Chapter 7 - Holly Snow
T he horrid buzz of my alarm sounds. I pound on the screen of my phone, finding the snooze, then drop back onto my empty bed. I’d thought of asking Kristian to stay, but he’d made the decision for both of us before I had the chance. Somehow knowing it would be awkward, and I wouldn’t want to be the one to kick him out, he left. Instead, we both agreed we had things to do today and we could meet up later.
After exchanging numbers, and some serious making out, I was given strict instructions to not leave the hotel and head home without first checking the roads and the weather, and saying goodbye to him. The latter is something I would have never thought of not doing, even without his telling me to.
Sticking around here though will depend entirely on what Andre has to say.
I toss back the covers, force myself off the bed, and make my way to the bathroom.
The woman staring back in the mirror is unrecognizable. With disheveled hair and racoon eyes from smudged black mascara, I’m surprised Kristian didn’t run for the hills.
Images from a porn video I’d seen once, where the girl had been used up and was waiting for the guy to come in her mouth, pop into my head. And I wonder if that’s what I must’ve looked like last night. Tracing my fingers over my swollen lips, I grin at the thought.
“Holly Snow. Porn star with a scar.” Lack of sleep has obviously made me delirious.
Glancing around the bathroom, I realize I have absolutely nothing here.
No toothbrush, comb, clean pair of underwear... nothing.
I’ll have to settle for just a washcloth and the tiny bar of soap on the counter. Forgoing a shower since my hair will be unmanageable without something to take the tangles out.
Once I’ve freshened up, I open the curtains and am immediately blinded by the sun reflecting off the falling snow. It was expected to let up some time this morning. And I’m hopeful it will, but the way it looks now, I don’t have high expectations that will happen.
What are you going to do if it doesn’t? I ask myself. I think about the fact I hadn’t planned on getting stuck here, when everything I do is normally planned right down to the very last detail.
Grabbing my key card and purse off the hotel room dresser, I head out the door, mentally armed and ready to give whomever a piece of my mind.
I’m both happy and a bit disappointed the elevator is empty when I enter. Glad the creepy guy from last night isn’t here, but also sad there’s not a specific man waiting to assault me with his lips. Instead, I’m greeted with the tune of “...sleigh bells ring, are you listening?”
It’s a bit ironic his choice of words, you little slut , given it didn’t take long for me to drag him to my room. But after spending some time with him, it just felt right. He felt so right.
A chuckle rumbles my chest at how good he felt as I step off the elevator.
Rounding the corner, the spirit of Christmas smacks me right in the face, literally.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Pardon me,” a man carrying a tree that’s much too big for one person apologizes.
“Mmm-hmm.” is all I can manage, not wanting to start up a conversation on a topic I’m not one bit interested in. Plus, I’m on a mission to raise hell.
When I approach the counter, the same man from yesterday is there, looking a bit worn down. Surely, he hasn’t been there all night. Not your problem if he was. You’re not here to see him anyway.
There’s a line of people waiting to check in and I take my place at the back. The extra time allows me the opportunity to take in more of the massive but beautiful lobby now that I have time.
A nearly life-sized gingerbread house, sitting on a rotating platform in a large open space to the right, drops my jaw. I’ve no idea how I could’ve missed it last night, especially with all the lights wrapped on and around it. So many that I’d guess when lit up it’s a replica of the Christmas Vacation house. But I’m not stepping out of line to go read the plaque in front of it. Nor am I wedging my way between the kids currently reaching their arms out to try and pick what appears to be real candy off the sides.
Whoever set it up was smart to add the picket fence because it’s doing a good job of keeping those sticky hands from touching.
The entire setup is adorable and makes my heart ache all at the same time.
I really want to enjoy this time of year again. Maybe one day. Just not today.
Looking around the rest of the lobby, the crowd isn’t any smaller than it was when I was forced to check in, if anything, there’s even more people who’ve come in from out in the cold.
Slipping my phone from my purse, I check the weather. “Snow is expected for the next six hours,” I say a little too loud.
The people in line in front of me give me a strange look and I give them a sneer in return, Kristian’s words, you little bitch , echo in my head. Although they fit my attitude now, the reason he said them has my lips curving into a grin.
I’m already missing his bossy demeanor and can’t wait to get this over with so I can go hunt him down.
When a new clerk steps up to the counter, the line splits off and I’m about two families away from making my best friend the happiest bride-to-be in history.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Bridgett: Do not get arrested
Me: Get out of my head
Bridgett: lol
Bridgett: You didn’t text me last night
Bridgett: Did you get it on with bossy Santa?
My breath catches at her last message. If I didn’t know she came from her actual parents I’d think she was my twin.
“I can help who’s next?” A masculine voice calls out.
Me: Can’t talk now
Me: Will let you know how it goes
Bridgett: WTF
Bridgett: I WANT DETAILS
Bridgett: Don't you dare leave me hanging
Bridgett: HOLLY!
When my phone rings and her name pops up on the screen, I ignore it and drop it back in my purse. She’s going to kill me but if she wants this damn ballroom, she’ll have to wait.
“Ma’am, can I help you? You’re holding up the line.” The annoyance in his tone is palpable.
When I approach the desk and meet his tired stare, he lets out a long breath. “Oh, it’s you. Come with me,” he says, making his way to the edge of the counter.
I hesitate, looking around and wondering if going with him is normal.
“There’s an office around the corner,” he says dryly. “Andre told me to have you call him when you showed up to the desk.”
My stomach twists, that doesn’t sound good.
We turn the corner and enter the first room on the left. “Have a seat”
I do. He does the same but on the opposite side of a desk. Taking a closer look at the man, I feel a bit guilty at how I’ve behaved toward him. He really does look as though he’s been through the wringer. Considering the chaos of the holidays and dealing with those getting out of the winter storm, he probably has. I don’t plan on adding to that frustration. I’m saving my own frustrations for someone who truly deserves it.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he places a desk phone on speaker, types out a number, and places it in front of me. Once it connects, a ring echoes through the room.
“This is Andre.”
“Hey, Andre, Aaron here. I have Ms. Snow with me. She’s looking to speak with someone with more authority than myself about the ballroom.”
A throat clears in a “watch it” tone from the other end of the line. “Thank you, Aaron. You can take your lunch break now.”
“Yes, sir.”
At that, Aaron leaves the room, and I feel even more guilty. None of this is his fault.
“Ms. Snow. I apologize for Aaron, as you can imagine it’s been a busy couple of days.”
I glance toward the door. “It’s no problem, I understand.”
“And we appreciate that. But I know that’s not what you’re here for.”
“You’re right, it’s not. I need an explanation, Andre. I rushed over here in the small time window you’d given and you weren’t even here. Aaron had to deliver the news. I understand there’s a storm and all, but had you picked up the phone—like we’re doing now—this could’ve been resolved, and I could be stranded at home instead of here.”
I added that last part for effect. Getting snowed in at the same hotel as Kristian Krengel will be one night I’ll probably never forget.
“You’re right. And I hope the staff is taking good care of you. Unfortunately...”
My heart sinks. Bridgett is going to be so disappointed. I take a deep breath and let it out. I’m not giving up that easily. “Before you finish that sentence, do you know who you’re inconveniencing? Have you even bothered to ask, once, who the clients I’m trying to plan the wedding for?”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t, but—”
“Well, let me tell you.” I stand and begin pacing around the office. “The bride-to-be is none other than the Bridgett Barnes, a New York fashion designer who’s been on the top five hundred list more than once. And the groom-to-be, you’ve probably seen him in the news recently for performing a life-saving heart transplant surgery, Dr. Sebastian Bell. Who just so happens to be attending the medical conference here, in your facility. So you may want to take some time and think about it before you tell me your ballrooms are completely booked on Christmas Day.” I take in a long breath and drop back into the seat, waiting for his answer.
“I’m truly sorry, but the snowstorm has put us on a limited staff and it wouldn’t be feasible for us to set up, cater and tear down an event of that size in another room.”
“So you don’t have any problem with doing all that for the wedding that pulled the room I’d reserved right out from under me, is that right?”
“Unfortunately, my hands are tied.”
Out of frustration, I stand and lean over the phone so he can hear me loud and clear. “You can bet, I’ll not be booking any future events here. And I do plan a lot of events, Andre. For some very successful people. I hope you can still find a way to have a Merry Christmas.”
My holiday wishes lacked the joy, peace, and love someone else might mean when saying those two words, mine were said with all the sarcasm I could muster. I stab the speaker button, ending the call.
The constant vibration coming from my purse would seem like I’d brought BOB from home. Bridgett is persistent. If I answer, I’ll be delivering the bad news before I’ve had the chance to figure out an alternative. But if I don’t, she’ll think I’m on the way to the police station.
Retrieving my phone from my purse, I tap the screen, and place it to my ear.
“I’m not your one phone call, am I?”
“If you were, I wouldn’t be answering, you would,” I reply, exiting the office and making my way back through the lobby.
“So you were paying attention.” Her tone is light and airy, dragging my mood down further because of the news I have to deliver.
“Bridgett...” I start.
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound good. I think I can guess what you’re about to say, so instead of saying it... tell me about bossy Santa.”
Revisiting last night in my mind, I try to think of anything we’d done I’m willing to share. “He kissed me.”
She blows out a breath. “Really, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say? At least give me a little something more.”
I press the up arrow on the elevator and lean against the opposite wall, out of earshot, while I wait for the ding. “It was fucking amazing. If I thought he was bossy outside of the bedroom... well, you get the picture.”
“There are many pictures floating around in my mind, but since you’re not giving me much to go on, it’s difficult to paint.” She laughs. “When Sebastian and I get there in a couple of days. We’re sitting down and you’re telling me everything.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And, Bridgett—”
She cuts in, “Holly, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out. It’s not the end of the world.”
But it is, at least to me. If I can’t even make my best friend's wedding work, then how am I supposed to plan weddings for others?