Page 88 of Push & Pull
I’m staying in town until I know for sure what my fate is. We’re not supposed to meet, but there’s this hotel downtown called The Grand. I’m sure you know it since it’s historical and made for rich people. It’s easy enough for me to get a room. Meet me in the bar tomorrow night.
Let’s start over. For real, this time. I miss you.”
Simone’s tea had cooled by the time she put down the note and rejoined the world. Her mind was aloof with what-ifs and could-bes. Not to mention the flood of memories that came back to her. The first good thing to remind her of something nice since everything went down the shitter.
I miss you…
Those words haunted her more than anything else. She wasn’t shocked that Petra had reached out to her or even said she wanted to meet in secret. ButI miss you?What was she supposed to do with that?
Was she supposed to believe it?
Was she supposed to throw the last of her sanity away?
Simone paced before her bed, knocking the sweater off the back of the couch and onto the floor. She bent down to pick it up. Although Meredith was correct that it really needed to be washed, Simone didn’t have the heart. Not as long as she still smelled a hint of Petra in the collar or along the pocket seams.
“When you know,”she heard Elena’s voice in the back of her head say,“you’ll know.”
Simone was too choked up to face the sweater that she now tossed onto the bed. Instead, she faced her mother’s portrait, wondering what she would have said about all of this.
I can barely remember her voice, let alone guess what she would say.
Simone sat on the edge of her bed. She had a day and a half to decide. Did she want to be with Petra… or was it best to leave well enough alone?
Petra had her work cut out for her once she put her new plan into motion. While her lawyers left her alone at night, she had to wait for the fancy one to pack up his things, look over the apartment, and leave before getting ready to meet Simone in the nearby hotel bar.Assuming she comes.Petra had to believe, though.
Luckily, her lawyers didn’t ask questions when she ordered hair dye to be delivered the night before. Her brown hair soon turned black before she trimmed her bangs and over her ears. The nape of her neck was the hardest part, and her lawyers refused to help her when they arrived that morning. While the fancy one talked about what would happen if charges continued forward as usual, Petra held up a mirror with one hand and looked in the bathroom mirror over her shoulder as she trimmed her hair to the best of her abilities.
Didn’t look too bad, honestly.
She didn’t do her makeup, since she didn’t want to stand out. That was the same thinking behind putting on drab colors, although her clothes were nice enough to enter The Grand. Her slacks were good enough for court, at least. A lacy white blouse was easily hidden by the gray blazer she had picked up in the New York thrift store. Luckily for Petra, the budget hotel where she was last staying had saved her luggage and other belongings after she was arrested.
Although she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror long enough to get cold feet, Petra reminded herself that she had faced more dire situations before.
Definitely more dangerous ones, but this was a bit different. This might be the future she faced.
She had picked The Grand for two reasons (or three, if she were honest with herself.) The first was its ease of access to the rest of the city. As a centrally located hotel for those with means, The Grand offered security, privacy, and plenty of exits. The second was that the clientele was posh enough to know to mind their business and pay no mind to a regionally famous heiress having a drink with someone else whose face had been on TV lately. Because, at some point, Petra would have to remove her face mask to drink.
The third, if she were honest? Hotel bars were her playgrounds. She knew the perfect approaches, pickups, and what drinks to buy to impress a mark.
Except the woman sitting at the far end of the bar wasn’t a mark. She was Simone, the woman Petra hadn’t stopped thinking about since that fateful night in New York City.
I was not prepared.No amount of rehearsing readied Petra for the tall woman leaning against the bar, her slender legs clad in black while her feet poked out in three-inch heels. The matching jacket was a nice touch, but what interested Petra the most was the short-sleeved sweater beneath.Red, my favorite color.Three big buttons accentuated Simone’s chest. A single coral-colored stone dipped toward her cleavage, held in place by a thick black string.
Fingers with precise movements picked up a stout glass of whiskey. Petra couldn’t tell what brand from where she stood, but she knew most of them by scent. Too bad her nerves were flaring the closer she came to the woman who didn’t have to be there at all.
“You look like you’re waiting for somebody.”
Simone’s head slightly turned toward Petra. While recognition flashed in her eyes, Simone was not quick to respond to Petra’s comment.
“Yes and no. What’s it to you?”
Petra helped herself to the stool next to Simone.Reminds me of when I approached her in the New York club.That had been the last night they were happy together – back when they dodged topics like what would happen to them once they reached New England.If only we knew.Petra was glad she didn’t. Having that hanging over her head while she traveled with Simone? That was true cruelty.
Petra ordered a rum and Coke. As she tapped the straw against the bottom of her glass, she said, “Maybe I should have said it differently. You look like you’re waiting forsomeone.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A body is impersonal. A ‘one’ evokes emotions. So…” Petra lowered her mask now that her back was turned to most of the cameras in the room. “Are you waiting for someone?”
