Chapter 15 Lacey
LACEY
I am so not ready for Monday morning. I wake up at the crack of dawn, and every muscle in my body reminds me of what I did this weekend. I’m exhausted and feel so, so good lying here, I keep my eyes closed and just savor how sore every muscle in my legs and ass are.
I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard having sex before, but I love it. Holding my legs open, thrusting back against Eagle while lying on my back.
Phew.
No wonder some of the hottest celebrities say their only form of exercise is having sex. I’ve clearly been doing it wrong my entire adult life.
Besides, I would ordinarily have the Monday after a weekend-long event off. A chance to sleep in and rest, then I’d debrief with the team on Tuesday. But not today. Don told me when he sent me home Saturday to come in this morning so we could meet as a team and discuss what happened this weekend.
I groan as I drag myself from the bed and let Ruby out into the yard. Mom is sleeping in today, and I shush Ruby as I let her out the sun-room door and then back inside for her breakfast. I’ll walk her before I leave, but first, I need coffee.
After I feed Ruby and suck down a nice cup of coffee, I take a shower and dry my hair in my bedroom, so it’s quiet for Mom. Then, the nerves start to creep in.
I try to remember everything Mom said, everything I believe. I did nothing wrong. I had a relationship with a man who I did not know was married. I didn’t know he was a client of the Lantana until shortly before the wedding.
I did nothing wrong.
He’s the one who was married.
Is married.
After walking Ruby around the block so she can sniff the local smells and do her business, I put on a power outfit, my standard pencil skirt and blouse.
I pull out a reliable pair of pointy-toe flats today.
I don’t know why. The athletic sex I had with Eagle has my legs feeling wobbly.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s my nerves for what I’m about to face.
I kiss Ruby goodbye and leave a note for Mom, telling her to have a nice day.
It’s a small thing we do for each other every now and then.
Yeah, I could text her, but she’s asleep.
And when she wakes up, seeing a real smiley face that I drew and not an emotion dumped into a message really will give my mother a huge smile.
I blast the AC vents and head toward work, willing the butterflies in my stomach to settle down. About half a mile from work, I have to pull over. It’s like I’m overcome with this sense of dread, as if something bad’s about to happen.
It was the same kind of feeling I got with Dylan at least a half dozen times.
Like when he’d answer a phone call a little too fast or when he locked his phone screen as I got close.
It was never one big thing that snagged my attention, but tiny moments that cut me like a thousand little paper cuts until, finally, I felt the pain. And then, of course, I bled.
Each time, I ignored all the little signs, and did I ever learn to regret it.
I put on my turn signal and pull into a gas station, off to the side where no one is pumping gas. I blast the AC toward my chest, trying to calm myself and cool down the sweat that’s broken out on my lip. “What is wrong with me?”
I look in the rearview mirror as I literally have to pull tissues out of my purse to blot the sweat. I feel weak and nervous, scared and anxious.
Stop this, I tell myself. You’re okay. You did nothing wrong. You might be a little embarrassed, but that’s it. You’ll get through this. You’ve gotten through so much worse.
I check my watch and cringe. I’m in danger of being late if I sit here for any longer, but I turn off the car, run inside the gas station, and buy a bottle of water. It’s not really cold, but I pay and rush back to my car, thankful for anything to cut through the dryness of my mouth.
I grab my phone, open my messages, and send off two words to Eagle.
Me: Kinda panicking
I add the worried-face emoji and hit send.
He replies in under thirty seconds. It’s like he had his phone in his hands.
Eagle: Where do I need to be? Are you safe?
I smile, relieved that all I’d have to do is ask and he’d drop everything and show up.
Me: I’m okay. On my way to work. It’s all just hitting me. Thanks for being there.
Eagle: You want me to come to the Lantana? No charge for security services as long as I’m protecting YOU.
I read his message like three times, not believing what I’m seeing. I know I have to stop comparing every man I date to all the shitty ones who came before him, but…Eagle is special.
But Eagle isn’t my boyfriend. I mean, we’re adults, and until we have more time or have a talk or something, we’re in this vague, undefined space.
We’ve had sex, but we haven’t ever seen each other outside of work, except, of course, for the places we’ve had sex.
And yet I texted him early on a Monday morning, and he was there. Ready to jump in and help.
Me: Just hearing from you helps. Thx.
I add the kissy-lips emoji and hit send. Then I put on my big-girl panties and head into work. I got this. No matter what lies ahead. I got this.
What I got when I arrived at work was fired.
“Excuse me?” I look from Don to Sergio Lantana to Carla, my head a boiling stew of their words that come together and yet still make no sense. “They said what?”
Sergio Lantana looks down at his extremely tanned hands. “Lacey, you’ve been a part of this organization so long, I don’t know what we’d do without you. But the Acostas have made some serious allegations.”
“Allegations,” I cry, “what allegations?”
After Sergio sat me down with Carla and Don and said they had no choice but to let me go, all the rest got lost. But before I get up and clear out my office, I need the details. I need to know exactly why I’m being let go.
Sergio, a lovely man who has played Santa at the Lantana employee holiday party every year since I was hired, looks like he’s feeling sick. Can’t be worse than I feel, though, so I force myself to meet his eyes as he avoids mine.
“Look, Lacey, I don’t want to know about any personal relationship you may or may not have had with Dylan Acosta.
He’s said there was something, and that’s not even what matters here.
The bride is claiming that you used your influence over her father to steer them into choices that were different from what she stated they wanted for their event. ”
“What?” I can’t even believe my ears. I slam my palms against the conference room table. I can’t believe that Carla and Don are here for this. I’m embarrassed, yes, but I’m not even being given a chance to defend myself. “Can you please just—”
Don pulls a file folder out from a stack of papers he’s brought with him. He opens the folder—one that I notice has my last name and the date printed on a label, and I feel the bile rise in my throat—and then he hands me a copy of a contract.
“Lacey, the Acosta bride says that she didn’t want the buffet-style brunch at Lantana.
She originally said that she wanted a plated brunch at a separate venue.
But you—her words, not mine—oversold them on the idea that they should book all three days here.
They claim you knew they wanted plated brunch service and that the bride specifically said she didn’t want any family-style or buffet-style service.
” Don sighs and uses air quotes as he says, “The Acostas think anything other than plated service is tacky.’”
Sergio points to the contract. “Dylan Acosta claims that you entered into a relationship with him and used your influence on him to convince him that our venue would be the best value and the best experience for his daughter.”
“That’s bullshit!” I cry out, shocked. “Look,” I tell him, holding out my hand for Don’s copy of the contract. “Look at the dates.”
Don hands me the contract so I can see for myself, and I’m shocked.
Horrified, in fact. The date that Dylan Acosta signed the contract for the wedding itself was a year before we started seeing each other.
But he did sign the contract for the full three-day weekend event—rehearsal dinner and brunch the day after the wedding—exactly two weeks after we first hooked up.
“I-I guess I misremembered,” I stammer, pointing to the date.
“By the time they decided to have the three-day event here, I…” I can’t say it.
I know damn well that I didn’t coerce the Acostas into anything.
They wanted the three-day package. They asked for it.
I even remember Dylan joking after he signed the contract for the full event that he hoped I worked on commission. I joked back that I did not.
I didn’t think at the time that it was odd that he came in alone to sign the contract.
By then, we’d already slept together, and I had no memory of the fact that he was a father of a bride whom I’d met once for about two hours a year earlier when they toured the facility and then put down a deposit.
It was only later, after we started seeing each other, that he found out I worked at the Lantana and came in to purchase a full package for his daughter. But he said at the time there was no one else he’d trust his daughter’s big day to.
Trust. His word, not mine.
And now, all that trust is shattered. And he’s accusing me of inappropriate behavior. All the black-and-white print of the employee handbook swims before my eyes. Isn’t this exactly the kind of thing the handbook was written to prevent?
I have to admit, it looks bad any way you slice it.
I look up at Sergio. “I made a bad choice in my personal life,” I say, holding my chin high.
“But I did nothing to compromise the integrity of my position or the Lantana itself. I can assure you, Sergio, I handled the Acostas like every other client. With integrity and with their best interests at heart.”