For a moment I consider calling Brandon and confronting him. I know it’s Diamond’s shoe. Unless there is yet another woman in my house. But I don’t want to get into a big fight while I’m so far away, and Justin is sitting here staring at me.
He looks like he’s getting ready to dig deeper into my suspicions, but I stand up and cut him off.
“Let’s hit the hot tub.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Justin
“We can’t go in there!”
Claire’s eyes are wild, and she almost runs into me as she stops me from approaching the hot tub area, which is near her suite.
“Why not?” I have my towel and I changed into my swim trunks while Claire went back to her room to get ready. I am trying to get a look at her in her bikini, but she is clutching her towel and blurting out the latest emergency.
She lowers her voice and leans closer, which is distracting to say the least. “There are lesbians in there.”
“Okay, so why can’t we go in there? I’m sure they’re not having sex in the…no…” I turn my head away from Claire to see if I can see the action going on beyond the cluster of palm trees.
“I don’t know exactly what they’re doing, but let’s just say I don’t think we would be comfortable sitting a few feet away from them while they’re doing it.”
“Speak for yourself.” I smile and she gives me the stereotypical unamused woman glare. “Okay, okay. But are you sure it’s two women? It’s dark and I’m sure you got flustered and didn’t openly stare at them. You know how you are with…things like this?”
She puts her hands on her hips and drops her towel. I knew if I pissed her off a little I’d finally get the view I was looking for, which is much more interesting to me than any rooftop bar view. Her tiny bikini reveals her very tight and smooth stomach, and her perky…
“Things like what?” She pokes my chest with her fingernail. Good thing she has trimmed her talons since becoming a mother. “Are you, Mr. Scott, insinuating that I am uncomfortable with sex?”
When I don’t respond right away, she pokes me more forcefully and says, “I may not be as experienced as your stable of hot chicks, however I do know which naked gender I am viewing, and I assure you those two people have more boobs than the average heterosexual couple.” She raises her eyebrows.
I put up my hands in self-defense, although I wouldn’t mind getting her madder so she keeps touching me. “Okay, I surrender to your judgment. No matter who is getting hot and heavy in the hot tub, I guess it would be impolite to sit next to them and stare. Would you rather go in the pool? I tried it on the way over, but it’s a little cold.”
She pouts and sighs. “I know. Let’s use the one in my room. And before you get any ideas, we are already in swimsuits, so it’s perfectly innocent.”
She gives me a defiant look that tells me she’s feeling slightly rebellious, but not enough to do anything stupid. I wonder if she’s trying to get back at Brandon over the stiletto in the photo. Maybe she talked to him when she went back to her room to change, and that got her even more fired up.
But I can handle it. I have long since accepted that I have to admire Claire from afar. This is just a business trip, but I am happy to be here with Claire.
I do still feel like we never got a real chance. She was quick to dismiss me as too young, yet the maturity of her husband isn’t panning out. And that guy is only a few years older than me anyway. This girl’s logic makes no sense.
“Hey, if you’re okay with that, I’m fine. You know you can trust me. Let’s try to be quiet and stealthy as we sneak past the hot tub lovers.”
We slowly meander towards Claire’s room and I try to sneak a glance, but she drags me the last few steps.
This is really too much. I am starting to rethink tonight’s plan. Naked hot tub lesbians. A bikini clad woman in her room. And not just any woman. Claire. This is bullshit. I can have any woman I want. Well, not really…
Claire quickly opens the door to her room and we start laughing as she fumbles for the light. In true Claire fashion, within seconds, the light is on…as in on the floor, with Claire sprawled out on the carpet. Her top has shifted and she reacts quickly, tucking everything back in before I can see any more.
I shake my head and try to conjure up very non-sexual thoughts, like my grandmother knitting. Yep, that does it.
“What are you doing on the floor?” I reach down to lift her up. She extends her hand, but can’t stop giggling.
“That was funny. I had no idea where the light was, and I was afraid we would trip and fall if I didn’t find it quickly.”
She is on her feet but doubled over laughing, grabbing her towel and the tote bag she dropped. She gathers up her belongings and holds a bottle of pills. “My head is killing me. I should take some Excedrin.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
Grateful for a job and a diversion, I walk over to the sink and pour her water from the tap. I dump that out and notice the mini bar. Hell, if the company is paying, my little Claire should have proper water. I mean, Claire. I need to keep reminding myself that this isn’t a vacation and we are not here together.
I know, I’ll ask her about her agenda for the conference tomorrow. And sit as far away from her as I can in what amounts to a very big bathtub, not the size of the much larger outdoor hot tub.
I walk back to the whirlpool tub, and see that Claire is adjusting the taps and reading the directions for the jets. Knowing her mechanical ability, I intervene. We get the jets and water all set, and we both sink into the tub.
Now that we’re settled, everything feels more peaceful. It’s been a long day. I’ll just stay here awhile until she can take her medicine and she feels better. Excedrin shouldn’t take any more than twenty minutes to kick in. She’ll be ready for sleep and maybe I can still catch some of the show out in the courtyard before I turn in.
I lean back into the hot water and let the jets hit my back. I wish I could find a place to work out while we’re here. Maybe I’ll go for a run while all the hangover people are sleeping. I’ll have the whole street to myself.
“So, what’s on your first day conference agenda?”
I watch Claire pull her shiny blond hair into a pony tail. I can’t believe she thinks she looks old. Yes, she looks older than me but not more than ten years. And even my last girlfriend, Jenna, was getting lines around her mouth and eyes. Of course those could have been caused by all the bitchiness and frowning.
Claire leans back against the tub and reaches for her Excedrin, popping open the top and taking two out. Two is probably a fine number to take. She had a little wine at dinner. I drank most it.
I guess I keep thinking her senses must be dulled, or she wouldn’t have suggested this current arrangement. She’s a grown-up, but unfortunately, I always feel obligated to keep an eye on her.
Claire downs the pills with a few big gulps of water, and rubs her temples. “It has been a long day. I should be able to sleep tonight. I brought my sleeping pills, but I doubt I’ll need them.”
She closes her eyes for a second, and they suddenly pop open. Brown eyes and blond hair are such a striking combination.
“So, tomorrow. I have to set up the booth but there are people to help with that, and all of the stuff was shipped. Then I have a panel on the relationship between agents and editors. I definitely need to attend that one because that’s our biggest difficulty when it comes to finding new authors.”
She pauses and closes her eyes again. This water is making me sleepy, too. We don’t have the lights out, but they’re low. I probably should get going soon.
“And then I have a lunch with the agents. So a good networking opportunity. And then in the afternoon I have some individual meetings that Gina set up with agents who want to pitch their client’s stuff to me. How about you?”
I go on to explain my plans, which mostly involve meeting with the software suppliers and running through their demos.
“I’ll have more flex time
than you, so let me know if you need help with the booth or anything. I’m an early riser. I’ll probably be up for a run.”
“Yeah, I won’t be doing that. I’m lucky if I can get out of here on time to grab a pastry or an apple, before I have to head to the conference.” Claire’s eyes are really getting droopy.
I stand up and grab the nearby towel. I try to wring my bathing suit out a bit while standing in the tub, so I don’t drip all over her floor. I could slip my suit off under the towel and walk back to my room. I have barely seen a living soul since we got here, but I don’t want to freak Claire out. That’s disrespectful. I wouldn’t want some guy taking his clothes off in a bedroom with my wife.
I climb out of the tub and say, “I’m beat. Listen, if you want me to bring you back something for breakfast after my run, just text me. Linda said the breakfast is served out back by the pool area, and I can easily grab something and drop it by.”
I am finishing drying off on the tiled area, with my back to Claire. She’s awfully quiet all of a sudden. If she fell asleep I’ll have to coax her out of the tub and make sure she’s alright.
“Claire, you should get out of the tub. You don’t want to fall asleep…”
Holy shit, her body is slipping and her head is going under water. Son of a bitch! I can’t watch her all the time. She has to be able to bathe by herself. Jesus!
I run over to pull her up by her shoulders, and she is not just dozing. She is out cold. What the hell? She’s not drunk. Excedrin don’t make you fall asleep. Does she have some kind of sleeping disorder I don’t know about? Fuck!
I pull her out of the tub and wrap her up in towels. She’s like a rag doll in my arms. I check to see if she’s breathing, and she is, but she’s really out.
I lay her down on the bed and look around the room, while I try to decide what the hell to do. I shake her lightly. “Claire. Claire!” Nothing. Wait, she murmured something. Maybe she really is that tired. She is a mother. Don’t they say mothers with young babies are sleep deprived? Maybe she’s catching up.
I still have an uneasy feeling. Before I leave her like this, I need to get her out of this wet bathing suit and…how do I get myself involved in this bullshit?
I walk back over to the tub and turn off the jets. As I reach down to let the water out of the tub, I spot the bottle of pills. I pick them up and immediately see these are not Excedrin. This looks like a prescription. Maybe she takes headache pills that her doctor gives her, but she calls them Excedrin. I hold the bottle up to the low lamp light. Goddammit. Not Excedrin. Ambien.
These are the worst fucking sleeping pills. And she took TWO! Clearly she is only supposed to take one. And I’m sure she isn’t supposed to drink with them. This is way out of my league. I’m going to have to call 911 or poison control. Or maybe I should just take her to the hospital. But I don’t even know where that is, and we don’t even have a car here, since everything is within a few block radius of the inn.
I don’t even have my computer in this room to look up the side effects of an Ambien overdose.
As much as I would rather chop off my left nut right now…okay, not really. But as much as I do NOT want to do this, I’m calling Brandon. I’ll figure out my story as I’m dialing. He doesn’t have to know we were in the tub together. I can say I was bringing her back something from the store. She forgot pantyhose. No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t wear pantyhose and I wouldn’t know how to buy them anyway.
I run my fingers through my hair. It’s freezing cold in here, too. I’m still wet and I have goose bumps like a little girl. Maybe two pills is still okay. It’s not like she took a bunch. Maybe she’ll just sleep longer.
I try to dry Claire’s body more vigorously, now that I know she is not waking up any time soon. I need to remove her wet bathing suit.
I undressed her that night after the launch party a few years ago, when she was passed out drunk and I brought her back to my place. But of course that was before she was married or even attached. And I didn’t really undress her. I just helped her a little. She was able to do things, she just didn’t remember, and it was funny to see her reaction when she couldn’t remember how she changed into my t-shirt, when she woke up in the morning in my apartment.
Before I grab her phone off the night table, I cover her with the blanket and reach under to remove her bikini bottom. I try to think again about my grandmother knitting. Or the fact that the woman I am wishing I could bang may be minutes from death if I don’t do something. My mother would be disgusted with me.
I shake some sense into my head as I untie her bikini top and slip it over her head. There, all wrapped up. I look up and offer a little prayer. ‘Please don’t let her die. And you see, I didn’t even look. Okay, I did a little but not really.’
I’m quickly losing it and then I realize that I don’t have Brandon’s number and Claire’s phone is locked. Who can I call? I scroll through my phone and find Gina’s number.
“Gina, it’s Justin.”
I explain the whole crisis, leaving out the impure thoughts and undressing, and ask for Brandon’s number.
“Oh my God, that girl does stupid things. Why were you in her room? Never mind, I don’t even want to know. That husband of hers is pissing me off lately anyway, but you’re right. You need to call him. She is his wife. Here’s the number.”
She rattles off the digits and I jot it down on the hotel stationary with Claire’s eyeliner, which happens to be laying on the vanity.
“Thanks. Do you know anything about Ambien?”
“I know it’s pretty powerful stuff and people do some crazy things when they’re on it. Don’t be surprised if she gets up and starts walking out into the street. People have been known to drive, shop on the Internet. You name it. All while having no recollection of any of their actions later. It’s dangerous stuff. But I don’t think two would be considered an overdose. Hold on, let me look it up.”
She fumbles around in the background and starts reading me the information from WebMD. “She will be groggy as hell tomorrow, but it looks like she would have to take a very large dose to hurt herself. How much did she drink? Oh, and it says here they only give women five mg now, but the full dose used to be ten. Check the prescription bottle.”
I verify that the pills are only five mg, which is a relief, but Claire is still a very small woman and she did have some alcohol. We continue to discuss the patient and decide that she is probably going to be fine, but I would still feel better calling her doctor.
“Maybe Brandon can give me her doctor’s emergency number.”
I thank Gina and she wishes me luck. If I had any of that I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
CHAPTER NINE
Justin
I fumble with my phone as I dial Brandon’s number. It’s only a little after ten so he should be up. I hope he isn’t one of those people who won’t answer the phone if it’s a number they don’t…
“Hello.”
I breathe deeply and launch into this fucking fiasco. “Hey, Brandon. It’s Justin Scott. From Bella Donna.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. Is something wrong with Claire?”
I can already hear the venom in his voice, tinged with fear.
“Yes, well, I don’t know. I think she’s okay, but we have a situation. She took some Excedrin for her headache, and it turns out they weren’t Excedrin.”
“Did you give her something? She doesn’t have any drugs. Where is she? I want to talk to her.”
I glance over at Claire, who is stirring again, but obviously she isn’t coherent enough to talk to her husband. “She’s sleeping. Well, passed out really. She took Ambien. You know, the sleep drug?”
“Claire doesn’t take sleeping pills. How many did she take? You need to get her to the hospital. I’m calling the police.”
“Whoa, man, you’re losing it. I know this is upsetting to be so far away and hear all of this, but I felt like calling you was the right thing to do. J
ust in case something bad did happen. She does take Ambien, though. The bottle has her name on it. She took two, which is one more than she is supposed to. I called Gina—”
“Gina’s a doctor now?”
“If you would let me finish, you’ll understand.” I grit my teeth, but I know if I were in his shoes I would be pissed, too.
“I called Gina to get your number because Claire’s phone is locked and I couldn’t find your number, or more importantly, her doctor’s number. If you can give me that I will call it. I’m sure they have an after-hours emergency line. We don’t even have a car here and I am not calling an ambulance. She’s just sleeping. Her breathing seems fine—”
“So, now you’re a doctor? How do you know she only took two? And where are you?”
I sigh and clench my fists. This is the hard part, and I need to blow through it so he will give me the information, and I can end this call. Unfortunately, he is so blinded by jealous rage that he isn’t realizing that this long conversation is just wasting time.
“We’re in Claire’s room. I saw her take the two pills. I am not answering any more questions because I don’t have time. Nothing is going on here except me trying to get medical attention for your crazy wife, who is depressed and can’t fucking sleep at night. And why do you think that is? It’s clearly not my fault!”
“Oh, so now you’re saying it’s MY fault she can’t sleep. What has she been telling you? How convenient that you’re there to comfort her when she’s mad at her asshole husband in the fucking honeymoon suite while I’m home taking care of this house and—”
“Really? You have a nanny, and don’t play the self-righteous bullshit act with me. I saw the stiletto laying on the floor next to your son in the picture you sent Claire. You need to be a little more careful when you’re screwing around.”
Finally, a moment of silence on the other end. “You know, I don’t owe you any explanation. Let me see if I can find that number.”
I hear some rooting around and he drops the phone. I can almost hear him sweating.
The Juggling Act Page 8
