20. Charlotte
— ? —
Charlotte
I woke with his arm across my waist.
For one minute, everything was simple. His chest rose and fell against my back. The sheets smelled like him, like us, like everything we had finally stopped running from. I let myself sink into it. The warmth. The weight of him. The quiet that came after six months of noise.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I ignored it. Sutton’s hand flexed against my hip in his sleep and I pressed back into him, stealing one more minute.
It buzzed again. And again. And again.
“Someone’s desperate,” Sutton murmured without opening his eyes.
“It’s probably Randy,” I said. “He sends me fifty texts every morning about whatever reality show he watched the night before. I’ve learned to sleep through it.”
“Ignore him,” Sutton said. “Come back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t awake.”
“You were getting there.” He pulled me tighter. “Stay. Five more minutes. The world can wait.”
The phone buzzed again. I counted four, five, six vibrations before I finally reached for it.
Randy’s name filled the screen. Six missed calls. Two texts. Another call coming in now.
I sat up. The sheet fell to my waist.
“Something’s wrong,” I said. “Randy doesn’t call. He sends paragraphs about which drag queen got eliminated and why the judges are criminally insane. He’s never actually called me. Not once in six months.”
Sutton propped himself on one elbow. “So don’t answer. Whatever drama he’s having can wait until you’ve had coffee.”
“Seven calls in three minutes isn’t drama.” I picked up before it went to voicemail. “Randy, what’s going on?”
“Charlotte, thank God.” His voice was pitched high and breathless in a way I’d never heard from him. “Where are you right now? Tell me you’re not about to walk into The Cove.”
“I’m not at The Cove,” I lied. “I stayed with a friend after the auction. Why?”
“A friend.” He laughed, but there was nothing funny in it. “Honey, in about thirty seconds you’re going to wish you’d picked a different friend. Have you looked at The Crow’s Nest this morning?”
My stomach turned to ice.
“No,” I said. “Why? What happened?”
“Posy Wetherell happened.” Randy’s voice dropped. “She ran it. The photo from the hallway. You in your uniform looking like you’re about to get eaten alive against the wall.”
“Randy, slow down.” My heart was pounding now. “What photo? What are you talking about?”
“You and your mystery man. Someone got a shot of you pressed against the wall with his hands all over you, and now it’s the lead item in Newport’s favorite gossip column. I wanted you to hear it from me before you walked into a firing squad.”
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the beautiful hotel room pressed in around me.
“Charlotte?” Randy said. “Are you still there? Talk to me.”
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m here. I have to go.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. I can meet you somewhere. We can figure this out together. You don’t have to face this alone.”
“I’ll call you back.”
I ended the call and stared at the phone in my hand like it might bite me.
Sutton was sitting up now, all traces of sleep gone from his face. “What did he say? You’ve gone white.”
“Give me your phone,” I said.
“Charlotte, talk to me.”
“Your phone.” My voice came out sharper than I meant. “I need to see something. Now.”
He handed it over without another word. I pulled up the browser and typed in Newport Daily News with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking.
The Crow’s Nest loaded in seconds. Posy Wetherell’s byline at the top. And beneath it, filling the entire screen, the photograph that was about to end my life.
The caption read:
Newport’s most dedicated hospitality professional demonstrates the full-service experience.
Sources confirm the guest in question has been a frequent visitor to The Cove’s front desk, though one suspects he’s found more interesting amenities to explore.
Room service has never looked so accommodating.
“Let me see,” Sutton said.
I handed him the phone and watched his face change. The color rising in his neck. The muscle jumping in his jaw. His knuckles going white around the edges.
“I’m going to destroy her,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter what you do to her,” I said. “The damage is done.”
“This is defamation. This is a deliberate hit piece. My lawyers will have her retraction printed by tomorrow morning.”
“Your lawyers can’t un-print a photograph, Sutton.”
“They can make her life miserable enough that she wishes she’d never heard your name.”
“And in the meantime?” I was already moving, pulling last night’s dress from the floor. “Sean sees this over his eggs and coffee. My coworkers see it. Every guest who’s ever smiled at me sees it and wonders what else I was offering.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.
“That’s not how it works.” I stepped into the dress and reached for the zipper. “It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do. It matters what that photo looks like. And it looks like exactly what she wanted it to look like.”
“Like what?”
“Like the desperate employee fucking her way through the guest list.” The words came out harsh. “Like a woman who couldn’t keep her legs closed on company time.”
Sutton stood up and reached for his clothes. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”
“Charlotte, you can’t walk in there alone.”
“I can and I will.” I found one shoe by the window, the other near the bathroom door. “You showing up makes it worse. You’re the man in the photograph. You walking into my workplace is the worst thing you could possibly do right now.”
“So I’m supposed to just sit here?” he asked. “While they tear you apart?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You have to.” I grabbed my bag and turned to face him. “I know you want to fix this. I know every instinct you have is telling you to charge in and make it right. But this is my job. My reputation. My life. And I need to handle it on my own terms.”
“What if they fire you?”
“Then they fire me,” I said. “And I figure out what comes next.”
“Charlotte.” His voice cracked on my name. “Please. Let me do something.”
“You want to do something?” I stopped at the door. “Stay here. Don’t follow me. Don’t call the hotel. Don’t do anything until I tell you what I need.”
I left before he could argue. I left knowing he would ignore everything I’d just said.
***
The lobby of The Cove was too quiet when I walked in.
The girl at the front desk looked at me and looked away fast, her cheeks flushing pink. A guest near the elevator did a double-take he didn’t bother to hide. The bellhop who usually waved at me suddenly found something fascinating on his phone.
I kept my head up and walked toward the staff entrance. Every step felt like crossing a minefield in heels.
Sean was waiting by the back office door. His face was the color of old brick and his jaw was set so tight I could see the vein pulsing in his temple.
“Inside,” he said. “Now.”
I followed him in. He closed the door behind us. The click of the latch sounded like a verdict.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I’d rather stand,” I said.
“I don’t care what you’d rather do.” He moved behind his desk but didn’t sit. “Sit down.”
I sat.
He picked up his phone and turned the screen toward me. The photo again. My face. My uniform. Sutton’s hands.
“A guest,” he said.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said.
“In uniform. In my hallway. With his hands on you like he was about to take you against the wall.”
“The angle is misleading,” I said. “Posy Wetherell manufactures scandals to sell her column. This has nothing to do with The Cove or my work here.”
“I don’t care about Posy Wetherell’s vendettas,” he said. “I care about the fact that Madison Ellsworth is already fielding calls and she’s the fucking owner.”
“Madison is getting calls?”
“Madison is getting calls. The board is getting calls. I’ve been getting calls since six in the morning.” He set the phone down hard on the desk. “Do you understand what this does to us? Do you have any idea how long it takes to build the kind of reputation we have here?”
“I’ve worked here for six months,” I said. “My performance reviews are spotless. My guest satisfaction scores are the highest on the floor.”
“None of that matters now.”
“How can it not matter?”
“Because this photograph tells a different story.” Sean leaned forward with his palms flat on the desk.
“This photograph tells Newport that Charlotte Waltham trades on her looks to get special treatment from wealthy guests. That’s the story everyone is reading over breakfast. That’s the story that’s going to follow this hotel for months. ”
“It’s a lie,” I said. “The whole thing is manufactured. Posy took a private moment and twisted it into something ugly because she wanted to hurt me.”
“I don’t care why she did it,” he said. “I care what it looks like.”
“And what does it look like?”
“It looks like exactly what it is.” His voice went cold. “A front desk employee getting felt up by a guest during her shift. That’s the only story anyone cares about. That’s the only story anyone’s going to remember.”
“So what happens now?” I asked. “You suspend me? Transfer me to a different department? What?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “But I can tell you that right now, you’re a liability I can’t afford. Every minute you’re on this floor, you’re a distraction. Every guest who sees you is going to be thinking about that photo instead of their stay.”
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“Fair has nothing to do with it,” he said. “This is business. And right now, you’re bad for business.”
The door opened behind me.
Sutton walked in like he owned the building.
His jaw was set and his eyes were fixed on Sean. He had changed into fresh clothes, and every line of his body radiated barely controlled fury.
“Get away from her,” he said.
Sean straightened. “This is a private meeting. Guests are not permitted in staff areas.”
“I’m not a guest,” Sutton said. “I’m the man in the photograph.”