Page 50 of Considering Us

I tried not to roll my eyes. “I’m here for work. Plus, we’re going to be in downtown LA at a Residence Inn close to where the Clippers play. Nowhere near the beach. I need to check into the hotel and check to make sure all the food is there.”

“They bring you the food?” Heath picked up a magazine out of the seat pocket and began flipping through it, and I wanted to grab it out of his big hands and maybe smack him on the top of his head with it, Dorothy-on-Golden-Girls-style. Heath had never irritated me before.Why now?

“Yes, I pay the hotel staff. Really, David’s mom does–and they stock the refrigerator and cabinets before I get there. Or they are supposed to. It doesn’t always work out perfectly. That’s why I go early enough to check, and then I can always run over to Whole Foods if necessary. David won’t get in with the team until late, but the staff at his hotel knows to expect me. I drop off something in his fridge for when he gets there, and then I go back tomorrow with what he needs before the game.”

“Pretty high maintenance,” Heath said, putting several pieces of gum into his mouth and then chewing loudly. Whatwasthis? It was like I was sitting next to a stranger.

“I’ve been working for wealthy people for a while now,” I said as evenly as I could. “I try not to judge and instead focus on doing what is needed to keep them happy.”

“Like that other client you had?” he asked with a laugh, and I could not believe my ears.Is he referring to Bentley Preston? He is!

“That had nothing to do with money,” I said, now seething. “How dare you bring him or that situation up! I don’t bring up women you’ve dated. That tobacco-chewing waitress sounded like a real catch.”

“Easy, easy,” he said. “Don’t get all weird on me.”

“I’m anything but weird,” I said, standing up after the flight attendant pressed the chime to signal it was time to deplane. “The only reason you’re here right now or going to a basketball game on the freaking floor is because of me.”

He put his hand on my lower back, and I flinched. I really didn’t want him touching me. “Sorry, Devon. I’m just tired. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Tired? You slept for almost seven hours!” I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment and walked down the aisle to the jet bridge, not caring if he joined me or not. Of course, he did.

Everything was ready for us at the hotel except for the tortillas for David’s steak wrap. The staff shopper had left rice paper wraps like someone would use to make spring rolls. We needed to go to the store.

“Can’t we just use these instead?” Heath asked, examining the package.

“They’ll fall apart. David doesn’t want a delicate appetizer. He wants steak and peppers and onions and provolone in a sturdy tortilla. Trust me.”

“That’s how it goes, right? Devon’s way or no way at all, huh?” Heath was already in his swim trunks and sunglasses, and I realized he wasn’t there to help me or be my partner in anything I was doing. He was taking his vacation in California, and that’s how he was treating the time. I had completely overestimated him.

“I don’t hop into an ambulance and tell people what to do. That’s your job, and this is mine,” I said. “Go to the pool. Enjoy yourself. I’m going to the grocery, and then I’m coming back and making David the late-night food he wants after a flight. And then I’m going over to the Ritz-Carlton and dropping everything off. I’ll probably get something to eat for myself after that. You’re welcome to go off on your own and do whatever. I don’t care.”

“I’m not sure who you are, but you’re not the fun Devon I knew back in New Hampshire,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I guess you’re seeing the real me,” I conceded. “Take it or leave it.” He didn’t say anything in response, so I grabbed my purse and the hotel key. “See you later,” I said, walking out thedoor and heading directly to the elevator. He didn’t try to stop me.

23

Hotel bars are a rare guilty pleasure for me. The last time I had ducked into one was, of course, right after Bentley and I got caught, and everything changed, but before then, I enjoyed the occasional pop into the Charles Hotel in Harvard Square or the Fairmont Copley. There is something about being somewhat anonymous in an upscale setting that has always felt exciting. When it’s just me, sitting at the bar, sipping a drink, chatting a bit with the bartender or a fellow bar patron, I can be whoever I want to be. After an early morning and my disastrous day of flying and dealing with Heath, followed by preparing a meal for David to eat when he eventually got to the hotel, there was nothing I wanted more than to be whoever I felt like being perched atop a gorgeous barstool at the Ritz-Carlton.

I must have been perusing the cocktail menu for a long time because I soon felt eyes on me from behind the bar. I looked up and saw an older, gray-haired gentleman—my best guess was mid-sixties—drying a rocks glass with a bar towel and smiling gently. “What do you enjoy drinking?” he asked in a way that seemed genuine and almost loving.

Just the way he said it, I felt cared for in a way I hadn’t been in so long. Tam always gave me that sense of home and understanding, but I hadn’t found it in many other places. I knew it was the bartender’s job, and part of working in an upscale place was talking to customers on a personal level—Ihad done the same thing for years in restaurants—but at that moment, he appeared in front of me like some sort of guardian angel. It overwhelmed me to the point that I fought back tears. I had no idea what had come over me.

“Um, well, this is going to sound really basic,” I said, pushing the menu back toward him.

He smiled again. “I’ve heard everything, Devon.”

Taken aback, I stared at him, searching his face for any recognition.Who is this guy?“How did you know my name is Devon?”

He gestured to my ID badge that was connected to a lanyard that I had tossed onto the bar counter when I sat down. I wore it whenever I did anything on the road for David. His mom had it made early in our arrangement to make me look official—and so fewer people would question a woman delivering a home fry and bacon skillet to a basketball player’s hotel room for when he got off his flight. “Oh yeah. That’s me.” I looked back at the smiling face on the badge and barely recognized her. It felt like a lifetime since I took that picture. Way too much had happened in my life. “I love whiskey sours,” I said, scrunching up my mouth in a bit of embarrassment. The cocktail menu was full of complex concoctions featuring things like green chartreuse, falernum, absinthe, and rums of various degrees of aging and levels of spice. I felt like I was ordering a fuzzy navel at Buckingham Palace or something like that.

“I got you,” he said, deftly grabbing a bottle of Angel’s Envy. It brought me right back to another Ritz, 3,000 miles away, when I drank a whiskey sour with the same exact liquor after Adrienne had walked in on Bentley and me.What had I even been thinking?Adrienne was now an important presence in my life. I hated that I had done that to her.

A few minutes later, the bartender handed me the drink. “I’m Charlie, by the way. I hope this works for you.”

“My mom always said I would be Charlie if I had been a boy,” I said, taking a sip. “Oh, this is really good. There’s something slightly different. What’d you do?” I detected a slight variation from the flavor profile I was used to when I made them myself, even with fresh lemon juice, homemade simple syrup, and good bourbon like this.

“Two things,” he said, holding up two fingers. “Meyer lemon juice, which mellows the acid a bit, and a rich demerara syrup instead of just simple. You looked like you needed something better than what you’re used to.”

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