Hard Work

by K. M. Scott

  He was an ass, and I had always known that.

  If only I’d listened to my gut.

  I looked out the window and saw rain begin to pour down, mirroring how I felt. I couldn’t take it one more second. I decided to abandon my food and the dining room altogether since sitting there made me feel exposed and humiliated. As I hurried past the check-in desk towards the stairs, Mandy gave me a look of pity that only made things worse.

  And then, as I walked up the stairs to hide away in my room for the rest of the day, my phone vibrated and my day instantly became ten times worse.

  “What do you want, Dustin?” I asked sharply, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.

  If there was one person who I didn’t care to manage my tone around, it was my annoying ex. Sure, he might have been getting some overflow from the anger I felt towards Zane, but I simply didn’t care.

  Dustin or Zane. The difference between them at that moment didn’t seem much.

  “You should watch that tone of yours, Becca. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place.” Dustin smugly said, angering me further with his cocky attitude.

  “This mess? Are you implying we divorced because of my bad attitude? I’m sorry, Dustin. Maybe my memory isn’t serving me, but I think your proclivity for sleeping with other women probably hurt us more than my bad attitude.”

  “There you go again. Do you ever take responsibility for anything? Maybe there was a reason I didn’t want you and wanted someone else.”

  Disgusted already with how this conversation had turned, I began to take the stairs two at a time. “Well, you sure picked a winner, Dustin. How’s that gold digging bitch of yours doing? Still going into debt with your lawyer trying to get a townhouse to sell to fund the lavish lifestyle you can’t afford?”

  My words were hateful and rude, and I meant every syllable from the bottom of my heart. I was sick of the men in my life thinking they could just walk all over me. The time had come to let this one have it.

  “Sure, Becca, keep digging your grave. You know, you’ll never find love if you’re such a bitch all the time. It’s not like you have any other redeeming qualities except your bank account to fall back on.”

  “Why are you calling me? We agreed to keep things between our lawyers. Your voice isn’t on my list of things I’m interested in hearing, so whatever you have to say, you need to say it or get the fuck off this phone call before I hang up on you.”

  “Wow, real nice Becca.”

  “Fuck you, Dustin.”

  “Nice. Well, I wanted you to know your lawyer will hear from my new one. Her name is Angela Wolfson. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

  I stopped on the landing between the second and third floors and took a deep breath in. That explained the arrogance in his voice. I had heard of her. Other authors called her a powerhouse. She was widely regarded as the nastiest and most effective divorce lawyer in Manhattan, and she had a track record of winning every case that came her way. Some said it was because of her pit bull-like-viciousness. Others claimed she had an almost mob-like connection within the system. Whatever it was, she was a force to be reckoned with.

  I stood there in the hallway leaning against the wall stunned, mostly at how Dustin would have been able to afford such a formidable lawyer. My head began to spin. Could this day get any worse?

  “I’m going to guess by your silence you have heard of her. Good. I’m getting that townhouse, Becca. Make sure you keep it clean for the people I end up selling it to. I don’t want to have to pay for some cleaning crew to get that stink of lavender you love so much out of every square inch. I’d keep that attitude in check too. The judge isn’t going to like what a bitch you are, and at this rate, you’ll be losing that townhouse sooner than you think. My gold digging bitch and I will love selling it right out from underneath you.”

  With that he hung up, leaving me there with the phone to my ear and the overwhelming need to cry like a baby. I rushed to my room on auto-pilot. I didn’t want to be around anyone, including the staff that passed me on the stairs and in the hallway who kept giving me looks that told me my emotions were written all over my face.

  I shut the door behind me, and before I knew it, the tears began streaming down my face. I closed my eyes and collapsed on the bed, letting my head hit the pillow and hoping I could forget about how bad my day had suddenly become. Much like the weather outside raging against the glass window panes in my room, when it rained it poured, and it sure was raining a lot in my life now.

  Dustin didn’t have to be such an ass, yet he never failed to be just that, but he wasn’t a big surprise. Zane, however, had been. I couldn’t get the thought of that woman hanging all over him out of my mind, and I had the horrible feeling that somewhere in that hotel while I cried into my pillow, Zane was fucking her into his.

  The thought only made the whole situation worse. I couldn’t help it, though, and I decided just to let myself have a good long cry. Why couldn’t I attract good men who didn’t want to take my home from me or throw women like that life-sized Barbie in my face after having sex with me?

  What did it matter? There was nothing else to be done about Zane or what we’d done together, and for once, I didn’t want to be the problem solver or the strong one. I simply wanted to cry.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Zane

  Stacey reclined on my bed, ready for what she thought we came back to my room to do, and grinned as she put her hands behind her head. “Someone was in a hurry for us to be alone.”

  I turned my back on her and sat down at my desk to check out some paperwork on the inn’s business insurance that I’d been neglecting. I had zero interest in talking to her. If I was honest, I didn’t want to waste any more of my time dealing with her further as she’d seriously been getting on my nerves from the minute she arrived.

  When I didn’t respond to her come hither thing she had going on, she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I didn’t react, so she blew softly in my ear and whispered, “The bed’s over there, baby.”

  Even her breathing irritated me, and I shrugged her off, not even wanting her to touch me. I had wanted to spend the weekend with Becca, but the look on her face when Stacey spoke to her made my stomach turn. Even worse, I didn’t know if she would ever speak to me again other than about an advertising campaign I really didn’t give a damn about.

  Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Fucking terrific.

  Stacey planted kisses along the side of my neck, and I gently pushed her away again. “Can you not, please? I’m busy, and I don’t have time for whatever you’re doing right now.”

  “Baby, come on. Isn’t this why you told me we should come upstairs? You can finish that later. I’m here now. That’s better than some stupid work for this shit hole, isn’t it?” she said, leaning around me to give me that baby doll look she liked to use on men.

  In the past, it would have been easy to shove my work aside and throw her down on the bed to fuck her brains out. Now, though, she repulsed me somehow. I didn’t exactly know why, but the woman I’d been so unhappy about losing just a few weeks ago now meant nothing.

  I rolled my eyes and went back to work, but she persisted. Finally, I snapped and said, “I don’t want anything to do with you right now, Stacey. Scratch that. I just don’t want anything to do with you. Period. Come to think of it, why the fuck are you even here again?”

  She stood up and glared at me, twisting her phony face into an ugly grimace. “What the fuck is your problem? You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  The bitchy attitude of hers that I knew lurked below that plastic surface came roaring back. She flipped her long, straight hair over her shoulder and shot her right hip out, a signal that a big fight was just seconds from starting.

  “Are you serious? How long did it take you to find someone new after I left California? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Why the fuck should I want anything to do with you?” I said, pushing myself back fr
om my desk and finally seeing her for the childish little girl she truly was.

  She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes to angry slits. With a growl in her voice, she said, “We had all but broken up, and you know it, Zane. Besides, you’re the one who ran away to this dump without even a second thought. Blah, blah, blah, my mom’s will. You could have just stayed. Why don’t you want me now? You seemed to be all ready to go downstairs.”

  For a moment, I stood there just looking at her and wondered how I could have spent so long with her. Did we have anything in common other than what we did in bed? Had we ever had a real conversation that didn’t end in us fucking?

  “There’s someone else, okay? Is that what you need to hear? Just like you, I was able to move on too, so why don’t you get over it and yourself in the process, okay?”

  Her mouth dropped open and she looked stunned for a moment before backing away from me. “Are you serious? Who the hell is it? Is it someone I know? Is it someone from back home?”

  I rolled my eyes and walked past her into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face while I tried to calm myself down and avoid the fight that had already begun. I didn’t want to discuss this with Stacey. I should have never agreed to see her. I looked in the mirror and saw the full truth of my mistake staring back at me in Stacey’s angry eyes.

  “You don’t get to just walk away from me like that, you dick. Who is it? You need to start talking, now!”

  “I don’t feel like doing this right now, Stacey. I’ve had a long couple of months,” I said as I tilted my head back and forth desperately trying to crack my neck to ease the stress from how this day had gone to hell.

  “Fuck you! I don’t give a rat’s ass how long a couple of months you’ve had. Who is it?” she demanded.

  Staring back at her as she stood behind me, I thought about lying to her since I couldn’t truly say Becca and I were together after what had happened downstairs, but then I said fuck it. She wanted to know who I’d moved on with? Good. I’d tell her.

  “The woman downstairs. Her name is Becca. It’s her, okay? Is that what you need to fucking hear? It’s the beautiful woman downstairs with qualities and intelligence you’ll never have. Is that what I need to say to you to get you to leave me the fuck alone?” I shouted at her, my hands gripping the edge of the sink as I stared back at her in the mirror.

  Her expression looked like someone had slapped her across the face. Hurt slowly filled her eyes, surprising me, but then it morphed into anger that began to roll off her in waves. As if she didn’t know what to say, she stood there just staring at me until she finally broke the silence.

  “Why aren’t you together then?”

  That question didn’t have a good answer. At least it didn’t have an answer that made me feel good about anything I’d done.

  Stacey took a step back into my room and shook her head. “I know what you’re doing. Oh, my God! I know! You didn’t tell me you were with someone because you wanted to use me to make her jealous. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t say a word. Part of me wondered if she was right. Had I subconsciously wanted that?

  “Do you realize what a dick you are, Zane? I might have fucked up by seeing other people when you left, but you’re a real piece of work for doing that to some new girl. What is wrong with you? Are you even capable of having a real emotion without fucking it up for yourself? I wasn’t always perfect. I get that, but for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you?”

  I sighed and turned around, feeling defeated. She wasn’t totally wrong. We had all but broken up when I had told her I wouldn’t be returning to California. Sure, we had mentioned we would see one another again, but we both knew what was happening when I left her back there.

  “Stacey…”

  “No. You know what, Zane? Just…just fucking don’t. You were right about one thing. I should have never come here,” she said as she walked back into the room and grabbed her things.

  Following her, I said, “Let me get the bags.”

  She spun around and barked, “Just stay away from me. I’ll have one of your people take them for me.”

  I heard her order someone in the hallway to get her suitcases, and in a second, a young guy I’d only met once stood at my door looking unsure which one of us he wanted to deal with.

  “That woman told me to get her bags, Mr. Gilford,” he explained in a shaky voice.

  I waved him into my room and handed him two of Stacey’s suitcases. “I’ll get the other two and follow you downstairs.”

  He quickly lifted the bags and hurried after her. Still a little stunned at all that had happened in the past hour, I picked up the other two and slowly headed down to the lobby to find her walking out the front door.

  By the time I reached her car, she was already sitting inside. I put the suitcases in the trunk and closed it. Before I could reach her, she floored the gas and tore out of the parking lot, leaving me for the second time in a week watching a woman driving at top speed to get away from me.

  I should have felt more sadness over it, but that would have been a lie. I never had any true feeling for her, as horrible as that sounded. We used each other and now that had ended. I’d gotten exactly what I deserved. It just hadn’t turned out to be what I had wanted.

  A few people on the front porch looked away as I walked back inside the inn. I saw Mandy at the check-in desk, and she quickly lowered her gaze and pretended to be busy doing work.

  “Is Becca in her usual room?”

  I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it or not, but when Mandy looked up, her expression seemed to show disgust as she shook her head. “No, sir. She checked out about an hour ago. She did leave the work she did for the ad campaign with me, though.”

  Her words sounded professional, like always, but something in her eyes told me that she knew what had happened and didn’t approve. It seemed everyone hated me at that moment. Who could blame them for believing I was an asshole like Stacey had said. A real dick. I should have just left well enough alone and kept on trying to be a good guy instead of trying to manipulate Stacey’s visit.

  I should have known what would happen.

  I took the envelope that Mandy held out to me and walked away, disgusted with myself. I reached my room and closed the door behind me, wishing I could forget everything that happened.

  Lying on my bed, I read through the proposals Becca created for the ad campaign for the inn. As I knew they would be, they were great. She captured the feel of the place I had to admit I’d never truly felt.

  But she had. There in the plans her love for The Gilford House Inn came through loud and clear. She cared for the place like my mother had.

  Like she always wished I would. But I never felt that about this inn.

  Now I felt like garbage. I had only gone through her advertising agency to get closer to her. I didn’t truly care about The Gilford House Inn doing any better. I only needed to keep it in the same successful shape that my mother had left it in. I’d never felt anything more than that.

  It was always a means to an end.

  And my ruse about advertising had all been to get Becca back to the inn. The thing was, it was so obvious that she cared about the inn that I felt like that much more of an asshole for doing what I had done to her.

  I paced my room for a few minutes before grabbing my cell phone and dialing her number. My call went to voicemail, so in my best attempt to act casual and salvage the situation, I left a message.

  “Hey, Becca! I just got the proposals for the advertising campaign, and I love them! The whole campaign looks incredible. Listen, give me a call back, okay? Talk to you soon.”

  Over the next two hours, I nearly wore out the carpet in my room as I paced back and forth waiting for her to return my call. I looked out the window over the grounds, walked into the bathroom and tried not to notice the shame written all over my face, and walked back out into the bedroom only to repeat the whole process over and over again.
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  Still, she didn’t call.

  Eventually, I broke down and picked up the phone again, dialing her number as I wiped some of the sweat from my brow. Still, it went to voicemail, so I left a second message.

  “Hey, Becca! It’s Zane again. Just wanted to catch up with you about the campaign. As I mentioned before, it looks great! Please give me a call back when you get this.”

  But deep in my heart, I knew she wouldn’t call back. Why would she? If I was lucky, she’d send me a vague and professional-sounding email or the even less personal mailed letter.

  I lay back on my bed and stared at the room around me. For the first time at the inn, the overtly feminine room didn’t bother me. I looked at the ideas Becca had for the campaign over and over again, and something about her love for The Gilford House Inn started to worm its way into me.

  It wasn’t that bad a place. It just wasn’t my style. But somehow the flowery walls, the pinkish carpets, the doilies, and Thomas Kinkaid style paintings all came together and didn’t look nearly as awful as I had always thought.

  I grabbed my bottle of Jack and after a few drinks couldn’t be in the room anymore, though. It had nothing to do with the style. I just felt trapped.

  The whole Stacey thing had been stupid. There was nothing else to call it. I should have just told her to stay away, but instead I did what I always did and hurt a great woman who hadn’t deserved it. Stacey’s words echoed in my brain, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  I walked down to the dining room hoping to get some relief from my self-imposed torment of guilt and shame. The alcohol hadn’t even made me feel better like it usually did. Instead, I just felt groggy and in desperate need of a cup of coffee.

  Grabbing some from the break room, I sat down at my usual table by the window in the dining room. From there I could see the grounds, and the view made me think of when Becca was there. When I glanced up at the table next to me, I saw Mandy there drinking a cup of coffee too.