Chapter Seven
T elfer usually either ignored or didn’t notice disapproval from others, but there was no escaping the looks he was getting as they all left the dance class. Frankly, he deserved it. Laodice had danced with Richie—who was a far better match for her grace—and Telfer had spent the rest of the lesson castigating himself for being an idiot.
The problem wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to dance with Laodice. The problem was that he’d wanted it too much . Laodice was fun to look at even when she was standing still, but her body in motion was all vibrant beauty. In the warm-ups, she’d bounced and whirled, her hair flying around her shoulders and that damn jeweled clip twinkling at him.
He’d been relieved when they had to dance with others, and a split-second later, he’d been consumed with envy for all the men who’d been able to hold her in that close embrace. He’d even been envious of Patrick. And then they’d come back together at last, and it was his turn to hold her.
He’d steeled himself. He’d reminded himself that she didn’t like him, she certainly didn’t want him… And then she’d looked at him. He’d seen her pupils dilate, felt her breathing pick up, and it had been like jumping off a cliff into a dark pool.
Telfer didn’t know if the water would welcome him, or if there were rocks beneath the surface.
So he’d stepped back from the edge, unwilling to risk…he wasn’t sure what. Something. Laodice’s good opinion, perhaps, which was becoming oddly more valuable as the days progressed. And what a great job he’d done of that, embarrassing her in front of the others, with his stupid fake ankle injury and his ridiculous false limp.
He wasn’t surprised when she left without even looking at him, chatting happily with Hazel and Alma. At least she had something good for her story—until his colossal error, the event had been a masterclass in excellent wedding preparation.
Telfer was supposed to schmooze with the vendors, setting up possible leads for later Olympus stories or advertising content, but he couldn’t face that right now. He went back to their room instead, leaving Laodice to enjoy her lunch without him. He’d make a meal of protein bars. And shame.
***
“I know you said he was shy, but I didn’t really see it until today,” Alma said, passing Laodice the fruit bowl.
Laodice took a banana and shoved two apples into her sundress pockets for later, not really caring that they made unsightly lumps on either side of her hips. They weren’t being fed enough, and she was in no mood to beg Telfer for snacks, even if he owed her.
“That’s right,” she said, remembering the lie she’d told Alma on their first evening. “The shyness doesn’t come out often, but I think it was having to go first.”
“Still kind of a jerk move, leaving you up there like that,” Yvette observed from her other side, and Laodice frowned at her.
“It’s not the sort of thing you can control,” she said. Wait. Had Telfer been taken by a sudden bout of stage fright? She could have sworn that seconds before, he’d been more than happy at the prospect of dancing with her. He’d been scared of something . She hadn’t imagined that tension in his body. She’d just thought that it was disgust.
Yvette shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said, and looked across the table. “Hazel, why don’t we check out the hot tub before siesta? Laodice’s going to show Xavier her car.”
Laodice had completely forgotten, but Xavier brightened, and she didn’t have the heart to refuse him.
“Sure!” Hazel said, and then turned to Jesse. “Do you want to hot tub, hon?”
From Yvette’s face, she hadn’t planned to include Jesse in the invitation.
Xavier was gratifyingly impressed by the Spider’s restoration, enthusing over the Kamm tailer and rear bumper design. It turned out he’d been a gearhead since high school, and had a 1974 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia garaged in his home town, waiting until he had the time to restore it.
“You must be busy, if you’re leaving a beauty like that untouched,” Laodice said sympathetically.
“The work doesn’t stop,” Xavier said. “But Yvette’s a machine. She doesn’t get tired and she doesn’t slow down. I’ve seen her go through briefs and contracts hour after hour. If I didn’t remind her, she might not even take bathroom breaks.”
“Telfer works hard too,” Laodice said. She could give him credit for that, at least. “He’s usually first into the office and last out. Even stays late on Friday nights.”
Xavier gave her a confused look, and Laodice remembered that Elle and Telfer didn’t work in the same office, only in the same building. “I have to go and drag him away whenever we have a date,” she said quickly.
Xavier looked superior. “We’re disciplined about that. Tuesday and Friday nights and Sunday mornings are our time. Maybe you and Telfer could work out something similar. Especially since you don’t live together.”
“It’s a good idea,” Laodice said, and put the bonnet down. “Well, we better get back inside for siesta.”
They went in as Yvette was coming out, presumably to look for them. Laodice walked ahead, but their voices floated to her in the muggy summer air.
“Any luck?” Xavier asked.
“No,” Yvette said, sounding both annoyed and miserable. “I think she knows what I’m going to say, and she doesn’t want to hear it.”
“You’ll get her, sweetie,” Xavier promised, and there was the soft sound of lips meeting. They were obnoxious, Laodice thought, but admittedly a cute couple.
Well, now what? Everyone else would be enjoying their siesta time, but Laodice didn’t want to head upstairs yet. If Telfer really had had some sort of panic attack, she wanted to give him time to recover. And if he’d just been being a jerk, she didn’t trust herself not to point that out. Loudly.
There were no other distractions in sight. It was weird that Halcyon’s management hadn’t considered that people without phones might like some board games, or something to read, or a pack of cards. There were no TVs, in either their rooms or the common areas, and there wasn’t even a hotel gym on site, although there was an empty room by the hot tub that she thought had been meant for one.
It was a Sunday afternoon. What would she normally be doing? Recently, Sundays had been reserved for chores, followed by movies at Eli’s place, or dinner with her parents. But previous to Eli, Sunday afternoon had been a great time to log into the dating apps and start screening some possibilities. Laodice had taken full advantage of the dating scene. Sure, it often ended in rejection. She’d more than once been told she was coming on too strong, or expecting too much, right before she was dumped, again.
But she did feel deeply, quickly. She was a lot. And one day, she’d find someone who wanted all of her.
She’d thought—well, all right, she’d hoped—that that person could be Eli. He did share her energetic approach to life. And it had been a long time since she’d dated someone for more than a couple of months.
But she’d left him three days ago, and she didn’t miss him at all .
As she floundered with this realization, still standing in the lobby, Kyle emerged from the door behind the bar. He looked surprised when he saw her, then nodded a greeting.
Laodice walked over to meet him. He could be a great source of background for the story. And if not, he could be a distraction.
“Can I get you something?” he asked.
“It’s…well, I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s too early for me.” She eased up onto one of the plush bar stools. “A tonic water would be great, though.”
“You like it with lime, right?”
“I do. How did you remember that?”
He shrugged, and poured her drink, topping it with two lime wedges he pulled from a small fridge under the bar. “I used to work in a cocktail bar in the city. Remembering someone’s usual was a good way to get a better tip.”
Laodice sipped her water, and put the glass down. “Actually, can I ask you about that? Sarah said we shouldn’t tip, but I wanted to check that was all right with you.”
He grinned, flicking a blond strand out of his eyes. “Nah, we’re being taken care of. Don’t worry about that.”
“How many staff are there? I’ve seen you, Danielle, and Sarah.”
Something flickered in Kyle’s eyes, and Laodice knew she was about to be lied to. She’d seen that look on too many bridesmaids lying about how much they loved their dress, too many parents pretending they approved of their child’s new spouse. “Nah, there’s lots of staff,” he said. “There’s the kitchen workers, and housekeeping, and the groundskeepers…a lot of people. But they’re all supposed to stay out of sight. Part of the whole Halcyon deal is giving you privacy.”
It was completely plausible, and it wasn’t true. Laodice sipped her drink, giving herself time to think of an angle, and caught Kyle’s eyes snagging on her mouth. Aha.
“Or the illusion of privacy,” she said, sighing. “Did you hear about how my fiance abandoned me in the middle of the dance floor? That was kind of public.”
“I might have heard something,” Kyle said, and moved a little closer to her. “Tell you what, if I had a girl like you, I wouldn’t let her dance alone.”
Laodice cast her eyes down and then looked up at him through the lashes. “No?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I was really loving the class up until then, too. Who’s organizing those?”
“Oh, that’s all Sarah. She’s really great at that.”
Well, having poor social skills didn’t prevent someone from being a dynamite facilitator, Laodice supposed. “Do we have meditation every day?”
Kyle’s teeth gleamed. “Yep. Opening your mind to the cosmic adventure.”
“I bet you know what else is coming up in the schedule,” she said, and leaned forward. Kyle responded to the flattery and repositioning both, shuffling even closer. “Care to give me a hint?”
“Tonight is cocktail mixing with me. Tomorrow’s all about the music,” Kyle said, smiling at her with intent.
“Oh? Are you going to serenade us?”
He grinned. “I could. But it’s more about setting the scene at your ceremony and reception.”
“Aw,” Laodice said. “And Tuesday?”
“How to preserve the memories of your day. Photos, pressing the flowers from your bouquet, that kind of thing.”
“Do we get to go on any field trips? I feel pretty cooped up in here. Kind of shut off from the world.”
“I think it’s cozy,” Kyle said. “Who needs the world?”
Laodice laughed, and also tossed her hair back, one of her go-to flirt moves. “I don’t need the whole world. But I’m dying for a cheeseburger.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ve got pull with the chef?”
He smirked, enjoying some kind of private joke. “You better believe it, babe.”
Interesting , Laodice thought, and put that in her mental file. “A cheeseburger and curly fries,” she said, and sighed, a motion that she knew made her breasts heave and jiggle.
Kyle looked around the space theatrically, but the only people around were Carrick and Jesse, heading towards the spiral staircase, out of easy earshot. “I know a great diner in the Hippocampus. We could sneak out tonight. Maybe talk a little more.” The emphasis he put on talk indicated that a nice chat wasn’t really what he was after.
Laodice paused, disconcerted by his willingness to proposition someone in a relationship. Well, this wasn’t like Sarah hitting on Erik, who had never reciprocated her interest—Laodice was definitely and deliberately putting out signals. Perhaps Kyle assumed she and Telfer were polyamorous. Or perhaps he didn’t care.
Either way, she needed a way to retreat that would still leave him open to feeding her information later. She was casting around for one when Telfer’s voice sliced through the atmosphere, cool as a night breeze.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked.
***
Telfer sent his last piece to Miriam, closed down the mobile data hot spot, and shut his laptop. Despite Halcyon’s distractions, he’d completed his assigned work with even more than his usual productivity. He could log in tomorrow or Tuesday to go over Miriam’s comments and make adjustments, and then he was done.
But it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it should have been. Four years ago, he would have obsessed over those pieces, spending hours over the wording on each to make sure it best positioned the vendors with the various brand identities embodied by each title. Bliss was fun, casual and aimed at the younger and less moneyed market. Goddess was more traditional, more luxe, and more likely to involve names people would recognize. He’d written those keywords on post-it notes and stuck them all over his apartment, so that he’d internalize the messaging.
Even more crucially, aware that he had a significant experience gap, he’d studied bridal writing. He’d gone through the Olympus archives, reading every back issue of the major two titles, and a generous sampling of their smaller offerings and digital content. Laodice had only been in Bridal for a year before him, but she was clearly the best wedding reporter on staff, so he’d read and re-read her work, highlighting phrases he thought were interesting and original, noting elements of structure and style, and admiring the way she managed to cram so many quotes and names in without making it seem forced.
The long hours and constant grind had worked . He’d gone from being a business specialist with a minor in communications to being a real writer. And now he was inches away from an editorial position which would give him stability, security and a chance to innovate in a sometimes stagnant environment, and it somehow felt…flat.
He’d never told Laodice that he’d studied her work and taken it as a model. It would have felt like giving her a point in their intense, unspoken competition. Now he was wondering if he’d misjudged her. Perhaps if he had shared his admiration, she’d have responded with generosity instead of triumph.
It didn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
He checked the time again, and frowned. Laodice would be wanting to get her notes on the dance class organized and uploaded. He’d been hoping that she’d come upstairs of her own accord, but perhaps the collegial thing to do would be to find her and suggest that she could have exclusive use of the room. He wouldn’t blame her for not wanting him in close proximity—he could at least give her until the next couples gathering before she had to reconcile to his presence again. He could listen to a podcast in the—no, wait, he couldn’t, not without his phone. Well, he could find something to do.
Halfway down the stairs, he heard voices.
“—fucking owe me,” Jesse said. He wasn’t speaking particularly loudly, but the venom in his voice caught Telfer’s attention.
“Keep your voice down,” Carrick said, his voice quieter, but still perfectly audible as it floated upwards. The stairwell shaft must be acting as a kind of amplification chamber.
Eavesdropping was an ethical gray area, but Telfer had never let that stop him. He eased back to the center spine of the curving staircase, so he could be less easily spotted from the ground, and listened.
“You’ve got a nice life,” Jesse said. “A nice fiancée. A bit too ball-busting for my tastes, but I guess you like that in a woman. She seems like a straight shooter to me. How would she feel about some of the things I could tell her?”
“We’re not discussing that here.”
“I want a job at Argive, Carrick,” Jesse said, his voice getting louder. “You keep offering to smooth things over for your old college buddy, so you can fucking make it happen for me.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Carrick said urgently, and Telfer realized that the rise in volume was because they were getting closer. He silently retreated a few steps, and then deliberately scuffed his feet and coughed as he made his way down.
Both men stopped talking.
“So put in a good word for me!” Jesse said, as Telfer came into view, looking his blandest. Jesse smacked Carrick on the shoulder, with what was probably meant to be friendly force, and grinned at Telfer. “Coming to grovel?”
“Something like that,” Telfer said.
Carrick muttered something and brushed past him, heading quickly up the stairs. He looked harried and sweaty, though the air conditioning was still pumping out frigid air.
Jesse loitered, apparently happy to have a new target. “You’re going to have to put in some work, man. Elle looked pissed .” He gestured generally towards the bar, out of sight. “She’s trying to get her revenge by flirting with the barman. Women, huh?”
“Thanks for the tip,” Telfer said, and something in his voice must have revealed his distaste, because Jesse gave him a narrow-eyed look.
“My advice? Stay on top of that shit. They pretend it’s all just friendly, but—”
“I didn’t ask for advice,” Telfer said flatly, and walked right past him.
Laodice was talking to Kyle the barman. Telfer couldn’t tell for sure if she was flirting, since she’d never flirted with him, but she did seem to be doing some unnecessary hair tossing, and her voice was low and sultry. Kyle was looking at her with interest, which spoke well for his taste, if not his morals. In fact, he was so intent on Laodice that he didn’t even notice Telfer’s approach.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked pleasantly.
Kyle jumped. “I’ll, ah,” he said, and fled through the door behind the bar.
Laodice straightened on her bar stool, a queen on her throne. “Way to scare off my lead,” she said, but she didn’t actually sound angry. “If you wanted to cut in, you should have kept dancing.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Telfer said. “I felt suddenly self-conscious.” Actually, he’d been all too conscious of her , but he knew better than to say so.
“That’s okay.” Laodice finished her drink and slid off the bar stool. “You saved me from having to come up with a graceful way to cut and run, so you’re provisionally forgiven.”
Telfer fell into step with her automatically as she headed towards the stairs. “I thought you might need the room.”
“I do. I have some thoughts and questions I want to get down.” She sounded abstracted, her eyes distant with thought.
“Do you need a sounding board?” he offered. He was pathetic. He’d been all noble intentions, prepared to give her space and privacy, but the instant she seemed as if she might not outright reject his company, he was finding reasons to be close to her.
“Sure, might be good,” Laodice said, and his stupid heart actually skipped a beat. She started to say something else, but they were at the foot of the stairs by then, and he pointed up, making a shushing gesture.
She rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet until they were back in the room, where she made a beeline for the end of the bed and sat down, shucking off her sandals with an ecstatic sigh of relief.
Telfer thought of other occasions that she might make that sound, and wandered over to the window to get his mind back on track. Sounding board. Right. “So, why were you flirting with Kyle?” he said, without turning around.
There was a rustling noise, presumably Laodice working her way up the bed to sit cross-legged, her back braced against the pillows. He’d noticed she liked that position.
“I wanted some background,” she said. “Have you never flirted for a story?”
Telfer looked at her. Sure enough, she was cross-legged, bare feet tucked up under her thighs, reclining against the pillows. “I don’t really flirt much,” he said.
Laodice gestured at him. “I mean, you probably don’t have to.”
Telfer wasn’t quite sure how to take that, and his confusion must have shown, because she went on hurriedly, her cheeks staining pink. “Anyway, I got some of the schedule. Tonight is cocktail mixing. Mocktails for you, I guess.”
“Oh good, grenadine,” Telfer said dryly.
“Tomorrow is something to do with music, and the day after is photography and something else.” She frowned. “Telfer, is this retreat what you expected?”
Telfer considered the question. “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he said finally. “It seems off, somehow, but I don’t know if that’s my skewed perceptions.”
“I wondered that too, whether not being here as a couple is making us see things differently. But the whole experience feels a lot less luxe than I expected. They’re really not feeding us right, for one thing.”
“I noticed that,” Telfer admitted. “I ate the last of the protein bars, sorry.”
Laodice waved that away. “They were your bars in the first place. Thank you for sharing.”
“I thought that the tiny portions might be a wealthy people thing.”
“Maybe. But I’ve attended a lot of society pre-wedding events. Even if nobody eats the food, it’s there, and there’s lots of it.”
Telfer frowned. “Are you planning to canvass the couples?”
“Yes, but there might be a perception problem there, too.”
“How so?”
“Because they’re probably having a lot of sex,” Laodice said. “No electronics, no distractions, nothing to do between the scheduled activities… I wouldn’t be surprised if people come out of this experience feeling really positive about it because of that. All those happy post-orgasmic hormones.”
Telfer’s brain was screaming warnings at him, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. “You could be having sex, if you wanted.”
Laodice laughed. “With Kyle? No, thank you.”
“No,” he said, because he’d done it now, and there was no way out but through. “I meant with me.”