Lost December

by Richard Paul Evans

  Sean wanted to book the Churchill suite, the hotel’s most expensive room, which I vetoed. The junior suite with a casino view was already more than a thousand euros a night—still a bargain compared to our rooms in Cannes.

  Less than an hour after checking in, Sean paid me a visit. “Hey, can you spot Marshall and me five K?”

  “For?”

  “I’m going to play a little Chemin de Fer.”

  Candace was standing next to me, looking at Sean skeptically.

  He smiled. “Look, it’s a good deal for you,” he said. “If I lose, I pay you back. If I win, I’ll split my winnings with you. How do you beat that?” Then he added. “Same goes for Marshall.”

  “What about Lucy?” Candace asked.

  “She’s staying in the room. She’s sick again.”

  “We’ll take her to dinner,” Candace said.

  “I doubt she’ll be up for it. She’s been tossing her cookies for the last half hour.”

  “Why isn’t Marshall staying with her?” Candace asked.

  Sean grinned. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  I took out my wallet and brought out a wad of bills. “I’ve got four thousand,” I said.

  “Four will do. Thanks, amigo.” He started to turn but stopped. “Wait, I’m going to need a little extra. The casino’s got a dress code and I didn’t bring a jacket. Maybe I should just take your credit card. There’s an Armani store a block from the hotel.”

  “You with my credit card,” I said. “I may be crazy, but I’m not dumb.”

  He waved me off. “Never mind. I’m sure they’ll have a jacket closet.”

  “Look,” I said, “you’re keeping a record of all this money, right?”

  He smiled. “I thought you were.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Just kidding. Of course I am. We’ll be at the Casino de Monte Carlo if you decide to join us.”

  “Candace and I are staying in tonight.”

  “Good for you,” he said.

  He turned and walked out. I shut the door behind him.

  “You’ve got to stop doling out money for him,” Candace said.

  “I’m not doling it, I’m loaning it,” I said.

  “You sure?”

  I looked at her gravely. “He’s good for it, isn’t he?”

  “You wouldn’t know if he wasn’t, would you?”

  She had a point. “I guess we’ll find out,” I said.

  CHAPTER

  Eighteen

  I’ve heard it said that if you want to know someone,

  travel with them—you’ll either end up loving or leaving them.

  It might be true.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  We had only been in Monte Carlo for a week when Sean insisted that Paris was calling. As beautiful as Monte Carlo was, I went along with his plans. In part because I was tired of Sean asking for gambling money. But, more importantly, Paris seemed like the ideal place to propose to Candace. Candace and I had grown even closer over the past few weeks, and I was now more certain than ever that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

  Sean suggested we stay at the Four Seasons George V, located in one of the most fashionable quarters of Paris and within walking distance of the Arc de Triomphe, the Place de la Concorde and the Eiffel Tower. Candace gasped as we entered the hotel’s lobby, which was what I was hoping for. The hotel was decorated with bright tapestries, marble columns and fresh flowers and smelled of geraniums.

  “Luke, this is incredible,” she said.

  “Nothing’s too good for my girl,” I said.

  She leaned into me. “Except you,” she replied.

  Walking into our room elicited even more excitement from Candace. Our room was decorated with royal blue cloth-covered walls, crystal chandeliers and, like the lobby, fresh flowers.

  The room was about $2,500 a night. Looking back, I can see the change that had come over me. In my previous life I would never have considered spending more than a few hundred dollars a day for a hotel room, but the $4,000 suites in Cannes had corrupted my perspective. I actually considered the price of the rooms a bargain. At least I would have if I was paying for just one of them. I had booked two rooms next to each other. I was anxious about still putting Sean’s room on my bill. His tab was skyrocketing, and I still hadn’t seen any evidence of him fixing his credit card problem or paying me back.

  As usual, Sean had prepared our agenda. We ate dinner at Le Bristol, a fashionable restaurant that changes its décor with the seasons. It was there that I tasted white truffles for the first time—an aromatic fungus that sometimes costs more per ounce than gold. I could no more describe its taste than describe salt.

  The next few days Candace and I separated from the group and visited all the popular attractions that Americans come to Paris for. We took a river cruise on the Seine and spent nearly an entire day at both the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay.

  Our first Friday night in Paris, Sean insisted we visit a popular nightclub in the Champs-Élysées district called Les Bains Douches, one of the hottest spots in Paris. It ended up just being the three guys, since Candace was tired from the day’s walking and Lucy wasn’t feeling well again.

  “Les Bains Douches means ‘The Baths,’” Sean said on the cab ride to the club. “It was built on the site of a Turkish bath.”

  When we got to the club door, Sean said to me, “Give the man a fifty.”

  I looked at him. “What for?”

  “The bouncers are notorious for turning people away for no reason. If you’re not a model or Mick Jagger, you gotta pay to play.”

  I reluctantly passed the bouncer 50 euros, but we still had to wait nearly forty minutes to get in. That wasn’t the worst thing to happen. Not by a long shot. We ate dinner in the club’s Thai restaurant, but when the waitress brought us our check, I almost choked. She had put a $1,000 bottle of champagne on our bill.

  When I protested the charge, I was immediately surrounded by three bouncers, who strong-armed me to a back room and made me swipe my debit card for the entire amount. My father used to say, “The world is designed to take your money.” I was quickly learning how right he was, though some parts of the world are more adept at doing so.

  To dull my humiliation, I took to drinking with Marshall. I had no idea where Sean was. The last I’d seen of him he was walking out of the club with his arms around two Italian women.

  Around two in the morning, Marshall nudged me with his elbow. “Luke, check that out.” His eyes were fixed on an exotic-looking French woman in a revealing dress. She looked over at him and a seductive smile turned up her lips. He immediately stood. “Mon bel ange. That, my friend, is the only thing on earth that could convince me to learn French.”

  “What about Lucy,” I said.

  “She doesn’t speak French,” he said with a condescending smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll find a ride home.” He walked across the room to the woman.

  I wished I had stayed back with Candace. Actually, I was beginning to wish I had stayed in Arizona. I finished my drink and went back to the hotel.

  CHAPTER

  Nineteen

  Truth is patient. It can afford to be,

  for eventually it will have its way.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  When I arrived back at the Four Seasons, Lucy was asleep in our room with Candace. I turned on the entryway lights, and Lucy rubbed her eyes then sat up, slowly looking around. “Where’s Marshall?” she asked.

  “Still out,” I said.

  She looked at me with a pained expression. “Is he with another woman?”

  In spite of my desire to do otherwise, I nodded.

  Lucy stood up and went back to her own room. Candace just looked at me and frowned. “Come here, baby,” she said.

  Several hours later we woke to yelling coming from Lucy and Marshall’s room next door. Lucy’s voice was punctuated by sobs. I looked over at the clock. It was nearly 5 A.M.


  “Have you ever heard her that upset before?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Candace said. “It’s their cycle.”

  There was another loud scream followed by louder crying. Then I heard a door slam.

  “I think the chain just fell off their cycle,” I said.

  “Will you check on her?” Candace asked.

  “Sure.” I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and walked out into the hall. Lucy was lugging her suitcase to the elevator.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She turned around. Her eyes were puffy and red and she was trembling.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Anywhere he isn’t.”

  I walked toward her. “Want to talk?”

  She wiped her eyes then said, “Yes.”

  We went back to my room. Candace had put on a robe and she hugged Lucy as she came in. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “But you’ve been here before. Things will work out.”

  “No they won’t,” she said. “He told me he doesn’t love me. He said he hasn’t cared about me for more than a year. He’s just been using me.”

  I gently rubbed her back. “Marshall’s a jerk. The only person he cares about is himself. You’re better off without him.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said.

  “You will be,” I said. “Trust me. It may not seem like it now, but as soon as you’re free from him, you’ll be much better off.”

  She looked up, her eyes darting back and forth between us. “I’m pregnant.”

  For a moment Candace and I were both silent. Then Candace said, “Oh.”

  That’s why she’s been so sick, I thought.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Lucy said.

  “Does he know you’re pregnant?” Candace asked.

  “I told him tonight. That’s what started his yelling. He said I’d gotten pregnant to trap him.” Lucy continued to cry. “He said he doubted it was even his baby.” She put her head down. “That’s when he told me he didn’t love me.”

  I softly caressed her hand. “I’m really sorry. He’s an idiot.”

  “I’m the idiot,” she said. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  Candace made Lucy stay with us. I laid a blanket across the sofa for myself and Lucy climbed in bed with Candace, though I’m not sure either of the women slept.

  Lucy quietly got up a few hours later. She took a quick shower and then came out of the bathroom dressed. “I better go,” she said.

  “Why don’t you just stay with us for a few days?” Candace said.

  “No,” she said, her voice strained, “I can’t be around him.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Home. I’ll go home.”

  “How will you get back to the states?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. I was going to ask my aunt to send me some money.”

  I took out my wallet and pulled out ten 100-euro bills. “This will get you home.”

  She looked at me gratefully. “Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you for being so good to me. I wish I had what you and Candace have.”

  I walked her down to the lobby and helped her get a cab. When I got back to the room, Candace said, “Think she’ll be okay?”

  “For now,” I said.

  “I hate Marshall,” she said.

  “I know. How could anyone be so cold?”

  Later, in the afternoon, Candace, Sean and I were in the hotel’s restaurant eating lunch when Marshall walked in. He looked to be in good spirits. “Hey, people,” he said flippantly. “Whassup?”

  “Lucy went home,” I said.

  “Yeah, I figured she would.” He sat down at the table and lifted a menu. “So what’s good?”

  Candace and I looked at him incredulously. “You’re not bothered by this?” Candace asked.

  He didn’t even look up from the menu. “Why would I be? She’s not my problem.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Candace said.

  “Yeah, well she should have done a better job protecting herself.”

  “Stunning,” Candace said. “After all this time together, you just toss her like she’s trash.”

  I glanced over at Sean, who seemed more amused than disturbed by the conversation. He hadn’t returned to the hotel until 8 A.M., so he’d missed Lucy and Marshall’s fight.

  “It’s none of your business,” Marshall said. “She chose her path.”

  “You’re such a loser,” Candace said.

  Marshall pointed at her. “Shut your mouth.”

  “Don’t talk to her that way,” I said, leaning toward him threateningly. He cowered back. “You’re a jerk, Marshall. You always have been. You dress up your selfishness like it’s some deep, philosophical statement, but the truth is, you’re just a cheater and a user. It’s time for you to leave.”

  He laughed, then turned to Sean. “Can you believe this guy?” He looked back at me. “It’s a free country, man.”

  “Free? No, it’s two thousand euros a day.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, dude.”

  “Well, I’m not paying your way anymore,” I said.

  He grimaced. “What are you talking about? You’re not paying my way. Sean is.”

  “Oh, really?” I turned to Sean. “Is that true?”

  “I’m going to pay you back,” Sean said.

  I shook my head. “I’ll make it easy on both of you. I’m not giving Sean another euro until you’re gone.”

  “Wow,” Sean said, leaning back from the table. “That’s harsh.”

  Marshall looked at Sean for backup. Sean just shrugged. “Sorry, man,” he said, “Out of my hands.”

  Marshall’s face turned red. “You’re calling me a cheater? Did you ever tell Candace about your one-night stand with the UPenn undergrad?”

  Candace blanched. She looked at me with a shocked expression.

  Marshall grinned. “Didn’t think so.”

  “Is it true?” Candace asked.

  I had no idea what to say. When I didn’t answer, she stood up and stormed off from the table. I stood and watched her go, debating whether to run after her or not.

  “Glass houses and stones,” Marshall said. He looked back at Sean. “I need some money to get home.”

  “I’m broke,” Sean said.

  Marshall turned to me. “I need some money.”

  I looked at him, my face red with anger. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Not my problem,” I said.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty

  How can so few seconds of pleasure

  bring so many days of agony?

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  Candace wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the day, and I ended up spending the night in Sean’s room. The next morning she opened the door when I knocked. Her eyes were so swollen they were almost closed. She looked like she had cried all night.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “I want to tell you how sorry I am. It was so stupid. I had been drinking … It was wrong. I love you, Candace. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “How many times did you see her?”

  “Once. Just the one time. I was so drunk, I don’t even know her name.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did.”

  I exhaled slowly. “I was going to tell you. I felt so guilty. But Sean talked me out of it. He said I was being selfish by trying to assuage my guilt by breaking your heart.”

  She looked at me incredulously. “And you listened to him?”

  I shook my head. “I know, it’s stupid. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m begging you. Please, give me another chance. It will never happen again. I promise.”

  “And why should I believe you now?”

  “Because you know I love you.” I looked at her hopefully. “And because
you love me.”

  Her eyes began to well up with tears.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  She wiped her eyes. “I know.” She looked at me. “No more secrets.”

  “No more secrets,” I said.

  “If you ever do it again, I won’t give you another chance.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  She let me back in the room. So much for romantic Paris.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-One

  We haven’t seen Sean for days.

  Neither of us has suggested sending out a search party.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  I was through with France. We’d lost Lucy and Marshall, and, frankly, with Sean now owing me more than $50,000 I wouldn’t have been too upset to lose him too. Worst of all, I had almost lost Candace. I had planned to propose to her in Paris, and now I was just lucky that she hadn’t flown home. I hoped that Italy would bring a different fate.

  The next morning the three of us flew from Paris to Rome. Sean was hungover from a final night of partying and Candace was quiet most of the way.

  Sean suggested we stay at the Residenza Napoleone III, which is exactly what it sounds like—the hotel had been the residence of Emperor Napoleon III during the 1830s. Considering the price of the place, I probably would have found someplace else if it wasn’t for what Candace and I had just gone through. I wanted her to be someplace special.

  We didn’t see much of Sean the next week. I don’t know where he went, but we didn’t miss him. We needed the time alone to set things right. We took in the usual sights: the Colosseum and the Forum, the Spanish Steps, and the Trevi Fountain. We spent a day at Vatican City where we listened to a choir in St. Peter’s Basilica and followed a guide through the Sistine Chapel. By our third day, things between us felt good again.

  We dined in three piazzas: Piazza Navona with its Bernini fountains, Piazza del Popolo with its Egyptian obelisk, and Piazza di Spagna with its marble boat churning with fresh water. By the end of our first week in Italy, we decided we’d seen enough of Rome and made plans to leave the next day by train. We planned to go to Florence, Bologna, and then Venice. We still hadn’t seen Sean and frankly I was ready to just leave him.