Hotel Liasion

by JLee Meyer

  “Well, not only are they offering a shitload of money to lease your hotel as their temporary premises for a year or whatever it takes, they’re offering us a membership. Do you know how long the wait list is to be a member? At least ten years. Me, a member of the Bohemian Club. You should be proud of your brother.” He took another puff.

  “You forget, I still own the hotel.”

  “Only for a few weeks. The acceleration clause has been activated, though, so it’ll be in our hands soon enough.”

  Wheeling her attention to Trip Boynton for the first time, she caught a sly grin on his face. “You knew this would happen. You purposely didn’t ask for written permission.”

  “Relax, sis. You’re getting all worked up. Guess you should have made that little detail your business, huh?”

  “But the bank gave me your name. Made the phone call. That’s tacit approval, and you never said a word.”

  Blowing a smoke ring, George chimed in. “Yeah, Trip, what did your attorney say?”

  “My attorney is the best in the business. He assures me all is in order on our end.”

  Stef had never felt more alone. “Does Dad know about this?”

  “I don’t report in to our father about my own investment activities,” George pompously intoned.

  Relief fluttered through Stef’s chest, lifting the dead weight from it a little. If she couldn’t find her own way out of this financial jam, she would have to ask for her dad’s help. It was good to know he hadn’t betrayed her, too. “You can both go fuck yourselves.”

  George laughed and stroked the cigar. “No, sister dearest, I believe we just fucked you.”

  She felt her eyes narrow as she spoke. “Really, George, I thought you preferred to play with your cigarillo. At least that’s what I recall from childhood. You’re deluding yourself with that big cigar.”

  Boynton was choking on the smoke and George sputtering vile epithets when she slammed out of the office. On her way out of the reception area she ran into Agnes Brady, who looked down and blushed intensely.

  “I’m, I’m so sorry, Ms. Beresford.”

  Stef finally blew out the breath she’d been holding since walking in. “You knew about this?”

  The assistant stared at the floor, her silence providing the answer.

  “Well, I feel sorry for you, wasting your time with scum like Boynton and my brother.”

  With that, she left the building and walked out into the bleakest beautiful day in San Francisco she’d ever known.

  *

  Laurel was horrified. “Have you told Denny and Sika?”

  “They know.” Stef still had trouble believing George could sink so low. He’d managed to squeeze her out of the Beresford family business. Wasn’t that enough? “Denny offered to break kneecaps and Sika is working on some kind of plan. They’re my real family.”

  Laurel found her hand and held it. “Stef, what about your father and your other brother? Do you think they’re involved in this?”

  “George says Dad had nothing to do with it.” Stef paused, still bewildered by George. “I don’t know why he hates me, but he does.”

  “So the first mortgage holder is the one accelerating, and you think your brother and his friend duped you into not notifying them in writing about the second mortgage.”

  “That’s about it. We were desperate for the money, we needed it immediately to keep on schedule. I was too hasty. I assumed something I shouldn’t have.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did the best you could.”

  They entered the café area where the others were gathered. Denny signaled for a private word as Stef poured a glass of wine for Laurel and opened a bottle of beer for herself. Leaving Sika, Jock, and Irina Castic to care of Laurel, Stef ambled over to Denny. Her friend’s eyes were dead serious.

  “We have another problem, Stef.”

  “What now?”

  “Our attorney dropped us as clients. He stated conflict of interest. Seems he’d rather make bucks from the rich dudes who own our second mortgage than us. Thinks we’re ‘iffy,’ at best.”

  “Charming. And all the other attorneys I know work for my family. Therefore, they work for George.”

  Glancing over her shoulder at the group around the table, Denny said, “Look, we’ll find out more tomorrow. I just needed to give you a heads up. Let’s go join the others. Laurel’s already looking around for you.”

  Stef cast a quick look at Laurel. She seemed to be enjoying herself, listening to Jock telling a humorous story about the day. Stef appreciated the way her friends had rallied around Laurel, helping without fawning, doing for her without making a big deal out of it.

  Softly, Denny asked, “You okay? You seem a little out of it. How’s Laurel?”

  “What? Oh, I’m fine. Laurel’s sore, but I admire that she has the courage to face everyone. I’d want to stay in our hole.” She must have sounded disappointed that they didn’t stay there.

  “Stef, what happened? And don’t evade.”

  Damn, Denny always knew when something was up. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny, she muttered, “We kissed.” She didn’t mention holding Laurel. It was too personal, too intimate.

  Denny frowned, as though she could barely hear, then her eyes became much wider. She sagged against the sidebar Stef was leaning on. “Be careful, my friend. She’s probably not in a very good place right now.”

  There was no judgment in her tone. Knowing that Denny really liked Laurel, Stef was sure the concern was for both of them, and she had a point. The timing could not have been worse. “I know. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just…did.”

  “I’m dying to lecture you right now, you realize that, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Thanks for not doing that.” Sneaking another glance toward the women a few yards away, Stef asked, “Are you going to tell Mamaka?”

  Shaking her head and grinning, Denny said, “Do you think I need to? Look at her.”

  Dismayed, Stef watched Sika say something to Laurel. Her expression was patient and knowing, suggesting that not only had she guessed, she had an opinion about it. Stef got the sinking feeling she was soon going to get that lecture anyway. She took a few steps toward the group, Denny at her side, and tuned into the conversation.

  “I’ve been searching for a month,” Laurel said. “But I can’t find a direct reference to the Elysium Society. The Internet, library, journals, archives. There are some indirect ones, though, and those make it seem like a myth. But when I go through the room diaries of the hotel, the references are everywhere.”

  “Perhaps it was just an informal group.” Sika’s casual tone seemed to belie her laser focus on Laurel.

  “Maybe, but I think there was more to it. Didn’t you say the club you were involved with wasn’t just a reading group, Mrs. Castic?”

  Mrs. C gave a noncommittal shrug. “The hotel guests all had different interests.”

  Laurel nodded. “From what I can tell, there were some very powerful women, some straight, some probably gay, who came to this hotel. I suspect most of them were connected to the Society. Some traveled a very long way, considering the transportation available at the time. I’ve checked a few of the big names against newspapers of the period. There was no mention of their visits.”

  Shrugging, Jock said, “Well, that’s not surprising. They didn’t have the media we do now. No paparazzi.”

  Denny agreed. “Without extensive research, maybe biographies, it’s difficult to confirm details like that.”

  Laurel nodded, but pressed her argument. “I think there was more to the Society. If I can discover what it was, it might be a real find in the field of women’s rights.”

  It occurred to Stef that this arena was where Laurel felt confident and in command. Her mind, her research. Stef moved so that she was standing behind Mrs. C and could see Laurel’s face. As marred as it was by the beating, she was still a striking woman. Stef could get lost in those beautiful eyes, so alive with e
nthusiasm. She let herself absorb Laurel’s animated features and the expressive movements of her hands, delighting in her obvious comfort with the people around her. Though muted by her injuries, her passion shone through with crystal clarity.

  Despite her appearance and the self-consciousness she must feel, she seemed so engaged in her subject, Stef couldn’t help but feel an irrational optimism. Whatever the obstacles, Stef was determined not to be defeated. She wanted to see that expression on Laurel’s face every day. She wanted to give her everything Rochelle had denied her. Affirmation. Support. A safe place. The encouragement to become the terrific woman she was.

  The strength of her feelings startled her. And there was more. She wanted to give Laurel the care and affection she deserved. Stef’s heart started to pound. She wanted to hold Laurel, and kiss her, and feel her respond. She wanted to be naked and feel their bodies slide together. Unnerved, she pulled out a chair. She really needed to sit down.

  “What will you do with the information?” Mrs. C’s voice cut quietly into Stef’s tangled thoughts. “If you uncover the purpose of the Elysium Society, I mean.”

  There was more than anticipation in the room as Laurel considered her reply, there was tension.

  Stef thought the answer was obvious and said so. “She’ll publish, of course. If it’s really juicy, she could turn it into a book, then she could name the university she would go to, as a full professor. That was why you started the project in the first place, right? To publish.”

  That statement only served to heighten the tension.

  “What am I missing here?” Stef asked.

  Laurel’s gaze never broke from Mrs. C’s. “I think Mrs. Castic is asking about some of the entries that suggest love relationships between women who were previously thought straight. There could be evidence that confirms long-held suspicions or rumors about these women.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?” Stef wasn’t sure why Mrs. C would be worried about facts coming to light, especially if the women were deceased.

  Sika interjected, “It depends on who you are talking about. Some of these women must have gone to great lengths to ensure their privacy. I think that raises some ethical questions about respecting their wishes, doesn’t it?”

  Laurel said, “Historian and biographers always face such questions. There aren’t any simple answers. Besides that, I think there was more to the hotel than providing a secret place for trysts that were not allowed in society at the time.” Looking directly at Mrs. C, she continued, “The majority of these women were wealthy and influential in their own right, through family or marriage. They seemed to have formed an organization that, on the surface, was acceptably concerned with fashion and literature. But notes left in the diaries have far more depth than one would expect from women in their positions.”

  She paused to sip water and Stef thought she was choosing her words carefully. “They spoke of wars, of jobs, of the poor, of politics. All in relation to the status of women. Some alluded to directing their influence to issues. I can’t tell for sure if the Elysium Society adopted an organized approach to wielding its members’ power unless I can find minutes of meetings, or perhaps talk in detail to someone who was involved.”

  Everyone at the table followed Laurel’s gaze to Irina Castic. The silence made the air in the room feel heavy.

  Eventually Sika said, “Your theory is fascinating, but why would they base their society at this hotel? Surely these wealthy women could meet anywhere they chose.”

  “I think it was patterned after the Bohemian Club.” Laurel hesitated as though expecting skepticism. “That’s an all-male private club made up of the wealthiest and most influential men in the world. They direct domestic policy and make decisions on global matters, all from behind their closed and very private doors. And they’ve marginalized women from the very beginning. Their building is down the street from this hotel.”

  “You’re saying the Elysium Society was the female antidote to the Bohos?” Jock concluded.

  “Possibly. That would explain the need for secrecy. Women are expert at flying under the radar, and I think that’s what they did, right here at this hotel.”

  “So what happened?” Stef frowned. “This is exactly the kind of club that could have kept going for generations, with all the social change we’ve seen.”

  After a pregnant hush, Mrs. C said, “We probably would have.” She seemed to be deliberating over her every word. “They got control of the hotel. No one saw it coming.”

  “What do you mean?” Laurel had to be exhausted but she was riveted to Mrs. C, as was every woman in the room.

  “The Bohemian Club was responsible. They gave their orders and their members acted individually. Remember, some of the women who belonged to the Elysium Society were married to members of that organization. Others were daughters, sisters, and such.”

  “I see,” Laurel mused aloud. “They were threatened?”

  Mrs. C took a sip of wine and rested a moment. “Women who were from wealthy families were told they would be disinherited if they came to the hotel. Married women were forbidden, sometimes by force. Those who made money themselves, such as artists, actresses, or writers, were told they would never work again if they so much as set foot in the building.”

  Stef’s mouth had gone dry as soon as Mrs. C started talking. A feeling of dread began to form in her gut. “So the men in their lives just went along with it, even the decent ones?”

  “They were vulnerable, too,” Mrs. C replied. “Their businesses and reputations could have been ruined. Contracts awarded to someone else. False accusations made. I know a few of them agonized over it, but they were in the minority. Most were outraged that their woman would be involved with something so reprehensible as seeking rights for themselves and networking to have influence.”

  “It’s incredible that these women just allowed this to happen.” Stef couldn’t help but think about herself as soon as the words were out. Her brother and his cronies had all but checkmated her, and this was the twenty-first century.

  “You have to remember that back then even if a woman was the source of her husband’s wealth, she had no rights once she was married. And if women insisted they didn’t want to marry, their families could choose to have them declared incompetent. There were plenty of judges willing to sign the orders.”

  “That’s why it seemed to happen overnight,” Laurel said. “The hotel went downhill very fast. I’ve been wondering why.”

  “They systematically destroyed it.” Mrs. C sighed. “They gained control and designated it for cheap, pay-as-you-go occupancy. Drug dealers and disreputable people immediately took it over, but not until the finer amenities had been stripped by those bastards.”

  Laurel was insistent. “But how did they actually get the hotel? Who owned it?”

  Mrs. C smiled and looked to the window, as though seeing a memory. “Seraphina Drake inherited the hotel. She was a delightful and determined woman, a dear friend. She had to marry—her father insisted, and chose one Clayton B. Holloway II. Holloway was decent enough in the beginning and ignored Sera and the hotel while he managed their other holdings. I think he thought the hotel would keep her occupied so he could do as he pleased with her wealth.” Her voice took on a bitter edge. “He became quite accustomed to money and power, and my vibrant friend began to vanish right before my eyes. Holloway had affairs, and flaunted them. It was worse after he joined the Bohemian Club. And, of course, he served this hotel up to them like the faithful flunky he was.”

  Stef might as well have been kicked. She turned to Denny and then to Sika and saw the same realization on their faces. To the group she said, “I think those men are trying to sabotage this hotel again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The room was dark when they returned. Laurel needed more help walking along the hallways and getting ready for bed than she would have liked. She was incredibly stiff and sore even though two days had passed since Rochelle attacked her. But
Stef offered without asking and it felt amazingly good to be in contact with another body, especially Stef’s body. Laurel kept telling herself that Stef was her friend, her close friend. But even she, so accustomed to denial of reality, couldn’t keep up that pretense.

  Stef was her rock, she had been there for her, offering shelter and friendship, but so had the others. Laurel frowned, feeling dizzy and fearful suddenly. Two days had passed without her going to work. As usual Rochelle would have made excuses for her, but by now she had to be wondering where Laurel was and waiting for her to walk back in the door full of apologies. Without her realizing it, her breathing must have changed or her body slackened, because suddenly Stef was holding her close, crooning reassurances as if to a child.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispered sweetly. “I won’t let her hurt you anymore. You’re safe, you’re safe.”

  They were on Stef’s bed and Laurel hardly remembered getting there. But Stef’s tone, and the certainty of her words, broke the dam that had been crumbling for some time. Laurel lost what self-control she had. Ignoring her painful ribs and sore face, she sobbed into Stef’s shoulder, burrowing into her chest, trying to hide and be safe from the monster that was her life.

  Rochelle wasn’t the monster, she was. She had allowed their dysfunctional relationship to continue. She had let her life be ruled by an out-of-control narcissist who thought nothing of sacrificing Laurel to her own wishes and desires. She was so pitiful, she had even started to believe all the hateful things Rochelle had said over the years. It was her own fault that she was in this mess. Between racking sobs, she confessed it all to Stef, knowing that, in the end, Stef would be repulsed by her weakness, but not able to stop herself.

  Stef held Laurel, brave and steadfast, letting her cry. She heard the self-loathing, the blame she had taken on, the shame for allowing it. When Laurel’s body softened into a deep slumber, purged of the venom that had ruled her life for so long, Stef gently extricated herself, slipped out of the bed, and left the room, sure that Laurel wouldn’t wake for some time.