“I’m a little busy,” she started and turned around.
I looked down.
“It’s about Claire.”
She must have seen something in my expression, because I could feel her eyes rest on my face, and there was a slight hesitation after she breathed in before she spoke.
“Alright then, but just a minute. There’s still so much to do, and Claire hasn’t been as much help as I’d hoped. Where is she now?”
“She went for a walk, I think.”
“Alone?”
“Well, yes. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Has she said anything to you? Anything that… I don’t know… anything about us?”
Olivia looked at me, a slight frown on her face, and she tipped her head to the side a little. Family trait. Somehow the child-like gesture didn’t look that attractive on just-past-middle-aged Olivia as it did on Claire.
“We haven’t really spoken about your relationship, more about relationships in general. There’s never really that much to say about you, is there?”
I sighed. I hadn’t realized we’d sunk as far into nothingness as that.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I mumbled.
“Afraid? What are you talking about?”
I shuffled my feet a bit, jammed my hands in my pockets and pulled them out again, rubbed my stubbly chin.
“I think the fighting has gotten too much. I think she’s blocked me off now. I’m scared of where it will lead us.”
“Have you guys been fighting?”
She must have been joking. I looked up at her, knowing that a horrible expression was plastered across my face and still unable to stop it.
“What?” she asked with a tight voice, stiffening her shoulders.
“We fight all the time!”
Her eyebrows pulled together and she wrinkled only the one side of her nose, making her look a little comical.
“What are you talking about? You and Claire are perfect. You never have any problems.”
Yeah right.
“Wasn’t Claire here after we arrived?” I asked carefully.
“She was, she came to say, “Hi”. She was telling me how good things were between you and that you’re in line for a promotion.”
I shook my head and looked around the room. It was a large room, much bigger than ours. I wondered briefly how it was fair that one person got a room twice as big as ours when we obviously needed the space. The cramped room was almost too small for me alone, sometimes, let alone the both of us in there together. I tried to search my mind for any way that any of this could make sense. Finally, finding nothing, I looked down at my feet.
“The truth is,” I said so softly that Olivia had to take a step closer, “we fight all the time. It was alright, I guess. Well, fighting is never alright, but at least there was still something. But now… it just feels like she’s slipping away from me.”
I looked into her sister’s pale green eyes, and their curiosity urged me to go on. “She’s just so distracted now, like she doesn’t need me at all anymore, like she used to, after fighting at least. She’s on her phone for work all the time, and it’s fine I guess, she has some emergency, but she doesn’t get upset with me like she used to.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I don’t know… it just feels like she’s switched off now. We’re not fighting, but we’re further apart than we’ve ever been before; She’s keeping me at arm’s length.”
I walked over to the bed and sank onto it, my head in my hands. Olivia looked a little unsure how to deal with it. She walked over to the bed slowly, and sat down beside me, perching on the bed like she really didn’t want to be there. Didn’t really want me to be there.
“I’m sure everything will be alright,” she said in a voice that sounded anything but sure, “maybe she’s just trying to sort things out for herself. My getting married is a big deal, maybe the whole thing with our parents is getting to her.”
I’d heard this thing about her parents before. She used it all the time when something ridiculous happened and she didn’t want me to think her silly. I’d always thought it a bit of a cop out. I’d never seen parents so calm and collected. It didn’t look like anything ever upset them, and meeting them had been very formal and without complications. Claire resented them for splitting up. She hated seeing them. It was always a problem when we were headed out to visit one of them. I didn’t see what the big issue was. I quite liked how straight forward and without complications they were. Both of them. I didn’t know where Claire had inherited her drama and her emotional states from.
“I don’t think you really need to worry,” Olivia said, interrupting my thoughts, “just give her some time to deal with it all. I’m pretty sure that once the wedding is over and you’re back in your normal routine you’ll go straight back to being the happy couple you’ve always been.”
I nodded and stood up. Olivia was very careful to keep things light, and she looked relieved when I made to leave. She walked to the door and opened it for me.
“It will be alright, really,” she said as I walked past her. What was it they said about women? It doesn’t matter what they say, if they back it up with ‘really’ at the end, it’s probably not true.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I didn’t feel better. It had been a long shot to talk to Olivia at all; Claire hadn’t spoken to her in so long. But there had been no one else I could have turned to, and I knew she’d gone to her after our fight the first day.
Only, now it seemed that Claire had never told Olivia anything about the fight. My mind felt muddled, all the theories I’d been brooding over thrown into chaos. Olivia honestly seemed to think that we were the perfect couple. Why hadn’t Claire told her what was really going on? A dim flicker of hope lit up inside of me.
I waited in our room, and it wasn’t long after that she came in. Her cheeks were flush with the heat of exercise. She was wearing those tight tights I hated her wearing in public, and a shirt that matched. Thin strands of hair that had come out of her ponytail hung limply in her face. The flush in her cheeks and the disheveled mess of hair made her green eyes stand out, and she was beautiful.
“Enjoy your walk?” I asked, and walked to her to kiss her. She turned her face a little and the kiss landed up on the corner of her mouth, between her cheek and where it belonged. I winced.
“I’m sorry, darling, I’m all sweaty,” she said when she saw the look on my face, “I went for a run, the weather is glorious and I’ve been cooped up for long enough.”
She turned and walked to the bathroom, and called over her shoulder, “I’m going to take a shower, meet me downstairs for lunch, won’t you?”
The door closed behind her, and the square feeling of being shut down hit me full on. She was so distant now, I could barely reach her. She was like a statue, perfect to look at, pointless to touch, flawless. I listened to groan of the pipes in the walls as the water turned on and then the even sound of the droplets splashing down on the planes of her body. It sounded like the static on the television when there was no signal. How fitting.
I walked down the stairs. My legs were heavy, and crashed into the steps one at a time as my mood dragged down my weight. By the time I got to the lobby I was twice as heavy as I’d been before. Quite a number of wedding guests had arrived by now. I could hear the soft murmur of conversation drifting from the restaurant as they enjoyed lunch. A group of people stood in the corner close the door, talking and laughing. I looked at them. They all looked so happy, smiles on their faces, conversation bubbling out of them like water from a tap, and not a care in the world. They were here for the wedding, the celebration of love. We were here for that too, I had to remind myself. Somehow I just couldn’t get myself to agree that love was worth celebrating in any way anymore. Not the kind of love I was left behind with. I felt empty, and lonely, and hopeless, just like my marriage.
A burst of laughter and a woman’s little yelp drew my attention
to the door. An old-ish looking man with strawberry blond wavy hair and watery blue eyes stepped through the door and dropped his luggage with flair. The people in the lobby applauded and two walked over to hug him.
“Harry! You’re here!” someone squealed behind me and Olivia flew past me in a flurry of pastel greens and blues. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him so passionately that many people turned their heads away in embarrassment. I scrunched my face and looked away.
“I couldn’t stay away a minute longer,” he said, again dramatic, and some of the guests cooed.
“You’re a sweetheart, oh I’ve missed you so much.”
I looked at Olivia, so head over heels for this man, and felt jealousy and something sad push up inside my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time Claire had been so happy to see me. I doubted she ever missed me anymore.
“It’s bad luck to see each other the last day before the wedding!” someone shouted from the restaurant.
“Nothing about us being together can ever be bad,” Harry cried out and they laughed, Olivia’s eyes on her future husband glittering.
“You can have the afternoon together, but tonight we have to draw the line,” one of the older ladies said from behind me.
“That’s right, we’ll take old Harry out for his last night on the town as a free man,” the men laughed raucously and Olivia pulled a face.
“What’s going on?” Claire appeared by my side, and took in the scene. Her face lit up and something soft glowed in her eyes. Her hair was still wet, hanging loosely in wavy strands around her face and she smelled sweet and clean. Her red shirt was wet around the neck where her hair hung.
“Harry came,” she breathed dreamily, “Olivia must be so happy. He’s really a darling, isn’t he?” It sounded like the question might be addressed to me, but she never looked at me.
“Mm-hmm,” I answered, hoping that would cover it.
Olivia dragged Harry over to us by his arm, and he looked pleased with her eagerness.
“Andrew,” she said excitedly and I fought my body’s instinctive reaction to cower away from a request, “please go out with the men tonight? It will be Harry’s bachelor party, and you simply can’t miss it. You’re the youngest one here, you have to show these old men how to do it,” she nudged Harry and he pretended to be offended.
“It really isn’t my kind of thing—“ I started but Claire cut me off.
“Oh Andrew, it will be perfect!” she turned to Olivia, “just the other night he told me about this bar he found, that will be a great place to start. Come on, Andrew, it will be fun, welcome him to the family. You should take Gavin with you, too.”
I was instantly annoyed. I hated being told what to do. I didn’t want to go out on a drinking spree with a man that looked like he was twice my age and had a thing for being the center of attention. I didn’t want to go out with anyone at all, in fact. I wanted to sit in the room, with Claire if that was at all possible, and feel sorry for myself and the state my relationship had sunken into. I didn’t want to entertain a groom that got on the band-wagon almost too late.
Claire must have understood the expression under my false smile. Her eyes narrowed at me ever so slightly.
“Alright,” I said, not making an effort to sound enthusiastic, “Cole’s it is then.”
“And you’ll remember Gavin, won’t you?”
“He’s the receptionist, dear,” I said, my smile still there and even less genuine.
“I know, but he’s been so kind, taking you out. You have to return the favor.”
I sighed. She was going to get her way. She was too persistent. Maybe Gavin’s company wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe a distraction was what I really needed.
Chapter Ten - Claire
I stood by the window at the end of the long corridor on our floor, looking out onto the drive. A bunch of men were trying to pile themselves into two cars. Andrew was standing by, not making an effort to help. I took a step to the side, hiding myself behind the curtains, but it was dark, the corridor light was off, and his attention was somewhere else. Not on the commotion in front of him.
A twinge of guilt tugged at my gut, and I sighed deeply. I probably shouldn’t have pushed him into going like that. He’d been off the whole day. But I hadn’t known how else to get Gavin out of the way. Since I’d seen him watching me at the bar, his face had been haunting me. It had gotten so much that I’d needed to get out for a run. My stomach contracted when I thought of the look Andrew had given me when I told him I was headed out. He’d looked like he believed it was his fault. But I couldn’t risk it. I was a bundle of nerves, knowing that Gavin had seen me with Peter. The fist clenched tighter around my insides.
I was suddenly angry. It felt like the blood was boiling under my skin, and I fidgeted, struggling to stand still. Who was Gavin anyway? He was just a silly kid. There was nothing wrong with having a made a friend. And he’d stared at my cleavage, I couldn’t forget about that. Andrew had something against him, didn’t he? Something that would cause him not to trust him completely. I hoped it was true.
The cars finally pulled off, and I was left behind in the echo of their presence. A strange stillness settled over the hotel. I walked back to my room. It wasn’t the kind of quiet I enjoyed. It felt like I didn’t have control over all the different pieces of me. I was struggling to keep them together, to hold them all in one place. Peace and quiet weren’t always related.
I paced around the room, unable to relax. I sat down, only to stand up again, and start pacing. I was coming undone at the seams, and I knew that once I was completely unraveled I would scatter into nothing. It was driving me up the wall. I couldn’t escape to the bar, either. They were headed there now, the whole wedding party, Andrew, Gavin, everyone I had tried to get rid of.
My phone vibrated in my pocket against my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I pulled it out, and read the message three times. It felt like my chest was fluttering. Panic rose, and I tasted it at the back of my throat. The walls around me stretched and pulled away, leaving me in a void that left me drowning without water. I slowly nodded to myself, told myself it was the only way to stop this, the only way I could escape the void that was swallowing me. My fingers stiffly jumped over the little buttons on the keypad. Ten minutes later I walked downstairs and found him at reception.
“Nice place,” he said, whistling through his teeth as he turned around looking up at the ceiling, “look at the woodwork on this place.”
That’s right, he was a carpenter. Window frames or something, he’d said.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” I said and tried to smile, but my voice sounded flat and I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice it hadn’t reached my eyes.
“So, is a drink at the bar here just as cheap as at Cole’s? Or am I sharing your virgin juice tonight?”
“Peter,” I said, feeling embarrassed, feeling exposed and unsure. I looked around me, but it didn’t look like anyone was paying attention. The lady behind reception was paging through a magazine and the guests were busy with each other, “I’d rather go upstairs. The bar is ridiculous, and I don’t really think I could put up a face tonight.”
He nodded, and followed me as I walked to the stairs. Halfway up, I suddenly realized what this must look like to him. I stopped.
“I don’t mean…” I struggled to find my words, “I don’t mean for it to come across as…”
“You just need a distraction, I get it,” he smiled and his brown eyes were warm, melting away at the edges of the iron fist in my stomach, the burn of panic around the edges of my sanity. I breathed out.
We walked into the bedroom. I made a point of not sitting on the bed. What was it they said about men? They only think of one thing if there’s a bed or couch involved.
“What’s got you all worked up?” his voice was soft, and his face was open, welcoming me to unload.
I hesitated for a second, feeling a lump rise unexpectedl
y in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down. It just kept on coming. I looked out of the window, focusing hard not to let the tears spill over my eye lids, but they did anyway.Why did this have to happen now? I always had such a good grip. The pieces started rolling away from me, and I couldn’t reach them all in time. I rolled my lips on each other, and breathed out a shaky breath. I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt ashamed for crying.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice softer still, and it just made it worse. A sob escaped my throat and I covered my face with my hands.
He walked over to me, and put his hands around my wrists, tugging gently. I breathed in deeply and blinked my eyes, composing my face so I would look elegant at least, albeit weak.
“You don’t have to hide yourself from me. There’s nothing wrong with crying.”
“There’s everything wrong with crying,” I said and my voice trembled on the last word, “it’s silly of me to not be able to keep it together.”
He wrapped his arms around me, and his shoulder was right there for me to push my face into, but somehow that just made the crying worse. I clenched my jaw hard and furiously fought to get myself back under control. I tilted my head up to him and stepped away from him.
“You’re not good with being close, are you?” he asked, and the question made me jump. It had been five years with Andrew, and he’d never noticed it.
“It’s not hard to tell, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he said when I didn’t answer, and I wondered if it was written plain on my face or if he was just making things up as he was going along, hitting home by accident.
“It’s just safer that way,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.Where had that come from?
He nodded, urging me on.
“There just wasn’t a lot of affection in our family,” I started, “or there was, physical affection, but nothing that was reliable or didn’t come at a cost. I think that’s what it is. It comes at a cost.”
A shudder travelled through my body as my brain heard the words I’d refused to assign to the feelings that I’d pushed away so fervently for so many years.
DECEPTION HOTEL: A Wedding, an Affair, and Murder for Hire Page 5