His Champagne

by Dori Lavelle

  “You will do as I say, Eva Marie. That’s all I have to say about this. Get dressed. You will apologize to those nice people and then you will pray for God to bring Adrian back. The wedding will happen.”

  “I don’t want him back, dad.” I slide my legs out of bed and straighten the sheets.

  He might think I’m getting ready to follow him to his church, but I have other plans of my own. When he doesn’t speak for a long time, I look up to find him holding on to the door handle as if he’s about to pass out from the fury distorting his features. “You will marry that boy if I have anything to do with it.”

  I cross my arms. “Why? Because you’re scared the Saylors will turn their backs on you and the church, and you’ll no longer get their huge donations?”

  He doesn’t take my comment well. One minute he’s standing at the door, fuming, and the next, he’s in front of me and my cheek is smarting from his palm.

  His boiling eyes tell me I’m right. Adrian’s parents are successful business people with hotels and restaurants all over the US. They happen to be one of the richest families in town. The fact that they are members of Trinity Baptist Church is a boost to my father’s confidence and ego. Not to mention that their presence also attracts more affluent members to the church.

  “Don’t do that again.” I grind the words between my teeth.

  He backs off, eyes boiling. “What happened to you? I don’t even recognize you as my daughter anymore.”

  I sink onto the bed. My fingers flutter over the cheek he assaulted. “I guess I woke up. Being left at the altar does that to you. It made me realize that this is not what I want after all.”

  I drop my hand and pull my gaze from my dad’s crestfallen face. “I meant it yesterday when I said the party would be a farewell for me too. I’m done with this town.” I stand up to start packing. “Find someone else to be your secretary. I quit.”

  My father leans against the wall. “Don’t be a fool. Where will you go? The world out there is a dangerous place.”

  “So you keep preaching.” I grab the only suitcase I have from the top of my closet. “I’d like to find that out for myself.”

  His response is a laugh so loud it causes his shoulders to quake. For a moment, my confidence falters, but only for the moment. Then I start to yank clothes from their hangers, the pain that warms my cheek giving me courage.

  “You are so naïve, sweetheart. You really think you can make it on your own? You’ve never lived anywhere but this house, this town. Whose money do you plan on spending anyway?”

  “Not yours. You don’t have to worry. The advantage of staying under your roof allowed me to put a little money aside. If I need more, I’ll sell the wedding dress and engagement ring.”

  “Is that so? Where will you go, huh?” The venom in his voice makes my stomach tighten. Sometimes I wonder what his congregation would do if they knew how much anger their leader carries in his heart, that the man they see on the pulpit is very different from the man I get to see behind closed doors?

  I toss a navy blue long-sleeve blouse into my suitcase. “I’ve always wanted to see Vegas.” If I had my way, I’d leave the country altogether. Adrian had wanted to take me to Italy for our honeymoon, so a few months ago, I applied for my passport.

  “Are you out of your mind? That city is crawling with sinners?” His fists clench and unclench at his sides. “You’ll end up in Hell.”

  “Only God can make that decision. I’m twenty-five. It’s about time I live my life, my way. And there’s nothing you can do.”

  “What will I . . . what will I tell everyone?” Now that he knows I’m serious, I detect a thread of panic in his voice.

  “Tell them what you want, dad. The truth, for example, would work. I really don’t care. Whether I leave or stay, people will talk. I’m done being your good girl.”

  4

  Eva

  The Vegas Drive-In Motel room is cheap and tiny but it’s clean, except for the mold-ridden bathroom wall. But it’s my space for now. For the first time in my life I’m staying on my own.

  My father was controlling to the point he refused to let me go to college outside City Lake as he wanted to have me under his watchful gaze. I ended up being pushed into working at his side in the church. I’m still shaken that I managed to break out after years of being inside his prison.

  But I’m still human, a person of habit. I spent the past two weeks in the motel, nursing my wounds and building up my courage. I’ve woken up sometimes asking myself if I made the right decision to leave behind what’s safe in search of the unknown. I’ve been so brainwashed by my father that it doesn’t come easy to me to be my own person.

  With a deep sigh, I close my laptop and fall back onto the flat pillows. Branching out on my own has its challenges, especially since I can’t find a place to stay or a job.

  I’ve seen four apartments so far and all were too expensive for my meager budget. I pounded the streets in search of a job, my lack of qualifications and experience beyond working for the church blocked me from getting the kinds of jobs I want. I’d come in the hope of landing a job working as a hotel receptionist or something similar. No one seems to want me, though. It’s almost as if my father’s disapproval is a curse following me around like a stink.

  My heart jolts at the sound of the phone ringing. The bedsprings squeak when I shift to reach for it on the nightstand. If it’s my father, I’ll not answer. I promised myself I won’t speak to him until I’m settled. I can’t let him guilt trip me into going back there. No one else has called me from City Lake, not even Phoebe who I considered to be my best friend. The feeling of being shunned sometimes makes it hard for me to breathe.

  Even if I wanted to go back now, how could I return to a town that treats people that way? How could I go back to a life that I would probably have to spend with people whispering behind my back?

  No way. I owe myself this chance. I need to prove to my father and everyone else, including myself, that I’m capable of standing on my own two feet.

  I’m not sure if I’ll stay in Vegas for the long haul. For a woman who has spent her entire life in a small town, as thrilling as Vegas is, it’s also a little too fast and loud for me. I don’t doubt that later down the road, the excitement will diminish. But even then, I won’t return to City Lake. I’ll find another place to call home.

  The number on the small screen is unfamiliar. I push the green button anyway.

  “Hello.” I bite my lower lip and lay a hand on my chest as I wait for a response. My chest vibrates from the hard beating of my heart.

  “Am I speaking to Eva Marone?” The voice on the other end sounds distant.

  “Yes. I’m her.”

  “I’m calling from the Sage Hotel. You were interviewed for a receptionist job, two days ago.”

  “Yes, sir.” I swallow hard.

  A quiet moment passes between me and the caller. Is he taken aback by my chronic politeness, a product of my father’s upbringing?

  “Miss Marone, I’m afraid we can’t offer you the job. We found someone more qualified for a job in a hotel setting.”

  “I understand. Thank you for letting me know.” Disappointment burns my throat.

  I hang up the phone and stare at the cracked white ceiling for a long time. I refuse to think defeating thoughts even if yet another rejection presses hard on my chest.

  After a breakfast of the egg and ham sandwich I bought at a deli across the road, I stand in the shower under the lukewarm water, my hair hanging in long, wet ropes around my head, my tears mixing with the water.

  Even though being left at the altar turned out to be a good thing for me, it doesn’t erase the pain and humiliation that collided with my heart.

  When I return to the room after my shower crying session, I find a missed call on my phone. I call the number back. It’s Brynne, a woman of about my age who I met last week about renting a room. I knew the rent was a little too high for me, but the apartment in the North
Oasis Apartment complex had sounded attractive on Craigslist. I couldn’t resist going to see it just for fun.

  It was everything I had imagined and it felt like home. It even has an outdoor swimming pool. But I had to be honest with Brynne. The rent was too high for me, especially since I’m unemployed. She understood, and we parted ways, never expecting to see each other again.

  “Are you still interested?” Brynne asks now. I never expected to speak to her again. “I liked you better than the others. Are you in?” She has a low, silvery voice.

  “I . . . well—”

  “If you are, the room is yours.” Her voice is broken by the sounds of honking cars outside my window, but her message reaches me just the same.

  “I can’t afford the rent.”

  “Do you have enough for two months’ rent?”

  “I-I guess so,” I say without thinking. “But—”

  “I get it. You don’t have a job.”

  “Yes. I haven’t found anything yet.”

  “Maybe I can help with that. I work as a cocktail waitress at a fancy bar called The Little Black Dress. My apartment is only a fifteen-minute drive north of the Las Vegas strip where the LBD is located. It’s on the first floor of The Millennium Hotel.”

  “A bar?” My voice is a strangled whisper.

  “Yes. Maximo Donatello is a jerk, but it’s a fun place to work, and the pay isn’t too bad. I could talk to him if you like.”

  “I don’t have experience working in a bar.” And my father would have a fit if he heard I was serving people alcohol for a living.

  “Not a problem. I could show you a thing or two. And experience isn’t that important to Maximo. All you have to say is yes and I’ll work my magic.”

  “Okay.” The word comes out before my mind can form it. “Yes. I’d love that. Thank you so much, Brynne.”

  After the call, I jump on my bed squealing with both excitement and fear. I’ll be living in a fancy apartment and working as a cocktail waitress in a bar. It’s an experience I can’t resist.

  “Shut up,” someone shouts through the thin walls and I laugh out loud.

  Before the thrill wears off, I call my father to tell him the news. As I had expected, we have a heated argument that ends with him dropping the phone, after warning me that God’s fury will land on me.

  I’m numb from his hate-infused words, but his threats were not strong enough to knock me off the path toward my freedom.

  5

  Neal

  “Mr. LaClaire, welcome back to The Millennium.” A lanky man with raven hair slicked back with too much gel grins at me. His name is Dane and he’s been working at the hotel for the past four years.

  “Thank you. Good to be here. Is my suite ready?”

  “It sure is, sir. You can go right up. Will you need assistance with your bag?” Dane hands me my keycard and I wave away the offer and stride through the marble lobby to the elevators.

  As soon as the doors shut me inside, I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  I plan on locking myself away inside my suite, alone with the memories of my wife, until my demons back off.

  I’m a man on a mission as I charge down the hallway on the last floor and enter through the door of the honeymoon suite.

  My heart slams hard into my chest when I walk into the space that used to feel like coming home. But not anymore.

  “What the fuck!” I pace around the suite in search of the memories that belong to me, memories I left behind when I visited last. They renovated the damn place and took them all away.

  The royal blue carpet that had once reminded me of Sonia’s eyes is gone, along with the matching drapes. The place is now awash with a pale yellow color scheme.

  Even the furniture is different. The bed inside the main bedroom now has a white leather upholstered headboard instead of the wooden one I was accustomed to. The vase of white orchids that used to be on the desk by the window is gone. In its place is a white abstract marble sculpture.

  Observing everything around me, I feel like I’m stuck inside one of the spot the difference games my brothers and I played as kids. But the more differences I find, the more my chest tightens with fury.

  I collapse onto the bed and press the heel of my palm hard against my forehead, eyes squeezed shut.

  My breath coming in hot gasps, I dig my phone from my pocket and call Seth Walburn, the hotel manager. We’ve known each other long enough for me to have him on speed dial.

  “Seth, I’m inside my suite. What the fuck happened to it?”

  “You mean why have we renovated it?”

  “What happened to our deal? What happened to not changing a thing?”

  “Come on, man. That room has been the same for years.” For a boulder of a man, Seth has a voice that should have belonged to a woman. “Things were falling apart. They needed to be fixed and replaced.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” My voice is a rumble inside my throat. “I paid you good money to respect my wish.”

  “I know you did. And I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

  I rise and stomp around the room. “Damn right, you should have. I would have paid you more to keep my suite the same.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken your money again. You’re not the only guest that stays in that suite. You come over once a year, for God’s sakes. I’m sorry, but we have other guests we need to meet the needs of. That suite was not a shrine.”

  My lips move rapidly as I search my mind for the right thing to say. “This is not what I came here for.”

  This is the suite where I used to spend every Valentine’s Day with Sonia, where I had seen her at her happiest. Now they changed everything. They took away the memories of my wife opening the blinds, memories of her back on the carpet as I made love to her. They stole her from me.

  “Neal, are you still there?”

  I drop onto the bed again. “Yeah.”

  “I’m really sorry, man. I know how much that suite meant to you, but you have to understand that I’m running a hotel here, not a memorial.”

  “I understand.” I thread a hand through my hair. I do understand. “Sorry for being an ass. You’re right. You did enough for me. I appreciate it.” Much as I hate the new changes, it is unfair of him to keep the hotel room frozen in time as I am. If only it didn’t hurt so damn much.

  “I hope you’ll still be visiting us after this.”

  I gaze through the balcony doors at the city stretching out below. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Well, since you’re here, before you return to Boston let’s make time to meet for lunch. It’s been a while.”

  “Sure. I’ll be here for a week.” I wish I could grab my bag right now and return home but I need time, a few days to say goodbye to something that had been a part of my life for so long. I’ll never return to this hotel again. It’s too painful to find emptiness here.

  After we decide on a day to meet for lunch, Seth apologizes again and we hang up.

  With nothing to hold on to, my demons return to haunt me at full force and the pain inside my heart spreads to the rest of my body.

  Unable to handle the torture any longer, I find myself kneeling in front of the minibar, the cool air touching my burning skin.

  Aside from an occasional beer, wine or champagne, I’m not much of a drinker. I’m shocked when my hand reaches for a miniature bottle of single malt Scotch whiskey and my tongue welcomes the unfamiliar bitter taste. I reach for the second.

  When no drop is left in the bottle, it hits me why my brother, Lance, had used alcohol as a weapon to attack his own demons with.

  But, of course, I won’t get hooked like he had been. Tonight will be the only time I’ll search for comfort at the bottom of a bottle. If my years in military training have taught me anything, it’s self-control. But I’ll just have one more bottle to forget for a bit.

  6

  Eva

  My stomach is liquid with nerves as I step out of the shower. To
day is the day. Whether I get the job or not, my interview at The Little Black Dress will create a shift in my life. My heart may not know it yet, but my body does. I feel the anticipation in every fiber of my being.

  After a week of not much sleep and a few tears, I don’t feel pretty on the outside, but I have to fake it. Thank God for makeup. Or maybe I have no right to refer to God in any way, not now that I’m turning my back on everything my father taught me, not now that he’s convinced God has turned his back on me.

  I pick up a makeup brush and meet my blue eyes in the mirror. I’ve never been a makeup person thanks to my father teaching that only prostitutes wear makeup and it’s a sin to manipulate the natural beauty God gave women. Even worse, according to him, makeup is the devil’s weapon which tempts men to sin.

  Even on my wedding day, I only wore clear lip gloss for shine. But Brynne introduced me to a few necessities a few days ago, and convinced me to buy a makeup starter kit to experiment with.

  Despite feeling like a wreck inside, I have to work it. Brynne reminded me again that her boss is a jerk, but he cares more about a pretty face than work experience.

  As I smear plum lipstick across my lips that gives them a burst of color, my father’s voice sneaks into my head. “The fury of Hell will swallow you whole.”

  My well-trained heart begs me to heed his warning, to return to the obedient girl I used to be, but I harden my heart. For the first time, I’m thinking for myself. He makes God out to be someone always on the lookout for people to punish. I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t want to.

  I resist the temptation to get back to what’s familiar and make amends with my father. My new-found stubborn streak won’t allow me to give up on myself and what I believe in.

  I push the warnings to the back of my mind and take my time doing my makeup the way Brynne showed me. I rely on the help of the bright morning sunlight coming through the bathroom window.