Chapter 17: The Hotel
244 words
The silence inside the limousine had been healing, but the silence of the Presidential Suite was divine. The bellboy had placed my sodden, muddy suitcases on a luggage rack, looking at them with confusion before accepting the hundred-dollar bill I pressed into his hand.
I wandered through the rooms. There was a living area larger than my entire house with Richard. A balcony overlooking the city lights. A bathroom with marble floors heated from beneath.
I started the bath. I didn't care about the water bill. I dumped an entire bottle of lavender bath salts into the steaming water. For five years, I had taken three-minute showers to save money for Richard’s "business ventures."
Room service arrived twenty minutes later. A silver cart wheeled in by a man in white gloves. Lobster thermidor. Truffle fries. A bottle of vintage champagne on ice.
I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, wrapped in a robe that felt like a cloud, and popped the cork. The foam spilled over my fingers, sticky and sweet.
I finally gathered the courage to turn on my old, cracked cell phone. It buzzed immediately in my hand, vibrating so hard it nearly fell.
50 Missed Calls. 22 New Messages.
ALL from Richard.
"Loretta, baby, pick up." "We need to talk." "Who is that lawyer?" "I love you, honey, don't do this."
I took a sip of champagne, the bubbles dancing on my tongue, and selected "Block Caller."
End of Chapter 17
