The Hotel

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Okay,” I begrudgingly agreed.

  He smiled. “Thanks, baby. I appreciate it.”

  Ava had pushed her head back and fallen asleep by the time we pulled up in front of Taylor Anderson’s house. “She’s tired,” I said, twisting my head in Greg’s direction. “I’ll stay in the car with her.”

  This was my preference anyway as I was ready to be home. Since I’d never met Taylor, I presumed going inside would take longer, imagining after introductions and small talk, it’d be a minimum of thirty minutes at best. If I stayed in the car, Greg might be inclined to grab the paperwork and be back quickly. Hopefully.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s a safe neighborhood and I can lock the car. It won’t take but a minute.”

  “No, I’d prefer not leaving her alone. It makes me too nervous.”

  “Well, okay. I’ll hurry.”

  He locked us inside and scurried to the door. His finger briefly rested on the doorbell and a few moments later it opened, and he disappeared inside before I caught a glimpse of Taylor.

  Taylor Anderson was Greg’s co-counsel. Together they assisted each other in all manners of trial preparation and in the trial itself. At some point, I knew I needed to put forth the effort to introduce myself. Perhaps I’d attend one of their court appearances to watch the two of them in action. Greg talked quite a bit about Taylor. Taylor this ... or Taylor that, and so I knew he was really enjoying partnering with him. Though I knew little about Taylor, I knew he was married because Greg had mentioned once before about getting together and doing something as a foursome.

  Though I had hoped Greg really would only be a minute, he was taking longer than expected. Bored and irritated, I tried to remain calm by taking a few deep breaths and distracting myself by surveying the neighborhood. Looking up and down the street, I noted each house was a two-story brick, all with well-manicured lawns and colorful flower beds of begonias, petunias or periwinkles. Two of the neighbor’s automatic sprinklers were spraying and a trail of water was washing down the street and into a city guttering system. In another yard, someone was mowing their grass, the clippings being sucked into a bag on the side of the mower, each swipe causing the bag to puff out a little more. Across the street two boys were playing toss with a football, and three houses down a mother and father were laid back in two folding chairs watching a toddler on a tricycle.

  Taylor’s house, like the others, had a front-facing, two-car garage. Greg had trotted part way down the drive and then darted off on a cemented walkway up to the front porch. It was only a small, covered area, more like a stoop. Beside the front door there was a small statue of a boy holding a pot of ivy and next to it there was an evil-looking garden gnome.

  Staring at Taylor’s door, I willed it to open and for Greg to appear. “Come on Greg, time to go,” I muttered to myself. I forced my eyes to stop looking at my watch after thirty minutes had passed. So much for it only taking a moment.

  Ava was still asleep and though I hated leaving her alone in the car, I was heavily considering hopping out to check on how much longer it was going to be ... prod Greg along. For a moment I considered calling, texting, or even honking the horn. However, all seemed incredibly rude, and this wasn’t the first impression I wanted to make on Taylor. It crossed my mind to wake Ava and feign she woke up and I wanted to meet Taylor after all, simply to see if I could get Greg to speed up his exit. My eyes drifted back to Ava. She was in a deep sleep and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  Taylor’s door cracked open after another long twenty-one minutes and fourteen seconds. Yeah, my eyes became glued to my watch. For a moment or two, Greg stood in the doorway as if ending his discussion and then he backed up a few steps. The figure inside took a step or two, gravitating along with him. And that’s when I caught a glimpse of Taylor.

  “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, my eyes bulging out of my head. Taylor wasn’t a he. Taylor was a she.

  ◆◆◆

  Taylor, a unisex name. Still, how did I miss any specific references relating to male or female? Had I not been thoroughly listening to Greg when he discussed his partner? Partner. God now I hated that word. I couldn’t look away and I couldn’t get my eyes back in their sockets. She was one of those above-average beauties with a figure to die for. I was wearing jeans and a solid pink T-shirt with a pair of solid white trainers, now smudged with creek mud. Taylor, a name I now also hated, was wearing a cute little powder blue sundress and, even from a distance, I could tell she was all dolled-up, even wearing makeup, which I hadn’t bothered with, figuring it would slide off my face during a sunshiny day. Her hair was immaculately styled with thick, bouncy, blonde curls resting softly just past her shoulders. My hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail and I hadn’t washed it this morning. Thank God, I hadn’t gone in to meet her. She resembled a gorgeous Cover Girl and I looked frumpy by comparison, nothing but a dowdy housewife.

  For the briefest of moments, it looked like Taylor was going to follow Greg out to the car. In a panic, I let my head fall back on the headrest, turning away from the house. Better for me to pretend having fallen asleep than for her to come out and introduce herself. Rude. Yes. But no way, not right now. Not the way I looked after having crawled around in a creek all day. I needed to get my shit together, and fast, before my husband’s eyes began to rove.

  While I had planned on going home and getting into my comfies and plopping on the couch, I was thinking better of it. Perhaps I’d rifle through my drawers and pick out some of my better lounge wear. Heck, maybe I wouldn’t even change clothes. Better to have on what I was wearing, though my attire didn’t compare to the likes of hers. Did she always look as if she’d just stepped out of bandbox? Or did she do it knowing Greg was coming by? Wasn’t she married? What went on behind her closed door for fifty-one minutes and fourteen seconds? Was her husband inside and everything was simply casual? Or was it something more? How would it have been different if I’d gone inside? I’ll bet it would’ve speeded things up.

  Desperately I wanted to look back at her. See what was going on. Was there a wistful look in her eyes as she watched Greg heading for the car? Was she wanting to check me out as her competition? Or did she simply close the door and go back inside? It took everything to keep my head down and continue my fake sleeping. In the back of my mind, I wondered how large I was making a mountain out of a molehill. What if everything was copacetic and there wasn’t anything to worry myself about? Even so, tomorrow might be a good time for a thorough clean-out of my closet, accompanied by a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Perhaps it was time to schedule a beauty salon appointment. And maybe a trip to have my nails done too. I loved Greg and I wasn’t about to let a little competition get in the way. It was time to pull out the stops.

  When the car door opened, I made rousing movements like Greg had stirred me awake. I even went so far as to fake heavy eyelids and struggle to open them. For an added touch I rubbed at my eyes, like I’d already accumulated some grit.

  “Oh, good you’re back,” I said with a slow yawn.

  “Sorry, sorry. I know it took longer than I anticipated. Taylor briefed me on some of the finer points and, with a thorough reading of the file, I think I’ll be very prepared for tomorrow’s hearing.”

  Taylor, I noted he called her by name. After a few moments’ consideration, I believed I was correct in Greg having always referred to Taylor, as Taylor ... never a “she.” Was he doing it intentionally — always making a concerted effort at never giving away Taylor’s gender? Had he always skirted around her being a freaking gorgeous woman? Not that I’d ever been the jealous type, or at least I didn’t recall ever being one. But if I would’ve known my husband was spending his long days and late nights with a beautiful blonde, I would’ve stepped up meeting her.

  Swallowing hard, I tried getting a grip on my unhinged emotions. After all, Greg had suggested getting together, he’d mentioned Taylor being married, and he’d wanted to introduce me to her tonight. There
couldn’t be anything more going on than a working relationship. Right? I took in a calming breath and, in doing so, I breathed in a sickly smell of perfume emanating from my husband’s clothing. How close had they been inside? Really close? I’d never noticed a perfumed smell on him before. And let’s face it. They’d been together a lot. A whole lot. A damn lot. A whole damn lot.

  “I hope you didn’t interrupt Taylor’s evening?” I fished, trying to discern if her grooming efforts were meant only for Greg. I knew it wasn’t my habit to laze around on a Sunday afternoon in a sundress, makeup on, hair fixed, and perfumed up. Did she? Perhaps she had just returned from an event calling for her to don her best and spritz on a fragrance. Or maybe she was just leaving for a night out with friends.

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. Taylor only mentioned spending the day working on the case, trying to get all our ducks in a row ... even mentioned being ready to go to bed.”

  “I’ll bet,” I let fall out of my mouth before I could reel it back in, imagining she was subtly hinting for my husband to join her.

  “What do you mean by that?” He shot me an innocent look.

  “Nothing, just if Taylor worked all day on the case, Taylor was probably tired.” Had I ever referred to Taylor as a “he” and Greg never corrected me? Maybe I should test him.

  “Yeah, Taylor wanted to get in a good night’s rest. Be ready for tomorrow.”

  “Is he going to do the opening statements, or are you?”

  “I always do the opening statements. It’s something I’ll be working on tonight.” Greg gave a sheepish look. “Sorry, I don’t want our day to be over either. But I have to be ready for tomorrow morning.”

  I frowned. “I figured as much when you said you had to stop by and retrieve the file. You know Greg, this new job is taking up a lot more time than I imagined possible. Perhaps you shouldn’t always be lead counsel. Why don’t you alternate cases with Taylor? Let him shoulder some of the responsibility.”

  “Emily, you know being lead counsel merits a higher paycheck. Besides, once I’m more familiar with the role as a prosecutor, things will go more smoothly. As soon as I’m dialed in, it should afford me more family time. It’s only a matter of time. You’ll see. I promise.”

  Greg had been a trial lawyer with Blevins & Howard. He was exceedingly familiar in being a defense attorney. Of course, this was another reason he had gravitated toward the district attorney position, preferring to put the bad guys behind bars, as opposed to setting them free. However, it meant he was still learning the ins and outs at being on the other side of the fence. Honestly though, I imagined Greg was fantastic at his job already, but I knew he was still striving for his comfortable level.

  “It just seems to me you could learn by watching. Let Taylor show you the ropes instead of you having to handle so much of the burden. Doesn’t he want to split the responsibility anyway?”

  “Emily, I was hired on as lead counsel because of my previous experience in criminal law. I have more trial experience than Taylor, and certainly in criminal matters. Taylor was hired after me, and only had a civil practice background. That makes me the more qualified between the two of us. Besides, we do share the load. I do the opening and closing statements and handle most of the witnesses. Taylor’s incredible at cross-examinations and is a detailed note-taker at my side to keep me focused and on-point. We each have our jobs and we’re turning out to be a good fit for each other, which is something the District Attorney’s Office is looking for.”

  A good fit. I almost gagged. And thrice I had specifically referred to Taylor as being a male and Greg had failed to correct me on all three counts. Why the hell not? It’s no wonder I thought Taylor was a man. I’ve probably had dozens of conversations and not once has he pointed out my misconception.

  “I understand Greg. It’s just Ava and I miss you. We’d both like more days like today.” In the back of my mind, my head was thundering about him not correcting me on Taylor being a woman. Why was he misleading me? Now I wanted to meet her. The sooner, the better. “You know Greg, why don’t we go out to dinner with Taylor and his wife? You guys can talk business and I can get to know her. Maybe even make a friend. Since I’ve never met them, it’ll be a good way to break the ice.”

  Greg squirmed in his seat, still not correcting me. “Well, right now, they’re on the outs. Taylor was telling me they had a blow-up today because the in-laws are scheduled to come in this weekend for a week’s stay. They were just here for a week during Easter, and they spent three weeks at their house last Christmas. Taylor’s not looking forward to it and kind of blew a gasket. They’ve been going at it all day. Taylor was giving me an earful when the spouse came in and started hovering. We had to switch the conversation to work only. But once they’ve patched things up, I’ll ask about us getting together.”

  I noted how he referred to Taylor as Taylor, and the spouse as the spouse. No gender descriptive pronouns anywhere. Was that purposeful? Moreover, was he stalling? Or was I imagining it?

  ◆◆◆

  For the remainder of the ride home I zoned out and kept unusually quiet, doing nothing but staring out the car window. It bothered me to no end to think Greg was purposely misleading me about Taylor. For a long moment, I considered confronting him about his deception, wanting to hear whatever possible excuse he could come up with. But a couple of things stopped me. One, we’d had a wonderful day together and I simply didn’t want it ending with a fight. And, secondly, Ava was asleep in the backseat and I didn’t want to wake her up with any heated discussions. Greg and I generally got along amazingly well, but when it came to the occasional arguments, we made sure Ava wasn’t privy to them.

  The journey home dragged on, feeling longer than it was. When we finally arrived home, Greg carried Ava upstairs and I followed along behind him. She was filthy, having played in the dirt and climbed around on mucky things for most of the day. But I wasn’t about to wake her for a bath. Besides, she’d probably have trouble going back to sleep if I did. Ava could be rambunctious, especially after a good nap. Greg needed the house to be quiet in order to organize his thoughts and prepare his opening statement.

  Entering her mostly pink room, I turned down the pink princess bed sheets under her white-canopied bed and Greg slid her in and covered her up. With a tender kiss on the forehead from both of us, and after tucking her stuffed bear beside her, we tiptoed out and closed the door behind us.

  I had carried in a load from the car and set it by the front door. Greg went out to bring in the rest. Once we cleared the car, I began packing things away and washing things up while Greg trailed off to the study to complete his work.

  Since it was a little before bedtime, I put a load of clothes in the washer and folded a load of towels from the dryer. Like so many things in this house, my laundry room was a pain in the butt. It was located downstairs between the kitchen and the garage which meant I had to carry the towels though the house and up the stairs to our communal bathroom. With a handful stacked high in my hands, I made the journey and deposited them into the linen closet next to the bathtub. Like every room in this house, it too was in dire need of an update. With Greg’s new job, it had been our goal to do some remodeling, at least a little here and there as time went by. But ever since realizing Taylor was female and Greg was purposely deceiving me about it, I wondered if his new job and this new partner were worth the increased wages, or the potential renovations.

  After arranging the towels, I peeked in Ava’s room. Ava was afraid of the dark and we always kept her closet door cracked a little with the light on while she was sleeping. From the dim glow across the room, I could see she was sound asleep with her tiny hands tucked under her chin and her favorite teddy bear nestled next to her. Her sandy blonde hair was splayed out on the pillow behind her, and she looked like an angel without a care in the world. It was exactly how I wanted her childhood to be. Innocent and playful. And carefree. Again, my mind drifted back to Taylor and it worried me what impact she co
uld potentially have on our perfect little family. Ava was a daddy’s girl through and through. Her heart would break apart if mine and Greg’s marriage was on a downhill slide.

  While the washing machine was still doing its thing, I returned to the bathroom and prepared for bed. After toeing off my trainers, I pulled the solid pink T-shirt over my head and dropped it in the dirty laundry basket. Next, I wriggled out of my jeans and tossed them on top of the T-shirt. Standing in only my bra and panties, I took a good look at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. My figure wasn’t model-perfect, but it was something I considered still eye-catching. I wondered if I needed to be working out, firming up. If there was anything possible to keep myself from being replaced, I certainly wanted to give it my best shot.

  After washing my face and applying a generous layer of moisturizer I returned to our bedroom. For a moment, I imagined Taylor getting ready for bed and pictured her dressed in sexy lingerie, a come-hither look all over her pretty face. Staring down at my shiny diamond wedding ring, I silently vowed I wasn’t about to let her sink her claws into my man. I just wasn’t. If there was a smidgen of a chance to salvage my marriage — one I didn’t realize might be in jeopardy — then it was worth a shot. Going through the drawers, I pulled out one of my sexier gowns — not that I had more than two or three. Adjusting it over my boobs and slipping into a heeled pair of pink fluffy house shoes — a recent Mother’s Day gift from Ava via Greg — I navigated the stairs in the completely impractical footwear to switch the laundry over to the dryer.

  Back in the kitchen, I prepared myself some chamomile tea and made Greg a cup of strong coffee. With a cup in each hand, I headed to Greg’s study and pushed his door open using my hip. “Care for something to keep you awake?” I asked holding up the coffee.