by JLee Meyer
She hesitated at the door and looked over her shoulder uncertainly. With heartfelt emotion, she said, “Excuse me.” Then she left.
Staring at the closed door, Stef said, “What was that all about?”
Denny and Sika sat in the chairs Boynton and Brady had just vacated.
Sika said, “Well, we have the money to continue. We are grateful.”
Denny and Stef sighed at the same moment, Stef saying, “Funny, I don’t feel grateful. I feel in debt. Enormous debt.”
“It’s our dream to bring this hotel back to life for women travelers, for women. Every man we’ve encountered has told us we cannot do it. It will never make money if we rely solely on women as clientele. Now how do you feel?” Sika was studying them. She always seemed to say the right thing at the right moment.
Stef felt her eyes narrow and her body straighten. She saw the same thing happen to Denny. “I feel like fuck…uh, screw…um…to hell…damn, Mamaka. It’s hard not to swear when you’re telling someone off.”
Bursting into laughter, Sika hugged her and Denny. “Well, thank you for thinking of me, but I agree, to hell with them. They don’t know women very well. We just have to get the word out. I’ll work on that, you two get this hotel finished.”
*
Stef felt restless. Laurel was finally in the hotel again, after skipping almost a week, but hadn’t been up to greet her. They’d been avoiding each other, so Stef wasn’t entirely surprised to be ignored again, but she wasn’t in the mood tonight. It was time they had an adult conversation, she decided, and stalked downstairs composing what she planned to say.
Laurel’s door was usually open, but tonight it was closed and Stef could hear voices in the room. One was Laurel’s, but she sounded different somehow. Stef waited a moment, thought about leaving, then knocked. When the door was jerked open, she was looking at a very angry stranger.
“What do you want?”
Momentarily stunned by the rudeness, Stef was speechless.
Laurel appeared at the woman’s side, looking small and anxious. “Rochelle, this is Stefanie Beresford, the owner of the hotel.”
She had stressed Stef’s last name, as if trying to impress the rude woman. It must have worked because “Rochelle” was suddenly all smiles and extended her hand.
“Oh, Ms. Beresford. I’m Dr. Rochelle Jacobs, Department Chair of Women’s Studies at Cal. Sorry, I was in the middle of examining the documents and was so absorbed that I forgot my manners. Thank you for letting me have access to these precious pieces of women’s history.” She pumped Stef’s hand gratuitously, then dropped it to stand back and study her from head to toe. “Very nice to meet you indeed.”
The tone of her voice made Stef decidedly uncomfortable. She was flirting. She probably expected Stef to be flattered. Coughing into her hand gave her the opportunity to think of a response. She glanced quickly at Laurel, who was studying the floor, blushing. She was probably thoroughly embarrassed. The urge to throw Rochelle Jacobs out made Stef’s hands itch. She wondered what the woman was even doing here.
“I’m surprised to see anyone but Dr. Hoffman here. It’s her project.” Stef kept her tone neutral, her face schooled to match it.
Jacobs sought to clarify. “Oh, my, no. Laurel is an assistant professor, she doesn’t have full tenure. With a find like this, she’ll need my guidance to introduce it to the right people.”
That explanation was supposed to impress, Stef was sure. “Really? Because she’s the only one who has permission to be examining the contents of this room.”
Jacobs’s eyes hardened and her jaw muscles worked overtime. “Laurel is my employee. I need to show her how to handle the journals, how to introduce the material to the media. She’s also my partner. She’ll share.”
“She’s right here in the room. Maybe we should ask her.” Stef had had about enough of this officious bitch.
They both turned to Laurel, and for the first time since Stef had known her, she looked afraid. Her hands were clasped tightly together, and she was slightly hunched as if protecting herself. If Stef needed any proof that Jacobs was the one who had abused her previously, this was it. The urge to go to her, stand between her and the tall, imposing, and pissed-off woman was so strong she had to fight for control. But Laurel gave no indication she needed her help. Except one. A pleading look that lasted no more than a second.
With that look, Stef understood that if she threw Jacobs out, or embarrassed her in any way, Laurel would pay the price for it. She couldn’t allow that.
Jacobs said, “Laurel, explain to Ms. Beresford how the university system is organized.” Her tone was light, patronizing, but Stef heard a threat in it and tried for damage control.
“You’re right. I really don’t want to put anyone on the spot. I just don’t understand how all this works.” Her false naïveté seemed to help.
Laurel went into a long explanation, probably memorized word for word, of the pecking order in the university. Only half listening, Stef was paying more attention to the body language between the two women. As the monologue went on, Jacobs seemed to get taller and Laurel to shrink, right before Stef’s eyes. After she’d finished making her partner feel big and important, she cast another brief, pleading glance in Stef’s direction.
Stef understood exactly what she needed to do. With a careless shrug, she said, “Whatever Laurel decides is fine by me. I guess I was just saying that I’d prefer if she were the only one who did the work at the hotel. She must be the only one with a key. This place is under renovation, as you can tell. We already have security issues and our insurance is sky high. She’s signed a waiver releasing us from liability if she becomes ill from the dust.”
Laurel tilted her head for a second before nodding vigorously. Playing her role, she added timidly, “Stefanie has kept me supplied with industrial masks.” As if Jacobs would care about lung damage to her partner when there was prestige up for grabs.
“We should move all this material to the university.” Jacobs was obviously salivating for compete control. “It will be safe there.”
Shaking her head slowly, as if considering the idea, Stef said, “Can’t allow that, sorry. It stays here. We need the material for promotion and stuff like that. We don’t even know if this is all of it, and it isn’t catalogued. We wouldn’t know if anything went missing.”
Frustrated, Jacobs offered, “Well, we’ll catalogue the collection for you, naturally.”
Smiling her best, Stef said, “That’s what Laurel’s agreed to do. You see, she’s already tried to get the papers out of here and back to the university. But I wouldn’t cooperate. I’ve been stung before, no offense to you.”
Stef was damned proud of that lie. It would put Laurel on Jacobs’s side and Jacobs could be upset with Stef instead. Maybe, if she was lucky, Jacobs would try to take a swing, physically threaten her. Stef would absolutely love to have a crack at her.
Staring hard at her, Jacobs seemed to force a casual tone. “Well, in my opinion, everything would be much safer at school. As you said, this place is a rat trap right now. Until it’s remodeled, of course.”
Why, you fucker. Stef was about to lay into her when Laurel said, “Rochelle, that’s not fair. I’ve seen some of the top floors and they will be stunning, I’m sure. Stefanie is sparing no expense on the renovations.”
Seeming to notice Laurel was still there, Jacobs insincerely said, “You’ve seen the rest of the hotel? Oh, my mistake. Please accept my apologies. Laurel, I think it’s time we went to dinner. Some of our colleagues are meeting at a new place in Berkeley and we can get there only a little late. Ms. Beresford, a pleasure.” She offered her hand in dismissal.
Stef took her leave, but not without trying to give Laurel a smile of encouragement. Laurel never took her eyes away from Jacobs, but her attention was not adoring. Stef read the body language with a sick feeling. Laurel was on guard and looking for the next blow.
*
Laurel returned to her note
s, searching for some juicy tidbit to distract Rochelle from her constant griping about Stef and perhaps act as a peace offering. Days had passed since the showdown at the hotel, and Rochelle was still brooding. The silence lasted maybe a minute, with Laurel acutely aware of Rochelle standing in the middle of her office, arms folded, staring at her.
“You’re fucking her.” The words were spat with such venom Laurel involuntarily flinched.
This accusation was a new low, even for Rochelle. And she was sober, too. Laurel’s alarms were going off, big time. “What did you say? That’s nonsense. I am with you, Rochelle, and I am working on a significant find. Why would I do such a thing?”
“That’s how you got her to say that you had exclusive access to that shit. You’re fucking her. Why else would she do it?”
Laurel was momentarily speechless. It was one thing to constantly degrade her, but why pick on Stef? “Because everything she said is true? Because she’s honorable and is a nice person? Those thoughts never entered your mind, did they, Rochelle?”
Weary from the constant battle that was Rochelle Jacobs, Laurel had allowed the words to slip out, unedited. Rochelle’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You have a crush on her. Maybe she hasn’t fucked you, but you want her to, don’t you?” She was leaning closer now and Laurel reflexively tried for some distance, feeling her face heat as she quickly searched for space. Unexpectedly, Rochelle started laughing. Her face contorted into a sneer and she spat, “Why on earth would you think a rich bitch like that would be attracted to you? Maybe Kate, but you? She could have anyone she wanted, and you’re nothing but a junior instructor who takes all the pitiful leftovers anyone trying to dump a job heaps on you. And you just nod and do their bidding, Little Mary Bookworm. You’re a joke.”
If Rochelle had slapped her as hard as she could it wouldn’t have hurt as much as those words. It was as though Rochelle knew how to cut her heart out and did it with surgical precision. Laurel’s secret fear had always been that she would yet again be second to Kate. Rochelle had made it abundantly clear that that would have been her preference, too. Once Stef met Kate, any foolish dreams Laurel had would finally be put to rest.
“Why are you with me if I’m so unworthy?”
After a brief silence, Rochelle said, “I often wonder myself. Perhaps because I like being waited on, perhaps because I took pity on you. But don’t push it, Laurel. And don’t even think about trying to make it with Stefanie Beresford. You’re not in her league.” Straightening up, she dusted some imaginary lint off of her jacket. “If you try to screw me over on my new find, I’ll bury you and I’ll bury the information as well. I’ll claim that they’re all forgeries and I’ll make it stick. I’ll also find a way to discredit Beresford and her new women’s hotel. Now get up and let’s go. I want a drink.”
As Laurel stood and gathered her purse and the papers she wanted to take home, she was amazed at how calm she felt. Maybe it was because Rochelle hadn’t gotten violent, and she was relieved to have escaped the worst. Perhaps that was part of it. But something else had happened, too. As the cruel words spilled out of Rochelle’s very sober mouth, Laurel knew that she would not put up with this poor excuse for a human being any longer. It might cost her tenure, she might have to give up the idea of being a professor, but she would be gone from this woman, and the sooner, the better. As for Stef, what did it matter? Rochelle was right about that, if nothing else. Stef was out of her league.
Chapter Eleven
On her way across campus toward the BART station, Ember stopped at one of the many coffee kiosks for a triple-shot latte. Working full time and researching stuff for Mrs. Castic in addition to the assigned readings in Dr. Hoffman’s class was taking a toll. On top of all that, she’d overheard Jock and Denny talking about an incident last week between Stefanie, Dr. Hoffman, and that jerk partner of hers, Dr. Jacobs. Threats about the research project being coopted. Ember wished she’d never opened her mouth to the other students. It was her fault that Dr. Jacobs had heard about the discovery.
Morosely, she ordered the latte and leaned against the counter. Maybe she should go apologize to Dr. Hoffman since she’d obviously caused a problem. How was she supposed to know the papers were a big secret? She’d just assumed Dr. Hoffman would tell her partner, even if Dr. Jacobs was a skank.
As the waiter put her drink on the counter, someone slapped a twenty down to pay for it and a male voice behind her said, “I guess I owe you that.”
Ember turned sharply, expecting to have to deal with an aggressive flirt. Instead, she was face-to-face with a very clean and shaven Joey G. She might not have recognized her heroin addict street friend if not for his bright smile. To say he looked different was an understatement.
“Joey G? Is that really you?” She couldn’t believe it.
“Yup. ’Tis I. And I have you to thank for it.” He bowed, gave her the change and her latte, and offered his arm. “Can I walk you?”
They found seats on the train to San Francisco and she studied him. “Joey, what happened? The last time I saw you, you were strung out and mugging old ladies.”
“Yes, I was. Remember you gave me that twenty and told me get to rehab?”
“I remember. I didn’t think you’d do it, though.”
“You were right. I went straight to my dealer and tried to pay him with the twenty even though he told me he wanted fifty. He beat the shit out of me.”
“Oh, Joey, I’m sorry I didn’t have more. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Ember felt terrible. The poor guy was a junkie, not a thug.
“I know, I know. Turns out it was the best thing you could have done for me. When I woke up in a pool of my own puke, and a few other things, I’d already started to withdraw. I barely made it to the ER. The doctor called my folks and they stuck me in rehab.”
“Wow, what a story. Are you living at home now?”
“Nope. I’m taking classes and have a job. I’m too damned busy to use, and I’m paying my parents back for the cost of rehab. They don’t have any money. They used all their savings.”
Curious, Ember asked, “What job are you working? Where do you live?”
“I take care of a warehouse south of Market. Gotta start somewhere. Turns out there’s not much call for a professional purse snatcher. I’m sharing a loft with a guy I met in rehab, Ben. He had a cocaine problem but we’re both clean and sober now.” He looked slightly bashful.
Ember picked up on his funny little smile. “Joey, is Ben your boyfriend?” They’d never really talked about much in those days, but Ember knew he’d turned a few tricks to support himself. Selling sex was part of life on the streets, a last resort she was always grateful she’d been able to avoid.
Joey’s ears were pinking up nicely. “Yup. He’s a few years older and much wiser. He’s, like, a computer genius. Now he’s developing software and beta testing and stuff like that. His employer owns the warehouse and he got me the job. It’s very cool.”
“I am so happy for you, Joey, really.”
“You look great, too. Not on the street anymore either?” His gray eyes shone as he took in her clean clothes and scrubbed look. Not Abercrombie and Fitch, but not free at the church, either. She’d paid for them herself.
“I’m living in a hotel and working for the contractor that’s remodeling it. Remember that old lady whose purse you tried to steal?”
“You mean do I remember getting that black eye you gave me? It was nothing compared to what happened later.” He grinned, so Ember knew he was okay with it.
“Well, we became friends. She’s really cool and I’m living with her. I help her out. She’s, like, one of the most awesome people I know. You’d like her.”
The train stopped at Market and Embarcadero and they both disembarked.
“I live about five blocks from here,” Joey said. “You want to see it? We get to use some of the vehicles housed there, the ones our boss owns. A lot of it is mostly personal things owned by employees who�
�ve transferred, or they’re on assignment or something.”
“I’d love to, but I have to go now, I’m expected. Give me your cell number and I’ll call you. I’m going to get a cell phone soon.”
She’d enjoyed not being on call the way people were when they carried their phone twenty-four/seven. But Jock and Stef had been after her to have one for the job. Since they would pay for it, she could avoid having to show a phone company her false ID, just in case those papers she purchased making her Ember “Jones” weren’t as good as she thought they were.
Joey scrawled his cell number and e-mail address onto a piece of paper for her, and they hugged good-bye. As she walked to the hotel, Ember was amazed and happy. She’d looked for him a few times and had been sad when she couldn’t find him in his usual haunts around Union Square. She’d started to think she would never see him again, but now he was a friend. Thinking about the change in him sent her mind drifting to her family. She was also thinking of getting her own computer, rather than using the ones at the library or the job site. Wow, she was growing up.
*
Stef unlocked the project room and entered, seeking the guilty pleasure of Laurel’s ordered chaos. She’d come to think of this room as their room. She knew it was ridiculous, but she hadn’t heard from Laurel since meeting Rochelle and she was worried. Being here made her feel closer and she hoped that maybe she’d find that Laurel had been here. She sat in Laurel’s camp chair and looked around, listening to the silence.
A small cry from behind the closed bathroom door made Stef turn. She thought she was imagining things until she heard some rustling. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up and she crept to the door.
“Laurel? Are you in there?”
Silence.
“Laurel, it’s me Stef. Open the door, please?”
Taking a breath, she tried the handle and found it locked. She listened with her ear resting against the smooth oak surface and heard a muffled sound, a gasp perhaps. A sound of distress. Fumbling to locate the bathroom master key, one of a set she’d never used before, she tried several before finding one that turned smoothly.