Before Justine could respond or even prepare herself, Patrick pulled her up against him and took her lips in a searing kiss that left her breathless, her mind numb, her body suddenly, achingly awake. He shoved her against the wall, his hard body pressing into hers making his intentions and desire undeniably known.
A stern knock on the door quickly halted Patrick who stepped back silently cursing, leaving Justine dazed, flushed, and just as disappointed to be interrupted. Flinging open the door, Patrick stared stunned at Liz as a million unpleasant greetings flooded his mind.
He knew that she was there to create a dramatic scene--something he didn't want Justine to experience or go through again himself. Beneath her eyes were rivers of flooding black mascara, her face swollen from crying. She leaned in closely to speak with Patrick.
With breath laced in booze, Liz sauntered even closer to Patrick, her wide smile looking out of place on her swollen tear covered face.
"So you choose her over me?" Her smile carried a nefarious arch to it, her breath assaulting Patrick with its alcohol induced courage.
"Liz, you and I have been over this again and again. I'm sorry." His words were soft, but not so quiet that Justine couldn't hear them.
"Sorry! You're SORRY?" Her scream seemed out of place as it bounced off the walls in the elegant hotel. Patrick stood up tall and yanked Liz by the wrist into Justine's room before slamming the door behind her. Liz stumbled, and laughed, although who she was laughing at was a mystery. She had to concentrate to regain her footing.
"Liz, pull yourself together!" Patrick’s stern voice caused her eyes to start to overflow with tears again. With a trembling voice she continued,
"So you've decided to bed the new star of Spectrum? I'm just old hat now, right?" Justine watched the two of them in amazement, finally learning the reason for Liz' loathsome attitude toward her.
"This is bullshit, Liz! We've been over for months now. I'm sorry, but it just wasn't there for me. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Always go for the glory, eh, Patrick? Gonna ride on her coattails while she's what’s hot? Is that how it works?" Just as suddenly as the tears had come, a devious smile lit Liz' face. With a whirlwind’s quickness, she plucked the suite’s bottle of house wine given as a courtesy to the hotel’s guests. Setting it down loudly on the small round table in the center of the room, she picked up the full ice bucket. Liz winked and blew a heartless kiss at Justine before swiveling back around and tossing the contents of the bucket on Patrick.
While Patrick and Justine both stood there too stunned to move, Liz calmly set down the bucket and looked pointedly at Justine.
"Let me just warn you, it will never last. Once the excitement of being with the new star of Spectrum has worn out, he'll just dump you as fast as he dumped me."
Without another word or a glance back, Liz left the room quietly. Patrick turned back to Justine who quickly avoided his eyes and stepped into the bathroom leaving him wet, hurt, and confused-feeling much the same way she herself felt. Why had he never told her about him and Liz? Why hide it if it was really over with?
After cleaning up the spilled ice, drying himself off, and angrily ripping off his soaked jacket, Patrick sat awkwardly on the small sofa in Justine's room, waiting anxiously for her to come out of the bathroom to which she seemed to have escaped. Justine sat on the toilet, wishing she would hear her front door open and close signaling Patrick's exit. It didn't take long for her to realize that he wasn't going to make it that easy for her when he knocked on the door tentatively.
"Justine, are you going to stay in there all night?"
"I haven't decided yet," she said through the closed door.
"Justine, please come out. We need to talk about this." His voice was firm although his heart was pounding with grief.
"We have nothing to talk about." Her solemn words triggered a pain in his chest that he had never previously experienced.
"I think that we do, Justine." He waited for her to answer, nearly ready to give up when he finally heard her voice.
"We're talking now, Patrick." To his surprise she opened the bathroom door and stared sadly at him.
"Why didn't you ever tell me about you and Liz?" Her stabbing words arrowed in straight at him.
"I didn't see any reason for it." Although, he knew she was entitled to, he felt miffed that she would ask such a directly defensive question. When her eyes remained calm and fully locked with his, he continued to answer with,
"We've been over for months now, Justine. I thought she was over it, too." Justine simply sailed passed him to sit on the edge of the bed.
"I think you should go now, Patrick, I'd like to be alone." He stared at her numbly for a few moments, hoping, wishing, fervently that she would change her mind. When she merely remained silent, he quietly exited the room, leaving her to an ocean of
unanswered questions.
Justine sat on the edge of the bed for a while, needing time to silently lick her wounds. When she finally stood up to undress and prepare for her empty bed, she felt the day’s fatigue pulling her down rapidly.
Justine soon realized that her mind, unlike her body, wasn't quite tired enough to sleep just yet. She stood wearing a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts, once again staring in the mirror at her reflection. She knew with an innate knowledge that her looks didn't hold a candle to Liz’ more sophisticated beauty. She stared into her own eyes and knew that Patrick must have been sincere in saying that he no longer had feelings for Liz.
Defeated yet hopeful, Justine turned away from her reflection and reached for her small evening bag, suddenly remembering the strange encounter with the man outside of the restroom. She dug the small note out of her purse, unfolded it nervously, and stared at the words written on it in a thin graceful script.
Merry Meet, Witch.
Room # 321
I'd love to share your company.
Quickly Justine refolded the note and dropped it abruptly onto her small night stand as if it carried some deadly poison.
Witch? What was that supposed to mean? Who was the man and why had he called her a Witch? Cautiously, Justine reopened the note, hoping that it contained some sort of a clue but all the while knowing that there was not one there. She tossed aside the note, still unfolded.
Justine stood up and paced around the room before stopping in front of the window and glanced out at the hovering full moon in the sparkling night sky. The rain had finally stopped earlier leaving the land shiny and fresh.
Feeling eyes on her, Justine leaned further out of the window, searching out for someone spying on her. Was Patrick outside staring up into her window? That was preposterous, why would he do that? Or was it that strange man who had given her the note? But if he desired her company, wouldn't he be waiting in his room for her? The mystery added even another dimension when she remembered Liz, glowering and snarling her vehemenence.
As far as Justine could see there was nothing outside the window but rolling green grass and a parking lot packed full of vehicles. She quickly backed away from the opening, knowing that just because she couldn't see anyone down there looking at her, didn't mean that no one was watching. She shook off the cold feeling and sat on the bed with an aggravated sigh. So much for being able to sleep now, she thought to herself.
Feeling disturbed and restless, Justine ordered a bottle of Sangria from room service. The bottle arrived shortly accompanied by two beautiful crystal goblets. Justine slowly sipped the fruity wine while ignoring the symbolism of the second glass. She glanced at her watch, surprised to realize that it was 10:30 because it seemed much later.
Justine got up to retrieve a book to read from her luggage. Her hand paused over the spine of the magickal purple book, before rushing over to a smaller paper back from one of her favorite authors. She gathered the book to her and sat with her back against the head board of the bed. Her wine sat ignored and nearly untouched on the bed side table next to her as she eased opened the book and tried
to slowly lose herself in the story’s mystical words.
After reading the same line for the third time, Justine set down the book in annoyance. A good book had always been a successful tool in helping her mind to focus and not stray from thought. Tonight, however, that was not the case, which infuriated her even more.
Justine stood again in front of the window, feeling even more restless than before. She wondered if this is how a thirsty vampire would feel waiting anxiously for the sun to go down so the nightly adventure could begin.
Needing to laugh at herself, she did and glanced at the time where again, she was disheartened to realize that only seven minutes had passed.
"Damn it," she hissed.
Feeling an unaccustomed rush of anger, Justine snatched up the phone and called the main lobby. She requested Liz' room number and gained it with ease by letting the desk clerk know that she was there with the convention. Moving with a rapid pace, Justine dressed in a short black mini skirt and a tight fitting red shirt that seductively showed off her navel. She freshened up her make up and brushed her hair till it shined, lying in natural waves over her shoulders.
Feeling as hot as she looked, Justine headed straight out the door and took the elevator to Liz's floor. She rode in determination to Liz's room intending to straighten things out with her. Although it was obvious the two women would never be friends, they did have to work together and Justine had a few things she needed to say to Liz. She confidently marched right up to Liz's door and raised her hand to knock. Before her knuckles could wrap on the door, she head a loud moan emitted from the room. While she paused, she heard another and then another. The sounds of the moans were tell tale, and needed no explanation. Justine stopped herself short as her heart seemed to drop to her feet. Was Patrick in there with Liz? Her long, sexy body crushed beneath his? The thought recoiled in her stomach making her queasy with disgust and anger. She stood there while the moans continued on, the two lovers oblivious to the storm that had gathered outside their door.
Justine turned away from the door, momentarily unsure of what to do. The empty hall suddenly seemed huge and formidable to her. An odd thought danced around her mind. Room 321. She could go there now, “and hurt Patrick as badly as he was hurting her”, a voice seemed to whisper to her. But what if it wasn't Patrick behind that door, another voice seemed to ask. Liz is beautiful, much more beautiful than you. The words jumbled together, forcing Justine to break lose of the stray thoughts. She looked back at Liz's door. Room 339. She could just knock. It made no difference to her if she interfered with Liz's extra curricular activities. She actually might enjoy the look of shame and confusion on Liz's normally haughty face.
Liz has no shame, said a definitive voice in Justine’s mind. She turned away from the door once again. Looking down the hallway, to the right was Room 321. She could go there, yes she could. She knew that he would be waiting there for her.
With her heart beating so rapidly that she began to sweat, Justine walked to the right, stopping in front of the mystery door. She stared at it for a long time, going over in her head the consequences of her own actions if she were to knock. She didn't belong to Patrick. The fact that she loved him shouldn't matter now. The fact that he had told her he loved her probably wasn't even true. Was he really after her because she was the new star of Spectrum? What woman could resist his smooth charm, his outright sexual appeal?
Again, voices assaulted her mind, and one of them screamed louder than the others, "You don't know that for sure, Justine!" She turned again to stare at the door. Then her eyes turned toward the elevator that could take her to Patrick's floor. A maid walked down the hall and passed her, smiling warmly.
Justine stood caught at a threshold, staring back and forth at Room 321 and the elevator. Finally, coming to a decision, Justine turned feeling courage and confidence in her choice.
Chapter Twelve
Standing in front of the closed door, Justine hoped she didn't look as ragged and exhausted as she felt. Her knock was tentative. She silently pleaded with all her heart that Patrick would answer the door, that he would be there. When she got no response, her heart breaking with each additional second that passed, she knocked again, this time more firmly. He had to be there. He just had to be.
From inside the room she heard a bump and then a loud curse in his masculine voice. Justine fluffed up her hair in a gesture known to women for thousands of generations and attempted to put on her most complacent smile. When she finally heard the lock being clicked back, her heart seemed to flip flop belying her cool self control. Watching the door knob turn so slowly almost destroyed her composure. Finally the door opened.
Patrick’s eyes stared at hers, dancing merrily. She realized with distressing regret that he was drunk, and still half dressed in his evening attire.
"Hey, baby." He stumbled to her and drunkenly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, cherishing her.
"I was sure that you hated me. I'm sorry, I really am, I should have told you about Liz, I just really didn't know how." Patrick’s words rolled out quickly, jumbled and slurred. Justine backed him into the room so she could close the door, guiding him to the large, unmade bed.
"I don't hate you, Patrick, but I do feel that you at least owe me the story." Truth, she had wanted to say truth, but in the light of his blinding sapphire eyes, it seemed too strong of a word.
With his arms still around her, Patrick collapsed onto the bed, pulling her down with him and laughing happily.
"Let's talk about it now, clear the air." His sour breath assaulted her face as she eased out of his arms and looked around the room to find the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on his bedside table, uncapped and half empty. This confirmed that he was wasted. Justine was getting tired of dealing with drunks.
"No, Patrick, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, there is time." Her voice was warm and soothing to him. He stared at her, his eyes like identical hearts with her name painted across them. He eagerly ran his large hands swiftly up and down her petite shoulders, unsure of whether or not he was trying to give or receive comfort.
"Oh, you didn’t come here to talk then." He smiled his devious yet somehow distractedly charming smile and leaned in to steal a kiss. The sour taste of whiskey assaulted her tongue before she could respond either positively or negatively. His body covered hers as he grabbed at her breasts hungrily.
"Patrick," she said pushing him back gently, "You need some sleep. Just let me hold you tonight." He stared at her, dimwitted and hurt.
"Okay, Justine, we shall sleep. But you have to stay and hold me all night. I need you here now, I love you, Justine." And so she did stay. She watched his eyes close peacefully knowing that tomorrow both he and she would pay for the night's events. Him for the excessive drinking, her when she got the entire story on Liz.
Once his breathing had become regular, she stroked his head which lay at her breast and reached over to turn out the light before saying, "I love you too Patrick, I'm so afraid of it, but I love you too."
*****
Justine woke up at eight A.M. and looked down at Patrick's still-sleeping face. Thinking quickly, she ordered room service for him--strong coffee and a fresh pitcher of water with two aspirins. Gingerly, she crawled out of the bed making sure to cover him back up, before she kissed his forehead and exited the room quietly.
Back in her own room which was identical to his, Justine sat on the bed and sighed. She brushed back the need for a mental breakdown and noticed a single rose in a crystal vase sitting on the same round table that held the now empty bucket of ice. She hurried to the rose assuming Patrick had sent it to her but had forgotten to ask about it in his inebriated state. She sniffed the sweet red English rose deeply, before removing the small gift card attached to it with a lovely white ribbon.
Merry Meet Again, my Witch. You came to my door last night, but did not knock.
I wonder why?
Find me, if you dare.
Before she even had time to co
ntemplate the note, Justine’s phone was ringing. She rushed to it, expecting it to be Patrick with his grumpiness as rotten as the headache that he surely had. To her surprise it was a female's voice on the other end of the line.
"Justine, I hope I didn't wake you." The speaker paused, "Actually I wasn't sure to call your room or Patrick's." There was a little squeal of happiness on the other line.
"Who is this?" Justine's voice was harsh after the night she had experienced.
"Oh, I'm sorry, it's me, Claudia." Instantly Justine felt warm and sorry for the hardness in her voice.
"Oh. Hi, Claudia, how are you?"
"If you have the time, I'd love to have breakfast with you." Justine paused for a moment, instantly paranoid over Claudia's intentions since she was, after all close to Liz.
"Yes, I would like that. I need to jump in the shower. How about half an hour from now?"
"That would be perfect. I'll meet you downstairs in the Rose Garden Café in half an hour."
After agreeing with Claudia, Justine softly hung up the phone and rose to take a shower. She found herself wondering if working at Spectrum was always such a dramatic puzzle of interesting situations.
Claudia had arrived at the café before Justine and sat in the lovely rose garden that looked out from the Cavalier Hotel onto the endless Virginia Beach strip. They were far enough back from the shore to see the ocean waves without hearing them. Wearing dove gray slacks and a white lace blouse, Justine spotted Claudia. The older woman stood up as she saw Justine approach and reached over to give her an unexpected hug.
"Thank you so much for coming, Justine."
Justine seated herself and smiled at Claudia. The look of warm friendliness on Claudia's face changed quickly to an earnest seriousness.
"I'd like to speak to you very honestly and openly on a couple of matters." Justine couldn't find the right words to reply to this information.
"Is that alright with you?" Claudia's voice still carried a somber tone and her eyes brimmed with insistence.
"I guess so." Justine sat up straight, her defenses instantly alert. She also felt somewhat hurt, having had friendly feelings for Claudia.
Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 10
