A Gentleman's Affair (20 page)

Just as I am about to reach my suite, a
voice comes out of nowhere…i.e.: the concave area in front of my
door. There she is again.

Danielle. She is like flies at a picnic.
Annoying, and always there, landing where they aren’t wanted.

“Donovan, can I talk to you, please?” she
says, in an uncharacteristic-for-Danielle soft voice.

“What do you want, Danielle?” Annoyed, I
pull my keycard from my pocket and slide it through the device on
the door.

“Just give me two minutes, and then I won’t
ever bother you again. I promise,” she pleads.

FUCK! “Two minutes, Danielle.” I push the
door open, and she follows me in. “Spit it out. I’m in a hurry.” I
walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a clean shirt to change
into.

“So you have a new girlfriend?” she says as
she helps herself to a drink at the mini-bar.

“I don’t have time for this. If that’s what
you came here to talk about, you’ve wasted your time. And now you
are wasting mine.” I cross the room and go into the bathroom to
splash my face with cold water, changing into a fresh shirt.

“I can’t even ask a simple question?” I
ignore her, kicking the door closed with my foot.

I walk back into the room, and Danielle
turns away from the mini-bar, walking towards me with two glasses
in her hand, offering one to me.

“Have a shot with me, and I’ll go.” She
smiles her cheating whore fake smile.

“No thank you,” I say through pursed lips.
“Are we done here? I have someone waiting for me.”

“I know. Who is she?” Still smiling, she is
unaware that I’m about two seconds away from tossing her into the
hall myself.

“None of your fucking business, Danielle.” I
snap.

“Here,” she urges me again to take the shot.
“For old time’s sake? Then I swear, I’ll go.”

“Whatever it takes to get rid of you.” I
snatch the shot from her hand and toss it back, slamming the glass
down on the dresser. “Happy? Now get the fuck out of my room.”

And the moment that I reach the door and am
just about to turn the handle, I hear her beginning to cry. FUCK!
Why me?

“Donovan. My mom is really sick. That’s why
I came here to talk to you.”

I bang my head against the still-closed door
a few times, then turn to look at her with a raised brow. “Is that
the truth or some sort of manipulation?” 

Danielle’s mom and I were pretty close,
actually. How such a kind, caring woman raised such a lying,
cheating, whore of a daughter, I’ll never understand.

“Donovan, it’s the truth,” she says, tears
streaming down her cheeks.

I walk back into the room, suddenly feeling
out of sorts and desperately needing to sit down. I sit at the edge
of the bed, far away from her, placing my head in my hands in an
attempt to stop the spinning.

“So, what’s going on with your mom?” I ask,
looking back up at her, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“She just hasn’t been herself lately, you
know?”

“No. What do you mean, not herself?” I am
definitely smelling bullshit here, but as I said, I liked her mom,
so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt…for about two more
minutes.

“Umm, well…” is all I hear her say before my
head becomes so foggy that I can’t make sense out of another
word.

Christ. What the fuck is going on? I’m
starting to feel nauseous and extremely dizzy. Danielle’s voice is
starting to morph, sounding like something out of a bad horror
flick. Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion all of the
sudden.

For some reason, I can’t get any words out,
but I can see that she’s watching me closely. Extremely close, as a
matter of fact. The room begins to spin out of control and suddenly
everything seems to fade to black. I feel myself falling back onto
the bed—the way you feel yourself falling when you’re having a bad
dream—and I can’t stop it. Out. Cold.

I wake up after what feels like an eternity
has passed. It takes a minute, but my surroundings finally become
clear. I check the time on the alarm clock…four thirty in the
morning. The suite is eerily quiet, and Scarlett isn’t beside
me.

I pull the covers back, no recollection
whatsoever of getting undressed and into bed. I feel like I have a
hangover, when I know that I wasn’t even drinking last night. Was
I?

I swing my legs over the side of the bed,
attempting to rise to my feet, but my legs feel extremely heavy and
unsteady. My entire body feels like it got hit by a bus. Every
muscle is aching.

Fuck. My head is throbbing.

I place my palms on the firm mattress and
push myself off the bed. Something just doesn’t feel right here. I
walk across the room to check the only other place that she could
be.

“Scarlett?” I call out, knocking softly on
the closed door as I check the bathroom. Nothing. I push the door
open seeing that it is, in fact, empty. What the hell?

I turn on the faucet and splash my face with
cold water, leaning over the basin, letting the water drip from my
chin for a minute as I try to piece everything together. Where is
she?

Shutting off the water before walking back
into the suite, I look around the room again. No pink suitcase. No
note from Scarlett. All that I see is the two shot glasses that are
sitting on the dresser…Danielle.

Fuck!

I scramble to find my cell to call Scarlett,
feeling like I’m in the middle of a very bad dream.

I see a text message from Scarlett, thank
fucking god. But as I begin to read the words, my heart sinks…

Chapter Twenty

~Confessions~

“I hope she was worth it, you son of a
bitch…” was all that her text message said.

What the fuck is she talking about? I read
the words over and over. She hopes that who was worth it? Worth
what? Christ.

Please, feel free to confuse me even more.
Welcome to my nightmare.

I call her: once, twice…five times in a row.
No answer.

Why won’t she take my calls? I don’t give a
fuck what time it is, I will continue to call until she picks up. I
pace around the room, gripping my cell phone in one hand, the other
in a tight fist.

I glance at the alarm clock. Five forty-five
a.m.

I go over last night’s events again in my
mind. Nothing. Why did Scarlett just leave? No warning. No word. No
nothing. It just doesn’t make any sense.

I call her again, and this time it goes
straight to voicemail. Think, Donovan. Think.

So, after an incredible day together on the
strip…she just up and leaves without a word? We’ve got that. But
why? Why the cryptic text message?

More pacing. More thinking.

I send her a text message.

“Scarlett, we need to talk. Please call me
when you get this.” I press send and go back to wearing out the
carpet.

Call the airline. Dead end. They don’t give
out information to “non-relatives”. Excellent. Is she still here in
Vegas? Did she go back home? Fuck!

I check the time again. Six fifteen.

I check my cell phone. No word from her yet.
I am exhausted, confused, starving.

But there is a message from Mike. The
topping out party is set for tomorrow at noon. Fuck! I completely
forgot about that.

This is a dilemma. Do I fly back to Malibu
to try and find Scarlett? Or do I stay here and attend the party
for Pisa…the hotel of my dreams that I have been working on for
well over a year now?

I leave Scarlett another message before
taking a quick shower.

After a hearty room service breakfast, I
call down to the front desk to see if Danielle is staying here at
the Venetian. I want some answers, and I fucking want them now.

Room 4312. And I’m off. I take the elevator
down to the fourth floor. Being that it is only seven thirty in the
morning, I have a feeling that I will, in fact, find her in her
room.

I find her room and knock on the door. No
answer. Hmm. I knock again slipping in, “Housekeeping”…and that
does it. She answers.

“Donovan? Uh…what are you doing here?”
Clearly dumbfounded, looking ridiculously guilty, she brings her
hand up to cover her mouth full of lies…or her bad morning breath.
Probably both.

“Surely you can’t be surprised to see me,
Danielle. Step aside,” and I push on the door, walking right past
her and into the room. “What the fuck happened last night?” I spit
out, getting right to the point.

“What do you mean?” Closing the door, she
rubs the sleep from her eyes while she attempts to play stupid.

“I am going to give you just one fucking
chance to come clean.” I walk over to her, getting up in her face,
so that she can have a close-up of just how fucking serious and
pissed off I am.

“We had a shot, then I left,” she lies.

“Bullshit! What the fuck happened,
Danielle?” My fists now clenched, my eyes filled with rage. It
takes everything that I have in me not to knock her the fuck out.
But I have never—will never— hit a woman. Do I want to right now?
Fuck yes.

“What do you mean, what happened?” She turns
and walks away, talking to the wall instead of facing me.
“Donovan,” she says, laughing her evil snaky laugh. “You really
need to get a hold…”

“Do NOT fuck with me Danielle! What the FUCK
happened last night?” An unrecognizable deep guttural growl escapes
my mouth as I stop her mid-sentence, grabbing her by the arms and
spinning her around to meet my penetrating stare.

“Okay, okay!” she shouts out, her lying
fear-filled eyes wide. “Let me go!”

Glaring, I release her, taking a step
back.

“Start fucking talking.” Folding my arms
across my chest, the veins begin to bulge in my neck, ready to
burst.

“Okay…” She stares down at the floor as if
the right answer was written on the carpet.

“WELL? I’M WAITING!” I shout out, patience
wearing thin.

“Okay, okay.” She looks back up to meet my
stare, tears welling up in her lying bitch eyes. “I, um… sorta put
something in your shot,” she murmurs.

“You ‘SORTA’ put something in my shot? YOU
FUCKING ROOFIED ME? What the FUCK were you thinking?” I shout out.
There it is…the veins have burst. Mother fucking bitch!

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she begins to cry.

“Save it, Danielle. Then what? I need to
know everything.”

She starts to shake, the tears pouring down
her cheeks now. “I may have…” She mutters something
incomprehensible. Is she speaking in tongues now? Only her and god
understood that.

“What was that?” I step closer to her again,
staring down at her through fury-filled eyes. As if it were even
possible for me to be any more pissed-off.

“Tell me what you did to Scarlett!” I
demand.

“Who?” She furrows her brow. Who? Fuck!
Still spewing her lies.

She clearly does not understand just how
furious I am, so, I pick up a glass of water from the night table
and throw it hard against the wall, watching her duck as the shards
shoot in her direction.

“Do NOT fuck with me, Danielle. She sent me
a text last night that said, ‘I hope she was worth it.’ What the
fuck did she mean by that?” Clenching my fists again, staring her
lying ass down.

“Oh.” She quickly looks away.

“OH? Tell me what you did. I want to hear
you fucking say it,” I demand, already knowing the answer at this
point.

“Fine. I sent her a text from your cell
telling her to come back to the room. I know it was wrong…I’m… I’m
sorry,” and the waterworks begin to flow yet again.

“And then?” I demand. 

“Then…she walked in and found us,” she
replies in a small apologetic voice.

“Found us…doing what? You’ll have to fill in
the blanks here, Danielle, since I was PASSED OUT COLD!” I
shout.

“Found us in bed together,” she murmurs,
hanging her head. 

“I see,” I respond, trying my best to remain
calm as her twisted, fucked-up story unfolds. “Doing what,
exactly?” I urge her to finish, shaking my head and trying to make
sense of this fucking nightmare.

If she even says that we “fucked”, I will
prepare myself to be arrested for her murder. What the fuck must
Scarlett be thinking after seeing us in bed together? My mind is on
a downward spiral after hearing her confession.

“Nothing, I swear! You were passed out. She
just stood there for a minute in shock, then she took her suitcase
and left,” she continues. “I’m sorry.” She looks down, staring at
the floor.

“You are…sorry?” I shake my head, trying not
to strangle her.

“Yes” is the only word she can manage
through her bawling.

Apology NOT accepted, you batshit fucking
crazy bitch.

“Do you have any idea just what you’ve
done?” I shout out as she buries her face in her hands, tears
streaming.

I pace the small area of carpet next to the
bed. Fuck! Fuck! At least I have the truth. Now to fix things with
Scarlett…if I’m lucky. I pull my cell from my pocket, pulling up
Scarlett’s number, and pressing call.

“Tell her the fucking truth. Explain to her
exactly what you did to me.” Knowing that the call will go straight
to voicemail, I hand the phone to Danielle, standing over her,
glaring.

She takes the cell and leaves the message.
Now we both know the truth about last night. I only hope that this
will convince Scarlett to talk to me again.

“Done.” She hands me back my phone then
walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, dropping her head
into her hands, crying.

“Cry all you want, Danielle. Never…and I
mean NEVER, come near me or her again. Got it?”

She looks up with only a nod to offer as an
answer.

“Just tell me why.” I lower my voice, but
only because I’m tired of yelling.

“I guess because I wanted you back, and I
thought….” she shakes her head then goes on, “I don’t know what I
thought.”