser. Or trespassers, as the case may have been. They found nothing out of the ordinary.
Over toasted bagels and bananas, they discussed the immediate future with Georgia, who was still unnerved.
“Well, I’m going back to my house, for one thing,” she explained. “There’s no security system here and my house is much closer to town and the police station.”
“I really don’t feel good about leaving you alone,” Carter said, “but we have so much work to do. Even though it’s a Sunday.”
She smiled sweetly. “I completely understand. And, like I said before, it’s not your job to babysit me. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
The New Mexico Scoundrel Page 7