Chapter Four
T elfer put more thought than he needed into navigating the spiral staircase to the second floor, the better to forget the moment where he’d nearly kissed Laodice’s parted lips. It had been a momentary impulse, brought on by the cover story and their proximity, but they should certainly speak about what gestures would be appropriate first. As it was, he could still feel her skin against his own lips, tingling from that momentary contact with her brow.
The Burlesque Fantasy suite was at the end of the long second-floor hallway where the guests were housed. He passed a series of discreet brass plaques on doors—Nymph’s Grotto, Evening Dream, Sleep Among The Stars—until he found their room and put the brass key in the lock.
His first impression was red with a touch of gold. His shoes sank noiselessly into the thick crimson carpet, and the walls were covered in a red and gold damask print. Fringed velvet drapes of deep scarlet descended from brass curtain rods. The dressing table was a faux-antique, with a gold-framed mirror outlined with lights; presumably a gesture towards a burlesque show backstage. The bed was covered in a silky red coverlet and an excessive number of feathery cushions, and was actually mounted on a little stage of its own. Here, it seemed to proclaim, with a wink and a grin, was where the real show was set.
Luckily, the bed was also enormous. He and Laodice would be able to keep to their own sides without disturbing the other.
After a moment’s thought, he grabbed his laptop, kicked off his shoes and sat on the right side of the bed, tacitly claiming it. A gentleman would probably wait to ask Laodice which side she preferred, but she wasn’t here and he wasn’t a gentleman.
Fortunately, he made a practice of downloading work to his laptop, so he didn’t need an internet connection yet. Half an hour later, he’d re-written three vendor press releases into actual stories, and was deep into the fourth when Laodice opened the door.
She stood in the middle of the doorway, and took in the room, her mouth slightly open and her eyes bright. “Wow,” she said, and laughed. “This is a lot. I love it.”
Telfer, with some effort, remembered he was annoyed with her. “You knew about the phone thing, I assume.”
Her grin widened, and she pulled the door shut. “Didn’t you read the brochure?”
He’d skimmed it, several months ago. “How do you propose to work without internet access?”
For answer, Laodice hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and threw it open, rummaging around the contents. Telfer caught a glimpse of hot pink ruffles and something silky and black. She plucked a phone from the pile of dainty things and brandished it at him. “Mobile data hotspot, at your service. Well, at my service.” She shook her head. “I’m glad Sarah told me someone would unpack our bags for us. Gave me a chance to tell her not to.”
Telfer grimaced. “Are you going to let me use it too?” He’d told Miriam he’d be working remotely this week. Without a hotspot, that would be impossible.
“Maybe. If you’re nice to me.” She looked pointedly at his laptop. “Besides, I thought you were on leave.”
Telfer grunted. “Loose ends. Future project planning.” Many deadlines for Wednesday. He could just tell Laodice that he planned to work remotely. He’d lied to make sure she’d bring him along, and she could hardly dump him now. But he didn’t want to let her know about a vulnerability. She already knew where most of his soft spots were.
“Not going to give up your laptop, like Erik?” She sat down on the bed and bounced experimentally. The dress ruffles fluttered over her breasts. “Good mattress.”
“I should hope so, considering what everyone else is paying for this experience.” Telfer considered her for a moment. She wasn’t slurring her words, but her motions were more exuberant than usual. “Are you drunk?”
“Just fuzzy,” she said. “Kyle kept refilling.”
“I noticed.”
“Yvette and I got some water into Hazel, but I think she’s going to have a rough morning.”
“Which one was Hazel?”
“The little brunette. Jesse’s fiancée.”
“So the tall brunette who tried to insult your dress is Yvette?”
Laodice yawned. “You caught that, huh?”
“I thought you handled it well. She certainly wants to be your friend now.”
“Speaking of friends. That Carrick guy. Is he likely to be a problem?”
“I doubt it.”
“Frat brother?”
“I wasn’t in a fraternity.” Telfer tapped out another line on the story—ideal baths for your wedding night, which reminded him he hadn’t looked in the bathroom yet—and looked up when he realized that Laodice hadn’t responded. She was staring at him. “What?”
“I don’t know. I always assumed you were a frat guy.”
“Well, I wasn’t. Carrick and I met in an ECON 101 study group, who sometimes hung out socially. We were friendly, not close friends.”
“Good thing he spotted you before you gave the wrong name. Still, what were the odds of someone you know being here?”
“You like statistics. What’s the likelihood of being struck by lightning?”
“About 1 in 15000, over a lifetime,” Laodice said.
Telfer blinked. “Really? I would have thought it would be much less likely than that.”
“That’s the average. Your personal odds change depending on where you live, how risk-averse you are, and so on.” She grinned at him. “It’s your bad luck you’re so memorable. I’ve had actual conversations with Xavier and Hazel before, and there wasn’t a flicker of recognition.”
“You’re memorable,” Telfer said, without thinking.
Laodice batted her eyelashes at him. “Aw, Telfer, I didn’t know you cared.”
Telfer shifted irritably. “That’s another statement of fact, not a compliment.”
“So, factually, I am both loud and memorable.” She thought about it for a second. “I’ll take it. Passcode is 6511.” She tossed him the phone and he caught it one-handed. “See what you get when you’re nice to me?”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Telfer said. His mouth was unaccountably dry.
There was a light tap on the door, and he slid the cellphone under a pillow. Laodice gave him a thumbs up, and then opened the door.
“Oh, hi, Alma. No, it’s fine, come on in.”
“I thought I could take a look at your cheek,” Alma said. She was holding a small first-aid kit in one hand. She looked around the room. “Wow, they weren’t kidding on the burlesque one, huh?”
“Yep! What’s yours?”
“Evening Dream,” Alma said. “Dark blue silk and gold stars on the ceiling. Sarah said we could have our pick, since we were first. Erik loves the night sky.”
“Telfer loves burlesque,” Laodice said, sliding him a sly look.
“I do,” he said. “It’s an intriguing art form, melding performance and desire.”
Laodice blinked, but Alma smiled at him. “I think it’s a lot of fun too.” She sat Laodice down in an armchair. Telfer watched her for a moment, but she seemed steady and sober, and her manner was professional as she put on gloves, peeled back the butterfly strips and took a look at the wound.
“What did this?”
“Dropped a plate,” Laodice said easily. “A shard must have hit me. I didn’t even notice until Telfer took care of it.”
“You did a good job,” Alma told him, and carefully smeared a salve over the cut. “It’s looking a little red, but this should take care of that.” She cut new butterfly strips and stuck them on, then sat back.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Actually, I was glad of the excuse. Sarah came up to take Erik’s laptop and ‘check that everything was all right,’ and I didn’t really want to stick around and watch her flirt with my fiancé.” She caught Telfer’s look and shook her head. “It happens all the time. Sometimes I run interference for him, but he’s trying to get better at handling it himself.”
“That must be awkward,” Laodice said, her voice warm.
Alma laughed. “I don’t mind when people look. But if she keeps acting with intent, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Then I will continue to look,” Laodice said cheerfully, and when Telfer coughed, she grinned at him. “What? I love you, but I have eyes.”
Telfer felt his entire face go hot. “I, um,” he said, grabbed his suitcase, and fled to the bathroom.
The bathroom was easily half the size of the bedroom, and possibly even more lavish. The dual sinks were carved out of smooth black stone, and the shower had a built-in bench and three showerheads, including a wide one that looked like a shelf, probably meant to imitate a waterfall. Red and black towels, check, huge mirror outlined with lights, check, and a commode that was almost disappointingly normal, although it was also red.
And then there was the spa tub, filled, hot and waiting for them. The rim was outlined in pink neon lights, flashing in a gentle rhythm, and an array of scents and lotions were lined up on a black tray table.
It was also the shape of a heart.
There were some oddly shaped handles in various places, and Telfer wondered why, and then processed that if Laodice was half-submerged there and he was bracing himself there , he’d be able to—
He clenched his fists, willing the blood rushing to his groin into his hands instead, but it was no use, he was imagining the water surging around and over her body, her skin glistening, a fierce look in her eyes as she urged him to join her—
Someone knocked twice on the bathroom door, and he literally jumped.
“She’s gone,” Laodice said. “Are you going to be long in there?”
“Ten minutes,” Telfer said. His heart was thumping, but it was at least equal parts shock and lust now. He’d been right on the verge of indulging himself, and that was not an appropriate reaction to a woman who was his coworker, beside whom he was going to sleep that night. For seven nights.
She wasn’t his to touch, not even in his imagination.
He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and contemplated his nightwear options. He saved his clothing budget for the clothes others saw. The pajama pants and old college shirt he’d packed had been washed so many times that they were butter soft and spectacularly comfortable, but they were also shabby and threadbare. The ribbed neck of the shirt had been pulled out of alignment and parts of it were almost transparent; the loose-fitting pants hung low on his hips.
Well, it was the best he could do. It wasn’t as if he needed or wanted to impress Laodice anyway.
She was sitting on her side of the bed, but jumped to her feet when he came out. He saw her take in what he was wearing and pause, but then she went on: “Hey, sorry about saying I love you. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She was obviously sincere, which only increased his embarrassment. They were pretending to be engaged; of course he should have anticipated love talk.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said brusquely.
“We should set up some ground rules,” she suggested. “But after I pee, because I’m dying.”
“Unnecessary information,” he said, but it was to the bathroom door, closing behind her. He heard her yelp, and then laugh.
“This bath!” she called.
“I know,” he called back, and retrieved the burner phone. Setting up the mobile hot spot took no time. He added a description of their bath to the list under a heading of “The Weird and Wonderful,” and left a square bracket note reminding himself to add mentions of various advertiser products. Then he uploaded everything to the Olympus servers, feeling better that the drafts were no longer just on his workstation.
After a moment, he pulled up his personal cloud drive, and went searching for a picture of their engagement ring.
Laodice came out in what looked like yoga pants and a loose T-shirt, the hotel robe wrapped securely around her. In keeping with the theme, it was deep red velvet with a wide collar of black feathers. It didn’t really fit her frame, straining over her abundant curves, but at least the feathers did some work to disguise what he suspected was a lot of motion under that shirt.
“So, ground rules,” she said, and he swung the laptop around.
“This is your ring,” he said. “In case it comes up.”
Laodice sat on the end of the bed and looked at the picture. “That’s gorgeous. Is it really your grandmother’s ring?”
“Yes. Her mother made her take it from the old country when she emigrated in the 60s.”
“Where’s the old country?”
“Turkey. Her son was my dad, and she gave him the ring to propose to my mom.”
“That’s so romantic,” Laodice said, and then glanced ruefully at her broad hands. “Well, no one will disbelieve the resizing story. Hey, uh, about your parents…”
“We should discuss those ground rules,” Telfer said.
“Right. How much touching and cutesy stuff is okay? We need to make it look real, but I don’t want to cross any boundaries.” She considered him, her face unusually serious. “Plus, it doesn’t look that realistic when you literally run away from me.”
“What did you tell Alma?”
“That you’re shy. So act shy.”
“Right,” Telfer said. “I’ll do my best. I was taken aback because I didn’t expect it. You can say that you love me again, now that I know it’s on the table. I’ll say it too. I think hand-holding, hugs, light touches—that sort of thing is all right. Was it okay that I kissed your forehead?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, so let’s say cheeks and so on are fair game.”
“But not lips?”
Telfer’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’d rather not.”
To his relief, Laodice accepted that without further question. “Got it. I think all of that will be fine. Not every couple is super demonstrative in public.”
Telfer nodded. “I find performative emotion off-putting.”
“Of course you do,” Laodice said, but without any real bite. “Okay. Anything else? I wouldn’t mind an early night.”
Telfer looked at her. “I don’t recall much about the program. Are there any more unpleasant surprises, like the phones?”
“I’m not sure,” Laodice said. “The program wasn’t super explicit. We have group activities and couple activities. There’s some stuff like cocktail mixing and dance lessons that I think they’ll be bringing outside vendors in for.”
“That’s my part of the deal,” Telfer said. “I want those contacts.”
“There’s also mindful meditation and soul connection therapy—new agey manifestation stuff. And some blocks on the draft I saw were TBC. I think we’re basically just supposed to show up to everything, when we’re told to.” She yawned. “Breakfast is at 6:30. I guess we find out about the rest of the day then.”
Telfer went to check the time on his phone, and realized he couldn’t. “How are we supposed to wake up on time without alarms?”
“I didn’t think of that,” Laodice admitted, and scanned the room. “No alarm clock. I could set something on the burner, but maybe we should see what happens? I wonder if Halcyon didn’t think of it either.”
“A mystery,” Telfer said. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He put his laptop away and gave Laodice back her phone, then slid between the sheets. High thread count, soft and smooth. He rolled onto his side and nestled his face into the most comfortable pillow he’d ever had, while Laodice completed her preparations for the night and turned out the lights.
He’d expected to have a period of awkward wakefulness, with the weight and warmth of her body beside his. But the mattress was perfect, and the darkness was complete, and he fell asleep so swiftly that he didn’t notice the transition at all.
***
Laodice was in a long passage, and there was something at the end of it she really wanted, but the closer she got, the longer the passage became. Telfer was walking beside her in his scandalously thin pajamas, his face serious.
“Can’t you go any faster?” he asked, and then the end of the passage glowed with soft yellow light and a melody of gentle chimes suffused the air, starting quiet and then becoming louder and louder.
“Is that the light at the end of the tunnel?” Laodice asked, curious, but unafraid. “Telfer, are we dying?”
“Good morning, lovebirds,” Sarah’s voice said sweetly, and Laodice groaned and rose out of the dream, groggily hugging her pillow. Sarah’s voice wasn’t any part of her idea of heaven. “It’s 6 a.m. and it’s time to rise and shine. Shake off that peaceful slumber and join us in the Main Gallery for breakfast.”
Laodice cracked an eyelid open. Sarah wasn’t in the room; only her voice, emanating from a hidden speaker somewhere. Laodice hadn’t dreamed the lights, either. They were glowing around the room, increasing in intensity even as she squinted at them. Some kind of sunrise effect, probably designed to stimulate the transition from delta waves to theta waves, or some such crap.
Laodice had never claimed to be a morning person. She turned her face into the pillow, blocking out the light.
Telfer sat up. “Are you awake?”
“No,” Laodice said, her voice muffled. Telfer had gone straight to sleep last night, almost before she’d turned out the lights. It was pretty cute, actually. She hadn’t been so lucky; the dregs of champagne and adrenaline from the busy day had keep her exhausted, but awake. In the end she’d taken a sleeping pill and let that drag her under, but she was paying for it now.
“Come on,” Telfer said, and when she didn’t move or respond, he touched her shoulder tentatively. “I’ll let you have first shot at the bathroom.”
“Oh, fuck,” Laodice said, and threw back the covers. “My hair.”
“I’m missing something,” Telfer said, watching her race around the room with some bewilderment.
“I need to wash it and it takes forever ,” Laodice snarled. She reigned in her temper with some effort. It wasn’t Telfer’s fault she hadn’t taken care of the matter last night. She should have set that alarm on the burner and warned him she was a demon hellbeast first thing in the morning. “Can you be fast with whatever you need to do?”
“Sure,” he said, and went straight to the bathroom while she gathered her clothes and toiletries. A few minutes later, he emerged. “I showered last night, and I’ll dress out here.”
“ Thank you,” Laodice said, really meaning it, and dove for the shower.
There was no time to indulge herself with the more luxurious settings. She scrubbed down fast, wincing as she gingerly patted the cut on her cheek. Even moving as fast as she could, her hair demanded time. It was her best feature, long, shiny and healthy, with a natural bouncy wave she’d been styling since she was a teenager. At times like this, though, the temptation to imitate Cassie’s sensible jaw-length bob was strong.
She’d have to skip the curlers. The retreat hairdryer was impressive, a top-of-the-line professional model with a powerful engine. Even so, she could feel the minutes slipping away as she worked the nozzle under her layers and finger-styled her waves.
“Can I get a time check?” she called through the door.
“Seven minutes to go.”
Shit, and she was still naked. She scrambled into her underwear and bike shorts, and then shimmied into a light linen dress with bouncy off-the-shoulder bishop sleeves. Lipstick and mascara were all the makeup she had time for. A messy half-updo would work for the hair. She twisted and pinned big loops across the crown of her head, leaving the rest long and loose at the back. Some of the strands were still damp, but no longer dripping, and that would have to do. She plucked a few tendrils forward to frame her face, blew a kiss in the mirror, and left the bathroom.
Telfer was standing there with the burner in his hand, fully dressed in formal slacks and a white button up. At least he’d left the top buttons undone, and hadn’t added a tie or jacket.
“You look nice,” he said, which would have been fine, but he sounded surprised, which wasn’t.
Laodice shot him a dark look and went looking for her sandals. They were top quality with an impressive name, sure to pass Yvette’s label check. The semi-annual Wardrobe clear-outs didn’t have many clothes in her size, so she always made a beeline for the accessories.
“I meant, with the time you had,” Telfer said, and then he coughed. “I thought we should take the phone with us. In case Housekeeping finds it.”
“You think?” Laodice said, sounding too sarcastic even to herself. She buckled her sandals and stood. “Sorry. I mean, good idea. I’m not great in the mornings. Can you hang onto the phone? There are no pockets in this dress.”
She went for the door, and Telfer caught her wrist.
It was a light grip, his long fingers careful on her skin, and he released her the second she stopped.
“We should maybe be a few minutes late,” he suggested. “If we keep perfect time, Sarah might wonder how.”
“Right.” Laodice shifted her weight. “So, uh, tell me about your hobbies. You know about me and the car. I also knit sometimes, and I collect ceramics.”
“I play golf occasionally.”
Of course he did. “Anything else?”
“I listen to podcasts.”
Laodice gave herself a point for not rolling her eyes. Finance bros and their finance podcasts. Eli had been forever enthusing about the latest tip to maximize productivity and minimize risk. “Okay, so I’ll make a girlfriendly complaint that sometimes you listen to your earbuds more than me.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Telfer said, sounding insulted.
“ Cover story , Telfer,” Laodice said, and decided they were now fashionably late enough. She opened the hallway door, just as Sarah’s voice came through the speakers, informing the guests that now was the time to head down for breakfast.
Alma and Erik were coming out of the door across the hall, both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, and looking a little rumpled. Erik looked good rumpled. Laodice suspected that Erik would look good covered in mud and wearing an old potato sack.
“Good morning,” Alma said, on a yawn she covered with one hand. The other was holding Erik’s, because they were adorable.
Laodice reached for Telfer’s hand, and he grabbed it with no hesitation, long fingers twining with hers. Laodice had held a lot of hands. Telfer, she was prepared to admit, was decent at it—dry skin, firm grip. Loose wrist, not holding her clamped to his side. Top fifteen percent of hand-holders, definitely.
Did Telfer have a lot of hand-holding practice? Presumably he didn’t have a partner right now, or he wouldn’t have offered to accompany Laodice at the last minute, even in pursuit of a really good story. She couldn’t recall him ever mentioning a partner at all, although it was becoming clear to her how little she’d engaged in more than necessary conversation with the guy.
She could have recited the romantic history of most of her co-workers from memory, but Telfer’s was a complete blank. Maybe he didn’t mix his work and personal life. Maybe he was asexual, or aromantic, or some combination along that spectrum. Carrick hadn’t seemed to be surprised that he was here, engaged to a woman, but people didn’t necessarily disclose their complete selves to their college study buddies.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing that Alma had asked her a question. “I didn’t hear that. I was deep in my own head.”
“Elle prefers later mornings,” Telfer said. He actually sounded affectionate. Maybe he was a better actor than she’d thought.
“Me too,” Erik mumbled.
“I asked how you got so much volume in your hair,” Alma said. “Obviously yours is thicker than mine, but it’s so bouncy .”
“Oh!” Laodice said, and was partway through a step-by-step explanation of her routine when Xavier and Yvette stepped out of the last door to the left on their corridor. The door opposite remained firmly closed, but Laodice could hear muffled voices from within.
Yvette was impeccable in an ice-blue sheath dress that cut off at mid-thigh. The dress exposed her sculpted arms, long, toned legs, and a pair of tan heeled brogues that Laodice immediately coveted. Her hair was straight and shiny, her subtle makeup was flawless, and she was absolutely scanning the other women to see if they looked better than her.
Apparently satisfied with the answer she came up with, she smiled brightly at Laodice. “Great dress. Sumeria, right?”
“Right,” Laodice said. Sumeria was one of Xena’s sponsors. On camera, she typically wore their athleisure wear lines, but they’d thrown the dress in as well, and Xena had donated it to the ‘Make Laodice look rich’ campaign.
“I love how they have an expanded size range. So inclusive!”
“Yep,” Laodice said. “Well, you two look great, especially for this early.”
“Normally I’d have been at the office an hour ago,” Xavier said, looking at her with mild contempt. He was wearing pretty much what Telfer was, except his unbuttoned-at-the-throat shirt was the same pale blue as Yvette’s dress. Had they matched on purpose?
“So you actually got to sleep in?” Telfer said heartily. “Great start to a vacation.”
“This isn’t a vacation ,” Yvette said. “We’re honing our ability to connect and communicate and developing our relationship skills to maximize nuptial bliss.”
Holy shit . It was a direct quote from the brochure, and Yvette’s face was absolutely sincere. Maybe Miriam—and Telfer—were right. If Halcyon could convince people like Yvette that they’d maximize bliss with this thing, they’d be raking in the cash from ultra-competitive alpha girls.
In the silence that had greeted Yvette’s pronouncement, the raised voice from behind the closed door became much louder.
“—embarrassing me!” a male voice shouted. “No, you know what, you’re just embarrassing . Look at you!”
A softer voice, inaudible, then the shouting again, cutting over it. “I don’t give a rat’s ass! Stop being such a stupid bitch, get your shit together and get down there.” The voice got louder on the last words, and Laodice jerked back as she realized what that meant.
Jesse jerked the door open, his face a snarling mask of fury. He saw the inadvertent audience and hesitated, then bared his teeth in a wide grin. His eyes didn’t change—flat and black and angry—and the rictus smile made things worse. Laodice felt the hairs rise on her arms and neck.
“Hazel’s not coming down yet,” he said, striving for jovial and sounding flat instead. “She’s not feeling well.”
“I could go and see her,” Alma offered quietly.
“No, no, she needs a few minutes to let the painkillers kick in,” Jesse said, and closed the door behind him with exaggerated care.
Yvette was looking at him with such loathing that Laodice was surprised he didn’t spontaneously combust.
Jesse led them down the stairs, determinedly talking about the weather and pretending that they hadn’t all heard what they’d heard. Erik responded politely, but Telfer was still and silent beside her, and Xavier and Yvette had dropped behind, talking quietly to each other.
Asshole, Laodice thought, and resolved to check on Hazel later.