"Miss?"
Marie turned around and looked at the man who was addressing her.
He looked down at his clipboard, "Are you Marie O'Connell?"
Marie nodded hesitantly.
"And your apartment-," he looked down once more at his clip board and then back at Marie, "-is 1803?"
"Yea," his suit indicated that he must be an agent from the insurance company, who else would be wearing a suit at 2 in the morning. "Well Ah mean it was." She looked up at a hole in the top of the building. A hole was an understatement; it was more like the ruins of a disaster. Her apartment, her home, her safe haven burnt down to unrecognizable ashes.
"Yes," he cleared his throat, "Well, I just have to clear a few things back at the company but it seems that you will be compensated and the owner said he will be rebuilding as soon as he can."
"H-How long will that take?" Marie looked over his shoulder and watched the fire chief clap and shout orders to rally the withering stamina of the well past fatigued firemen. They had spent the past hour battling against one of Mother Nature's most powerful forces.
But with the proficiency each possessed, the precision of each maneuver, the overall collaboration they had based upon the death defying experiences they faced together and trust they merited from one another, the team acted as a force against the fire. Within minutes of their arrival, they tamed the searing fire into a mere rebellious flame that refused to die down. Just too bad they couldn't save her apartment from its destructive path.
"Well," he looked up at the damaged building, a thick cloud of black smoke tunneled from it signifying the fire's defeat, "It's going to be a lot of work. . . . It really just depends on what's the weather like. Could be about," he whistled in calculation, "Any where between 2 to 8 months, 9 maybe."
"That's a pretty big difference in estimation," she returned her attention back to him.
"Well, the only serious damage was your apartment and your neighbors...but most likely they're going to start off with the little project firsts. ...Routine things, you know, clean the smell of smoke out, repair the apartments below yours that suffered water and smoke damage.... repair the foundation so they can start rebuilding," he listed.
"Do yah know what caused the fire?" she shifted the purse's weight on her shoulder.
"Not definitely but your neighbor's said that their cat knocked a candle over in their apartment while they were um," he coughed, "busy."
Marie nodded and looked back at the crowd. The two were huddled together arms around each other, whispering to one another. Marie glanced around at her other neighbors scattered everywhere. Families, lovers, and roommates, clung to one another as they watched the fire die down.
Marie looked at them and then at herself. If she wasn't so tired she might have laughed at how pathetic she looked.
Her situation reminded her of the question. If you were stranded on a desert island what three items would you take with you?
And everyone answers were almost identical. Books. A Cd player complete with Cds. And of course, some one to talk to. Now, this was where the answers would slightly vary. Some would pick a celebrity. While others would pick their best friends or family members. And the rest would pick their current lover.
But instead of being stranded on a deserted island, the question would be adapted to her current situation. What items of yours would you rescue from a burning building?
Her neighbors rescued their pets and the ones they lived with. And that was all they needed. What they held most important in their lives.
And Marie...well....she rescued her dog that was now laying at her feet asleep, her purse filled with her medications and money, a laptop filled with stories she wrote that she hated, and a picture of her dad. It was funny how these four items said so much about her life and yet so little of who she was.
"You might want to go and get checked out by the paramedics," the man suggested.
"No, Ah'm fine...Ah got out before it got real bad." It was true; her neighbors, who owned the apartment where the fire originated, banged on the four other doors on the floor yelling for help. By the time, anyone answered his or her door it was too late; the fire could not be put out by a mere fire extinguisher. Then the fire alarm pierced through the air, indicating the severity of the situation.
Fortunately everyone obeyed and retreated out of the building safely onto the street. Marie was one of the last to evacuate out of the building; her arms were still sore from carrying her 35-pound bulldog down the numerous flights of stairs. The pain in her arms reminded her to cut back on the leftovers she always gave Buster to eat.
"Are you sure, they could just do a real quick check-over?" he asked again out of politeness.
"How come the sprinklers weren't set off?" she asked, not bothering answering his question again.
"Yes, that was certainly strange they didn't go off.... We aren't sure right now, but the investigators will figure that out soon enough."
Marie nodded and looked over his shoulder once more. The fire fighters scattered everywhere, gathering up fallen tools and surveying the damage the fire caused.
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
"Hm?" Marie responded, being drawn out of her thoughts.
"Do you have anywhere to go?" he repeated his question.
"Oh, Ah'll be just fine," she responded with a half smile.
"Ok, well take this," he handed her his business card, "Call us, when you get settled in somewhere and leave us a forwarding number so we can keep you updated."
"Sure," Marie took the card and dropped it into the abyss of her purse. They parted ways and Marie tugged on the leash, causing Buster to unwillingly wake and follow her as she began walking down the street looking for a hotel.
Room Service.
Service that is renowned for never sleeping.
A Spa and Fitness Center just a few floors away.
Clean sheets every day.
Fresh flowers every morning.
Anything she wanted was just a call away.
A restaurant and bar located on the base floor.
Yes, living in a hotel was starting to look very appealing to Marie.
She smiled as she looked across her bed, and there lying in the middle of the king size bed was Buster. He was flat on his back, fast asleep snoring rather loudly. Something she envied he could do so easily.
She sighed and slipped on her shoes. She felt the only way to entertain herself was to check out the bar that was conveniently located a few floors below hers. Marie didn't even bother looking at herself in the mirror before she left her hotel room; she was pretty confident that she would probably be the only one in the bar at this wee hour in the morning.
Besides, she needed to drink in the memory of her home. And black sweats and a ponytail would do just fine on this occasion.
She quickly made her way down to the main floor and walked across the spectacular lobby room destined for the bar room.
"Aw, chere," a voice echoed through the large room.
The voice was so foreign yet familiar enough to cause Marie to stop and quickly scan the room. Marie took deep breaths trying to calm her racing heart and finally concluded that she must have been hearing things and looked towards the check in desk to make sure the employees didn't see her making a fool of herself, yet again.
That was when she saw him. Remy. She had to do a double take just to make sure it really was him. But there was no denying it.
It was him.
The person she thought she would never see again. Marie felt like she had the wind knocked out of her; she couldn't catch her breath. There he was, just as she remembered him, complete with the same trench coat. He leaned on his forearms on the counter and was talking to the hotel clerks. Their voices were too low for Marie to listen to what they were saying. But Marie didn't care she was just grateful his back was towards her.
At that moment a woman in a fur shawl walked over to Remy and latched herself to his side. Latched was the only work Marie thought was accurate enough to describe her actions and could only compare the woman's actions to one of a leech latching on to skin. Unwanted and sickening to anyone who was watching.
Remy did not falter in his conversation with the clerks but did wrap his arm around the woman's shoulders.
Marie got a good look at the woman while Remy was busy talking. She was beautiful. Long, black hair, perfect completion, flawless make up, and a body to die for. She had long legs that were shown off by the slits in her overly priced dress. She held herself with poise and dignity, while Marie was hunched over. Her dress was cinched in the middle to flaunt her petite waist. And Marie's hand self-consciously went to her own hips. Her aunt had once put it that she should "embrace her beautiful body. To not be self-conscious about it. That her hips were the perfect size to bear many children with."
Marie rolled her eyes at that memory. Telling a sixteen-year-old girl that her big hips were great to bear children with was very unhelpful; needless to say her aunt didn't really comfort Marie with her supposed compliments. Marie sighed. She finally did manage to embrace her voluptuous body but that didn't mean she could squeeze her big hips into the size 6 dress this woman was in.
Marie shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Why the hell was she comparing herself to this woman? But she didn't have time to analyze herself for an answer because Remy was now turning around.
Marie reacted like a convict being spotted breaking out of jail by a big spotlight. Freezing against the wall, as if she didn't move they wouldn't see her. But then she came to her senses and pivoted on her right foot, looking for a way out.
She felt like a lost unarmed soldier caught in no man's land, trying to hide from the incoming enemy. The elevator was too far a way to make a break for and she would probably be seen. Besides, that was probably where they were heading anyway.
She quickly pivoted to her left and decided that the large pillars would hopefully provide some cover as she made a break for the bar room.
She quickly walked, with a couple of hops in her step, towards the dark bar room, debating whether or not she should turn around and see if he saw her. But in the end she applied the 'Don't look down' rule so many people failed to follow when they were at a considerable distance from the ground and changed it to a 'Don't look back' rule. Looking back would only complicate things even more.
If he had noticed her, he failed to recognize her, and Marie was slightly grateful for that.
There was no way she would allow him to see her like this, especially not with that pretty date on his arm. Besides, she wouldn't have any clue as to what to say or how to react to him.
"Here's tah mah desk lamp," she raised her glass in the air before taking a shot. It had been twenty minutes since her sighting of Remy and so far she had downed shots of vodka in memory of her bed, her two televisions, her desk, her couch, the three paintings on her living room wall, and the Oriental rug she bought at a flea market.
Of all the hotels in New York City why did she have to check in the one Remy was staying at? And just exactly who was that woman he was with? But more importantly, how was she supposed to feel about seeing him again? Or what was she supposed to do now?
She would worry about that later, right now she had important things to do like give a toast to her—"Toaster, here's to mah toaster," she mumbled to herself and didn't even bother to raise her glass in honor, just downed the shot. She was glad the bartender gave her the bottle of vodka while he was busy cleaning up the place, flipping the chairs and setting them down on the tables so it would be easier for the maids to clean in the morning.
Marie set down the bottle and shot glass on the bar to take a breather; she didn't want to get drunk, she just wanted to get buzzed enough to take the edge off her.
"Evenin' chere," a husky voice cut through the silence of the empty bar.
Marie flailed her arms above her head and jumped. She swirled around on the stool with her hand over her heart as if placing her hand there would stop her heart from jumping out of her chest. "Jesus Christ, Remy," she panted, "Yah scared the fucking crap out of me," she continued to struggle to regain her breath.
That wasn't the poetic greeting she wished she had given him. But she wasn't prepared to see him let alone have him sneak up on her. And it always seemed that whoever or whatever she tried to avoid always did find her.
"Sorry, Marie," he smiled, "Y' sure know how t' greet a fella wit a line like dat."
"Yea well, yah sure know how tah scare some one out of their wits."
"Well I do what I can," he shrugged while putting his hands in the pockets of his trench coats, "It's been a long time, chere."
"Yea what, four, five months?" she lied. She knew exactly how long it has been.
"Somet'ing like dat," he shrugged, "So how've y' been?"
"Never better," she replied nonchalantly. She swirled back to face the bar and leaned against it.
He waited for her to return the formality and inquire about his well-being; he smiled when he realized she wasn't going to, she definitely wasn't making this easy. He walked over to the bar, sat down on the stool beside her and leaned on his forearms against it. "Still taking de pills?" he glanced sideways at her.
"Still smoking?" she turned and met his gaze.
"Fair enough," he nodded.
Silence fell over the two, each trying to think of something to say.
Remy was the first to speak, "Y' haven't changed, chere, still beautiful."
She looked down at her sweats and then glanced at her reflection in the gold trim of the edge of the bar. She looked horrible but she knew he was just being polite.
"Ah can say the same for yah." It was true; he hadn't changed at all, he was still if not more handsome than he was before. Then she smiled at what they both said; they were talking as if they expected each other to change drastically in the seven months they were apart.
"What?" he grinned, "I haven't changed or I'm beautiful?"
"Take yahr pick," she shrugged. It was puzzling to her how she could maintain this cool and confident composure when inside she was a hurricane of conflicting emotions. It would only be a matter of time before she would ruin it.
"I'll take it as both then."
Marie slightly swiveled on the stool towards him, to get a better angle, "What are yah doing here?"
Remy leaned closer to her, "T'ought dat was obvious."
Marie blushed and was thankful the shadows made it impossible for him to see the rosy color that now adorned her cheeks. "Ah meant, what are yah doing up here in New York?"
"I know what y' meant," he leaned in closer to her, and no was only a few inches away from her ear.
Marie rolled her eyes at his attempt to charm his way out of her question, "How did yah know Ah was in here?"
"I saw y'. Y' did a little tap dancing t'ing den ran out of de room like a bat out o' hell."
"Yah saw, uh, that?" and slowly a piece of her confident façade fell to the ground.
Remy nodded, "Oui. Dat little show y' put on, now dat had not'in t' do wit me, right? Y' wouldn't be avoiding me right, chere?"
"Huh?....me....what?...avoiding yah?" she forced a laugh, "No, no...ppffft," she waved her hand dismissively as if it was the most preposterous question she had ever heard, "No, ..no... Ah'm not avoiding yah....no sir-y Bob...no, no," she trailed off as she looked down and inspected her hand. And there it was. The breaking moment. Her confident, strong composure crumbled to the ground, laying at the feet of a now babbling idiot.
She actually had to bite her tongue to stop herself from uttering anymore lame phrases; she would have died of mortification if she had uttered a "no way Jos" in her ramblings. But a "no sir-y Bob", how the hell was she supposed to recover from that?
He smiled at her with a mischievous glint in his eye, "So yo' were avoiding me?"
"Um," Marie paused to choose her words delicately, "Well, if Ah was avoiding yah, Ah wouldn't be here now making a big ass out of myself." So much for delicately.
Remy chuckled, "I wouldn't say-"
"Ahem, Remy," a feminine voice called from the entrance of the dark room.
Remy and Marie both turned around to see who interrupted; it was the woman he was with earlier.
"Remy," she called again causing Remy to groan slightly, he could have been clearing his throat, but it was Marie's wishful thinking that believed he let out a groan.
"Oui," he simply responded.
"I've been looking for you all over and then I find you down here. You said you were only going to be a couple of minutes. You know I don't like being alone in that room for too long," she crossed her arms and made it apparent that she was trying not to acknowledge Marie.
"I'll be right up."
"Wha-"
He cut her off before she could protest, "I said I'll be right up, chere."
The mature woman, who just radiated sophistication, acted like a two year old being scolded by her father. She turned around, let out a huff, and stomped away mumbling something about how she was going to make him pay later.
He let out a sigh and then turned to face Marie, "Uh, what was I saying?" It was very rare that he lost track of his thought.
"Ah don't remember," she shrugged and turned around to face the bar again, "But Ah think this is the part where yah chase down yahr girlfriend before she throws another tantrum."
"Oui but I t'ink dat's after de part y' tell me t' have a good life....again," he teased.
"Oh Lawrd," she hid her face in her hands and rested her elbows on the bar, "Yah're never going tah let me live that down, are yah?" She shook her head in disbelief.
"Maybe, but de cab driver-"
"What? The cab driver? He's telling people too?" Her hands flew from her face and the volume of her voice was a lot louder than she intended it to be causing the bartender to stop what he was doing and stare at Marie but she didn't notice him.
"Only de people who listen," Remy pointed out; he seemed to be enjoying watching Marie try to regain her wits.
Marie was beyond mortification; her jaw dropped and her arms fell limply at her sides.
"Take it easy. I'm just kiddin, chere," he finally allowed himself to show the smile he had been fighting to hide.
"Yah just enjoy making me look like an ass," she remarked running her hands through her hair, still trying to regain her composure.
"Only sometimes," he said with a lopsided smile and was rewarded with a light smack on the arm from Marie.
"Let's just forget about that and blame it on a momentary lapse of sanity," she paused, "Besides yah should pity the babbling idiots that don't reuse smooth lines like yah do."
"Oh, chere," he held his hands over his heart and contorted his face, mocking a look of pain, "Yo' words cut deep."
"If only," she crossed her legs away from him. "So how long have yah and yahr girlfriend been together?" she asked, feigning interest in her voice.
"Let's not talk bout 'er. I haven' seen you in six and a half months." Marie's heart began to flutter uncontrollably when he said that. He actually knew exactly how long it was since they had last seen each other and now she felt better that she wasn't the only one that did.
"-I'd like t' catch up wit y', see how everyt'ing's going," he paused waiting for her response.
"Ah don't think tonight would be good. Yahr girlfriend's waitin for yah and Ah have..."
"T'ings t' do?" he asked lightheartedly.
"Must yah parrot all mah awkward lines back tah me?" she questioned while folding her arms in front her.
He chuckled, "Oh, chere, dey're just too good t' let go."
" This coming from a guy who reuses his lines more than an old man reuses his handkerchief during the flu season." Not the best come back, but it was the only one Marie could think of.
"Dat's a lovely visual, chere," he chuckled, "Well, we don't have t' play catch up t'night. I'm stayin here fo' a couple more days and it be nice t' see a friendly face in dis cold city."
"Ah doubt yah could get any friendly than yahr girlfriend," Marie realized that she kept bringing that woman into the conversation and stopped from continuing her sentence. Instead, she nodded, "Ok. It definitely makes it easier that we're both staying in the same hotel. What room are yah staying in?"
"De top floor."
"Oh, the presidential suite. Aren't yah just the big spender?"
"Only de best, chere, only de best....What room are y' stayin in?" he returned the question.
"Um....Ah don't," she remembered her card key that was laying next to the bottle of vodka and picked it up, "Uh, 2210," she read the number off the card.
Remy nodded, "Well here's m' card. Call me when y' get a chance. Yo'll have a better chance of reaching me at dis number den de one fo' my room," and with a flick of his wrist the card appeared in his hand. He held it out for Marie; her fingers gently grazed his when she clutched the card.
She smiled and angled the card so she could read it in the faint light the bar lights provided. She laughed. "Well, Ah see yah never leave home without it," she flipped the card over; it was identical to the one he had given her in New Orleans. She wondered just exactly how many copies of the card he had and to how many women he gave his card to.
"Always hafta be prepared," he winked.
"Now, there's the Boy Scout Ah remember," she smiled as laid the card next to her card key to her room.
"Hope dat's not de only t'ing y' remember," his tone complete with his smirk, could turn any phrase into a sexual one.
"Only time will tell..." she playfully replied.
"Oui..." he sat with his back against the bar and his elbows resting on top of it. He watched as the bartender continued to wipe down the tables. "Doesn't get real crowded in here."
Marie looked over her shoulder and noticed that they were the only ones in there besides the bartender who was busy whistling while he worked, "Well it is," she glanced down at her watch, "almost four in the morning."
"Dat's all?" he looked over his shoulder at her, "I t'ought dis was the city dat never sleeps."
"This is a hotel. All people do here is sleep."
"Well, I wouldn't say that's all they do."
"And you would know," her tone was a lot harsher than she meant it to be.
"Yea, well," he ran his hand through his messy hair, "Yo' got m' card, how bout y' use it dis time, hein?" he stood up. "I best be going."
"Yea.." Marie replied and twisted around on the bar stool to face him.
He stood there debating over how he should say goodbye. He could give her a hug, but that kind of seemed too force and fake. He could give her a kiss on the cheek or forehead but that reminded him of kissing his aunts. Shaking her hand was out of the question. So was kissing her or the back of her hand, they weren't ready for that yet. Instead he opted with a simple wave and a, "Hope t' see y' round."
"Yea," Marie agreed. Remy nodded and turned around.
She poured herself another shot and raised the glass to Remy's retreating form and whispered, "And here's tah not looking back..."
Well, like always I hope you liked/enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to reread this chapter so I bet there are errors which I will correct when I get a chance.
Thank you for the reviews! It's always the highlight of my day to read them, it's up there with watching Michael Phelps swim, -sigh-, anyway--
I'm oh so curious as to what you thought of this chapter, so please leave me a review and share your thoughts!