Honeymoon Alone: A Novel

by Nicole Macaulay

  “It’s hard to explain,” she finally whispers. “I couldn’t say his name. It was bad enough to send the leads in. I mean – I led the cops to my own husband.”

  “But that’s just it,” I burst out. “You led them here. Why not just give them all the information so they could have focused on the right people?”

  “It was like – as long as I didn’t say his name, I wasn’t being disloyal. I wasn’t a bad wife, I was just an informant,” she explains, her chin quivering. She rolls her eyes at herself self-deprecatingly and laughs. “I know it’s stupid,” she admits. “I know that now. And I am so sorry that you got mixed up in it.”

  “That’s not entirely your fault,” I admit. “I wasn’t being completely truthful since checking in. My lie was harmless and stupid, though,” I quickly add. Because she looks momentarily excited at the idea of her new friend being a criminal in hiding like her. “I’m just a horrible liar and it seemed to tip off the cop here, I guess.”

  Oliver. I still can’t believe it. All the times he was there mysteriously. The times we’d spent getting to know each other. He’d just been chasing a lead. And that…is just so humiliating.

  I look over at Dan. He’s pacing around the room, mumbling to himself. “Is he really dangerous?” I ask Kiki, as the ball of fear in my stomach springs to life again at the sight of him. At the idea that I am, right now, trapped in here with him.

  “He isn’t really,” she says emphatically, her love for him shining in her eyes. “But if he’s desperate….” Her eyes look distant. “That’s how that other guy got killed. Dan got desperate. And he honestly didn’t mean to even hurt that guy. It just – oh, it all got out of control.”

  I bend forward, putting my face in my hands, eyes closed, and try to breathe. “It all got out of control,” I repeat calmly, even though I feel anything but calm. This situation is already so far out of control, it’s not even funny. And he really looks desperate right now.

  I have to do something. I am not going down to the lobby as a hostage. I just need to think.

  I have nothing. I am dressed in a flimsy vintage dress with high heel boots that are making my feet truly ache. Well, that’s something anyway, I guess. The boots. If need be, I can stab Dan with a heel. They are pointy.

  Okay, this is another reason I’d be a terrible criminal. My weapons suck.

  I breathe out and look down at my lap. My purse is lying there. No weapons in there. Just lipstick, some cash, my passport –

  And Cary’s phone.

  Oh, my God. I still have Cary’s phone!

  I unzip my purse quietly and peer inside. There it is. Dan is mumbling quietly in the corner to whoever he’s talking to. And I have no idea who to call. I don’t exactly have Oliver’s cell phone number. Or the number to the front desk downstairs. Is the number 911 here for emergencies?

  I wrack my brain until it hurts. There must be a number I can call. What numbers have I called since I’ve been here?

  Eyeing Dan closely, I subtly move the phone so it’s in my hand, secured so he can’t see it. I start scanning through the recent calls and see one number appear numerous times. Anne.

  I place the phone on the bed, and angle my body to block it from Dan’s view. I make it look like I am just chatting with Kiki. “What is your room number?”

  She looks nervously at her husband and then back at me. “711.”

  I push the little green phone button, which dials the selected number. Oh, please let her hear her phone ring and answer. As I wait, I lean into Kiki and force her to meet my gaze.

  “Pull yourself together, Kiki,” I whisper. “I need you.”

  Again she peers at her husband before looking at me again.

  “You were trying to do the right thing,” I say gently. “When you called the cops and left those leads.”

  She nods. “I was,” she says adamantly.

  “You still can do the right thing,” I tell her. “Just, please, play along with what I do.”

  She seems confused, but nods all the same.

  I lie down on the bed and pretend to cry. I’m instantly reminded of the first time I ever met Cary. It was a theater audition in the ninth grade. I was trying something new and he was the star. No one was ever as good as Cary. I was supposed to cry. Cary had to try so hard not to laugh at me and my bad acting. I can’t fake cry. I know I can’t. But my God, I’ll try right now.

  I cradle the phone next to my lips. I can hear a voice muffled against the comforter of the bed. Anne. Hopefully.

  Kiki pats my shoulder. “There, there,” she says. She looks up at her husband. “Well, what do you want me to do?” she asks him loudly. She risks a look down at me and then looks back at him, a look of determination on her face. “She’s upset,” she explains. “Wouldn’t you be? She got mixed up in our stupid mess.”

  “I can’t deal with you right now. You report me to the police, and you’re comforting the only woman who can save me,” he spits out in disgust. “I feel like I married a crazy person!”

  “You feel like you married a crazy person?” she shouts.

  While the two of them go back and forth arguing about Kiki’s loyalties, I turn my attention to the phone, hugging it to me. “Tell Oliver,” I whisper into the receiver. “Room 711. Room 7-1-1,” I repeat slowly. “Room 711. Tell Oliver.”

  Then I pretend to cry again, so that Dan won’t suspect me of anything.

  “I should never have let you in on it. I was doing just fine before I shared my life with you,” Dan is saying. I can hear his voice getting closer. I pull the phone closer to me and hide it under my chest but I don’t dare end the call. Just in case.

  “You insisted that you loved me and would accept me for who I am. For better or for worse,” he says in mock imitation of his wife. “You kept saying ‘for better or for worse.’”

  “I didn’t think you were a criminal,” she argues, crossing her arms, sounding a bit mad now herself. Good for her. Better late than never. “I thought ‘worse’ would be like bad moods and the flu.”

  “And you didn’t mind it all too much when you got money and jewelry from the whole deal, did you?” he challenges her. Still, his voice gets closer to us.

  “You know what?” she says, still rubbing my back. “I should have. I should have said something sooner. I should have turned you in the moment you told me. You’re a liar and a…a bad man,” she says. Her voice has a slight wobble, but the intensity behind her words never falters. “I thought I knew you,” she continues, wiping a tear angrily from her cheek. “You barely flinched when that man died,” she says. “You barely cared. I can’t believe how stupid I was,” she says. She seems so angry. At herself, really. “I shouldn’t have phoned in vague leads.”

  “Damn right you shouldn’t have.”

  “I should’ve been specific,” she throws back, like he’s stupid. “I should’ve given them our names and our room number. Then they could’ve just come to our room and taken you away, and Lucy wouldn’t be here right now, crying her eyes out.”

  She knows that I’m not really crying, right?

  “Tell Oliver,” I whisper again, toward the phone. I have no idea if my message is going through, but I have to keep trying. “Room 711—“

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I jump at the sound of Dan’s voice. He’s right over me. Shit. I stare up at him, my eyes wide as saucers. Because if he was scary before, it’s nothing compared to this moment. He truly looks murderous. And, well, he is a murderer. So…this is no good. I feel like I could throw up. Who knew crippling fear could make you nauseous?

  “Leave her alone,” Kiki says, getting to her feet.

  “Kiki, I swear to God!”

  “She didn’t do anything. Just leave her alone!” Her eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them, filled with tears and fear, but still, she takes a step toward him to place herself between her husband and me.

  Her friend.

  Well, okay, plan one is in the ba
g. Who knows if it was successful? I begin to unzip my boot because it honestly is the only other thing I can think of.

  I look at the boot that is now in my hands and shake my head in disbelief.

  In one swift move, Dan grabs Kiki by the shoulders and flings her – honestly flings her – out of his way. She falls hard to the ground and pulls herself into a ball, crying desperately, helplessly.

  He sets his eyes on me and before he can reach out to grab me, I grab my boot like a baseball bat and swing it as hard as I can at his face. I feel the impact of the boot connecting with his face. He falls back, toward the front door to the flat, holding his eye. That’s all the head start I need. I turn on my heel and wobble unevenly in one boot toward their balcony. I need to get out of this room, but I cannot run past him. The man is seriously pissed at me right now if his language is any indication. And in case I didn’t mention it already, he’s killed before.

  As the frigid winter air instantly freezes my skin – especially my right foot – I close the balcony doors behind me and run to the balcony and look down. There’s no fire escape. No easy access to another flat. There’s just a ledge. A ledge to my right. It’s pretty wide but it’s a ledge. A real live ledge. Seven stories high. I am just going to stand on the balcony and hope for the best. I unzip my other boot and step out of it. Because if I do need to resort to the worst, I’ll definitely need even footing. As my left foot tingles from the fresh wave of coldness hitting it, I shiver. It is freezing out here. I know that help must be on the way. Someone is going to bust into Flat 711 and take him away—

  I jump when I see the balcony door begin to move and instinctively run toward the ledge. Oh God. I lift one leg over and freeze, closing my eyes.

  This trip has been surreal in so many ways, right from the beginning. But…this is insane. Absolutely insane. I cannot climb onto the ledge. I can’t.

  But when I see Dan’s face as he stumbles outside, I do it. I lift the other leg over. Somehow in the middle of my ice-cold panic, I manage to steady myself on the ledge. I secure my hold on the building’s stucco fixtures and slowly let go of the balcony.

  And then I begin to move away from Dan.

  And away from safety.

  cannot believe it. As I stand on this ledge – yes, ledge – seven stories high, I think about that crazy psychic once again. If she had said that following fate’s signs could lead me down a path of mortal danger, I probably would’ve just stayed home. Because this is so not what I came out here to do. I bet her name is not even a good one like Zelda or Esmeralda or Endora. Or Raven. Her name is probably Colleen and she probably does kids’ birthday parties in addition to weddings.

  With the tiniest, most careful steps, I scoot away from the balcony. Finally, I stop. I can’t walk anymore. I’m far enough away from Dan. And my legs feel like Jell-O. They are so cold and are shaking so much. I slowly turn until I am no longer facing the building, but facing out. I close my eyes and breathe in. I can hear Dan yelling, but I won’t focus on him. I can’t. I just need to breathe. And stay calm.

  I plant my feet steadily into the concrete, lean firmly back against the building and slowly lower myself until I am sitting. As my legs reach out in front of me, my calves dangle over the ledge. I open my eyes and look out. They have different scenery than we do on this side of the building. Well, of course they do. It’s a different side of the building.

  From our balcony, you can see Kensington High Street. A city skyline greets me every morning when I wake up. This view seems to be more woodsy and dark, completely devoid of the energy oozing throughout the rest of the city.

  I hear a loud bang from the direction of the balcony and I startle. When I look over, my heart nearly rolls over in relief at the sight before me. It’s Oliver and the other cop. Oliver grabs Dan, and thrusts him angrily at the other guy, saying something to Dan that I cannot hear. In his voice, I hear anger and something else. It almost sounds like fear. The other cop takes Dan back into the flat, leaving Oliver out here. He looks around frantically for a moment and then looks back inside the flat. I suddenly realize what he’s looking for. Me.

  “I’m over here,” I croak, my voice weak from the cold.

  He stops and when he sees me, he rushes to the side of the balcony, his eyes wide.

  “Lucy,” he breathes. “Are you okay?” Even as he asks the simple question, he is already pulling one foot over the balcony. Then the other.

  “You don’t have to come out here,” I say. “I can get back on my own.”

  Except I can’t. Try as I may, my body doesn’t seem to be cooperating. I’m rooted to the spot. Or frozen to it at least.

  “Don’t move,” he warns, edging toward me carefully. When he’s close, he turns and lowers himself down slowly until he’s sitting beside me. “Are you okay?” he repeats. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him studying me. But I don’t look over at him. I can’t.

  I swallow and nod. “I’m okay,” I say at last. “I guess my call to Anne went through?”

  He puts a hand through his hair and releases a long, exasperated breath. “Yes,” he says. “I came up as fast as I….” He breathes out again. I can practically see the nerves coursing through him. “I am so sorry,” he finally says.

  “I can’t move,” I tell him, cutting off his apology.

  “What do you mean?” He peers at me and I can see a nervousness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

  “I think I am literally frozen. My boots are over there,” I explain, eyeing the balcony. “I can’t move. I mean it. I may actually turn into a statue,” I say all in a rush.

  “We don’t want that to happen,” Oliver says, some of the nervousness gone from his voice now. He shifts his body and begins removing his suit jacket. When it’s off, he holds it out towards me, gently placing it behind me, helping me get my arms in. The warmth from the jacket immediately takes effect. It doesn’t take away the cold. I breathe in Oliver’s scent and feel a slight amount of comfort. After a long moment, I look at him.

  “You’re a cop.”

  He nods, but doesn’t break eye contact. “I’ve been undercover here since about two weeks before you arrived. I received leads in my case and it seemed the notorious Honeymooners were heading here for the holidays.”

  “The leads were right.” I’m quiet for a moment, thinking about the article from the paper. “Except the leads said they were going to southern Italy and Spain.”

  He takes a deep breath, his nerves seeming to relax a little. “I fed a false lead to the media, so the Honeymooners wouldn’t know we were close.”

  I shudder as a breeze seems to penetrate my skin and freeze my bones.

  “And… does your family own this hotel?”

  Oliver shakes his head. “No. I think Geoff wanted to justify my behavior.”

  “It wasn’t a good strategy. Most owners don’t drill their guests.”

  I shoot him a hesitant smile – our familiar, old banter making me feel both happy and sad at the same time.

  His gaze bores into mine with a different kind of intensity. Now, he’s surveying me. “You aren’t on your honeymoon,” he says. “And you two were never—“

  I sigh and shiver at once. “I’m here on vacation,” I admit, feeling suddenly foolish for ever having lied about something so normal. My God, I took a vacation. Why couldn’t I have told him that right from the beginning? “Cary’s a friend.”

  “I don’t understand,” he says quietly. “Why—“

  “It was my sister’s reservation. It was spontaneous. And I never do anything spontaneous. I guess now we can see why that is,” I say, attempting to joke at this ridiculous situation. “It all happened so fast. And I was going to tell the truth, but the receptionist said they had a policy, that you had to be here on your honeymoon, that the reservations were non-transferable – and my friend Mary made me promise.”

  “Made you promise what?”

  “To go with it,” I say, feeling exasperated as the last
few weeks finally flood out into the open. “To be Marian. To check in and stick to that story. To have a little adventure for myself for once.” I close my eyes, feeling foolish. Mary was trying to be a good friend. But there was clearly a point where I should have come clean. And I didn’t.

  He nods slowly, resting his head against the building. As the truth hangs in the air, I want to cry. Everything had seemed so nice. Our time together. Our kiss. Our dance. It all seemed so promising. But none of it was real. We were both lying this entire time.

  “Lucy,” he starts.

  “I think I can get back inside now.” I pull my knees to my chest and plant my frozen feet into the concrete and begin standing. I cannot be here anymore. I can’t listen to anything he has to say because he’s just going to do that thing that I hate. He’ll let me down gently. Apologize for leading me on. Tell me it was part of some undercover magic he was trying so he could close this case and get on with his life. He gets to his feet quickly and immediately grasps my arm to help steady me.

  Once I’m standing, I nod to him and we begin making our way toward the balcony. Once he’s there, Oliver climbs back over to safety swiftly, turning his attention to me. He grips my arms and hugs me toward him, pulling me toward the balcony. In spite of the fact that I am still on a ledge seven stories high, I feel safe now. I manage to make my way back onto the enclosed balcony and let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. And then I bolt inside, desperate for warmth.

  Inside, that guy from downstairs is handcuffing Dan, who is looking at Kiki with a wounded and angry expression. She’s sitting on the bed, crying.

  “I am sorry for how this all went down,” the other cop says when he notices me. “And to ruin your New Year’s Eve,” he adds. “We do need you to come with us and answer some questions.”

  I nod and excuse myself. I need to change out of this dress and put on multiple layers. I need to grab my things, too. Because I am not heading back here.

  When I leave the police station, I’m heading home.