“Oh, so you remember.”
“It’s all coming back to me through hypnotic counseling.” Brian glances at Caleb. “Light me a cigarette, will ya?”
“You shouldn’t smoke while you’re driving.”
“So send me to detention.” Brian sighs. He figures he’s going to have to go through a whole carton of cigarettes before the weekend is up.
*
They arrive at the boutique hotel in Hartford which is rented by Lori Fox, soon to be Mrs. Lance Buchner. The blood starts to roar in Sam’s ears. This is a mistake. She shouldn’t be trying to delude anyone. What was she thinking about, letting Cassie talk her into this sham with Brian Morton of all people?
Still, the black Ferrari gets stares from the doormen as it revs up the driveway. It’s like Brian – sleek, dark, shark-like. It was Cassie’s idea to make Brian drive them to Hartford in his car. Well, one of his cars, anyway. She had even handpicked the most polished and flashiest.
Whoever would have thought that Brian would turn out to be one of the reclusive Mortons of Chicago? It never registered with Sam in middle grade that Brian was a rich kid. He certainly never gave off that silver spoon vibe, and he certainly didn’t talk about it in school.
Still, he was someone she never wanted to get to know in school. And as irony would have it, she knows plenty about him now.
She hopes she remembers everything.
No one she knows is at the hotel lobby to greet them. Not her sister, not her mother. That’s a good thing, she consoles herself. At least she wouldn’t be bombarded with awkward questions right off the bat.
Lori had been majorly curious over the phone when she asked to include three more guests.
“Oh my God,” she had gushed. “He got back from Tokyo in time?”
“Tokyo?”
“Yes. You said he was jetting to Tokyo for the weekend.”
“Ah yes,” Sam replies hastily, “Tokyo was a washout. All that rain and cherry blossoms scattering around. And so he cancelled.”
“How come you never told me about him, Sam? How come you’ve never mentioned him to Mom?” Lori’s tone turns a tad suspicious.
“Oh well, you know, we hardly see each other and everything.” Sam manages a casual laugh. “Anyway, you never know when these things might end, so – ”
“I get it. You don’t want to jinx it.” Lori pauses sympathetically. “It must be so awful to be you, Sam. I mean, you’re my older sister and everything, but you have the damndest luck when it comes to boyfriends. So I perfectly understand why you might feel embarrassed about introducing one of them to us . . . just in case, you know, he doesn’t last out the week.”
Damn right if he doesn’t, Sam thinks. But still, Lori doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.
The reception is one of those quiet little areas you find in boutique hotels – with teak paneling and cozy armchairs and mirrored marble floors and oil paintings of the hotel’s mustachioed founders, who just all happen to be women.
“Wow,” Cassie says to Sam, “I take it Mr. Lance Buchner is paying for all this.”
“More like Papa and Mama Lance Buchner. I hear they are filthy rich. Believe it or not, I’m her sister and I’ve never even met Lance.”
Cassie raises her eyebrows. “Wow. You two sisters are tight. You must have been inseparable in grade school.”
“Only when Mom strapped the two of us together onto the child seats.”
The four of them go up to the reception desk. The receptionist is a young, attractive bottle blonde who immediately makes a beeline for Brian. Sam grimaces.
“And you are?” The receptionist flashes Brian her most winning smile.
He smiles winningly back.
Sam replies, “Samantha Fox and Brian Morton. Caleb Carr and Cassandra Harris. We should have reservations made for all four of us.”
The receptionist checks the screen on her desk. “Well yes, we do. A double room for Samantha Fox and Brian Morton. And two single rooms each for Caleb Carr and Cassandra Harris.”
It was at the back of Sam’s mind throughout the entire journey, but it hasn’t struck her fully until now. Of course. She would have to share a room . . . and a bed . . . with Brian. Lori assumes they are a regular couple and she would have arranged nothing less.
Sharing a bed with Brian Morton.
Ugh!
Brian senses her misgivings. He leans over to the receptionist. “And would that be a double bed in the double room?” he asks in a silky voice.
The receptionist appears charmed. Typical, Sam fumes.
“Of course. Your rooms are equipped with a king-sized bed, Wi-fi, refrigerator and a shower stall as well as a long bath.”
“Interesting.” Brian flickers a sidelong glance at Sam. “Because you know, she’s the sister of the bride-to-be, and I’m her new boyfriend. Being newly devoted to each other in a most loving and committed relationship, we expect to be making love to each other . . . all night. I hope your rooms are soundproofed.”
Heat climbs into Sam’s cheeks. Even the receptionist flushes slightly.
“Of course, Mr. Morton. You are free to, uh, be as uninhibited as you wish.”
Sam feels like crawling into her suitcase and locking herself up in there.
Cassie grins and nudges her.
“No worries,” she whispers, “slavery has its perks, remember?”
*
Sam doesn’t feel remotely like a mistress to her purported slave when they take the elevator up to their room. Her double room is on the third floor, east wing, while Cassie’s and Caleb’s are on the second.
She’s now alone with Brian Morton. Her betraying cheeks are still flushed.
Brian inserts the key into the lock. It’s one of those old-fashioned brass keys which she would find quaint if the situation were any different.
Gawd! How did she ever think she could pull this off? She – who can’t even lie effectively to Mr. Hughes when she was caught smoking a joint in twelfth grade.
Brian says, “Would you like me to carry you over the threshold and throw you onto the bed?”
Why is everything he says tinged with a layer of obvious sarcasm?
“No thanks. But you can carry my bags, lover boy.”
OK, that didn’t come out right. If Cassie had said that, it would have been polished and quippy and zesty, kind of like lemon punch. Out of Sam’s mouth, it just seems rehearsed and trite, as if she’s a not particularly good stage actress who hasn’t mastered her lines.