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Locked Out - Second Run
"Are you done yet, Belle?" Ariel called from the rooftop, the suddenness of her summons almost making Belle take her eye out with her mascara wand. "You've got to come out here and see this, the view's amazing!"
It was Ariel's first time in New York City, and Belle could forgive her friend being excited having spent most of her life on the Maine coast and only recently moving to Boston to join the firm. Had they been here on a holiday, Belle would probably have shared her enthusiasm, but as it was, they were here in a professional capacity, attending a large and lucrative publishing conference in their capacity as personal assistants to Ursula and Ella. And naturally, whenever it came to extremely high profile events, Belle was terrified of something going incredibly wrong. At this, the welcome dinner on the first night before the conference began in earnest, there was even more capacity for things to go wrong than normal. It was their first conference. Ariel had spent weeks trying to memorise all the most important CEOs who would be in attendance so she knew who to avoid for fear of standing on their feet or causing some other gross embarrassment. Belle, on the other hand, knew that no amount of avoidance would stop trouble from finding her if it wanted to, so she had spared herself the trouble.
Taking another critical glance in the mirror, Belle finally deemed her hair and make-up perfect and she crossed the room to go out onto the roof and give in to Ariel’s squealing.
“I can’t believe we’re here!” Ariel said, clapping her hands together in excitement. “And I can’t believe we got a room on the top floor! How amazing is that? Ursula and Ella must really love us.”
“I think it’s just because they also have a room on the top floor and they didn’t want us to feel badly done-to,” Belle observed. “But I agree, it’s a lovely view… Ariel, what’s up?”
In the few seconds that it had taken Belle to walk across the roof to her friend, her expression had gone from gleefully enthusiastic to bleached horror.
“You let the door close,” Ariel said faintly. “It was wedged for a reason…”
Belle glanced behind her to see the closed balcony, and a cold feeling of dread began to bubble up in the pit of her stomach. There was no way of getting back into the room from the outside, no handle on the door. She turned back to Ariel, who was wringing her hands.
“Now what do we do?” she asked. “Did you bring your phone? Can we call Ella and Ursula for help? Which is their room? Maybe we could knock on their door.”
Belle shook her head. “They’ve already gone down to clean out the bar before dinner. And no, I didn’t bring my phone out here.”
Ariel made a noise of panicked frustration, waving her arms around before taking a deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm down.
“Ok, ok, don’t panic, we can fix this. We just have to…” She tailed off and looked at Belle, her eyes pleading. “Belle, what are we going to do? We’re going to be stuck out here for the rest of our lives!”
Belle rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take people that long to realise that we’re missing,” she said levelly.
“But what if we end up missing dinner?” Ariel said. “We’ll bring shame and disgrace upon the company and Ella and Ursula will fire us on the spot!”
Belle shook her head and was about to say something to try and reassure her frantic friend when she saw it, the window to the room across the roof from theirs. It was open a little bit. Maybe, if she could open it a bit more, she could get inside. She pattered across the roof; the gauze modesty drapes were drawn across the window and the closed balcony door like in all the other rooms and she could not see anything, but she bent down to listen at the open slit. She couldn't hear any signs of life, and tentatively she slipped her fingers into the gap and pushed the sash up a little bit further before listening again.
She could hear the shower running. The room was occupied. But whoever was occupying it was in the bathroom and therefore not in the bit of the room that she was going to be in. With any luck, she could get in, get across the room to the door, and get out before the shower turned off. It was risky, she would admit that. But there wasn't really any other option right now. She glanced back at Ariel, who had followed her across the roof.
"All right, I'm going in. I’ll get a spare key from the concierge and come let you into our room.”
Ariel's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"I've got a window and I'm taking it," Belle said, unironically pushing up the sash the rest of the way so that she could squeeze through the window. "Here, hold these."
She kicked off her shoes and handed them to Ariel before scrambling through the aperture and slipping off the windowsill to land lightly on the plush carpet. As she pulled the window back down (a task much easier now that she was actually in the room), she saw Ariel cross herself and raise her eyes to heaven.
The shower was still running, and Belle glanced around the room for a moment before locking her eyes on the door. It was a much nicer room than the one she and Ariel were sharing. There was actually room to move around in it, and it had a proper upholstered chair. A chair that was playing host to discarded clothing that very obviously belonged to a man. She'd broken into a strange man's hotel room whilst he was in the shower. Perfect. As if this evening could get any worse.
She tiptoed across the room, and she saw with dismay, on the desk, a large welcome folder of the same kind that she and Ariel had been presented with when they had arrived at the hotel for the conference. Well, it was hardly surprising, to be honest, it was a big conference with a lot of delegates and the hotel was probably fully-booked with people attending. All the same, everything in this scenario seemed to be conspiring against her. She shook the thought to the back of her mind, reminding herself that time was of the essence and she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and start getting out of here. She crept across the room and reached the door. Naturally, it was locked, the chain drawn across. The shower was still running, that would cover her, surely...
Belle froze as she heard the shower shut off, slowly turning round in a manner reminiscent of horror films as she heard the shower curtain pull back, and her brain went into overdrive. People didn't usually come straight out of the shower into the bedroom, right? Most normal people dried themselves a bit first so that they didn't drip everywhere. So she still had a minute or so to get out of the room. Unfortunately the lack of shower noise would mean that the sound of her unlocking and opening the door would not be muffled. Would he be able to hear it from the bathroom and come out to investigate?
Belle pressed herself flat against the door in a feeble attempt at staying out of sight, and fumbled for the lock. If she was very quiet, and very careful, then hopefully the room's occupant would be none the wiser. Except for the fact his door was suddenly no longer locked and chained. Maybe he wouldn't notice that. Perhaps he was as scatterbrained as she was.
She had found the lock and had just begun to turn it slowly when the bathroom door opened and her heart leapt to her throat. Belle closed her eyes, clapping a hand over her mouth and nose as if that would make her any less visible, but after a few seconds she opened them again, thinking that it would be best to face these things head on.
When she did open her eyes, she had to bite down on her hand to stop herself from squealing with shock.
The room's occupant had emerged from the steamy bathroom and was drying off, evidently not having looked in her direction and noticed her pressed against the door, half-hidden behind the closet. Belle froze, not daring to move a muscle lest she attract his attention.
Go back into the bathroom, go back into the bathroom, please…
The man did not go back into the bathroom and Belle continued to stand like a statue, one hand over her mouth as he rubbed the fluffy white towel over his bare skin and slightly greying hair. He was a small man, a little shorter than average and generally slender, a bit of middle-aged spread around his stomach. Early fifties, she’d peg him as, and she immediately cursed herself for thinking so much into this in such an inappropriate situation. She was in the man’s hotel room uninvited, a complete stranger, a voyeur eyeballing him nude whilst he was blissfully oblivious.
All the same, he did have a very lovely profile.
She tried not to let her eyes drift down to his midsection, but her gaze naturally followed his movement and snapped back up when he turned the towel’s attention to his privates. She should really close her eyes, but she wanted to know where he was in the room, if he turned his back and left her with an opportunity to escape.
There was a noise outside the window - Belle wondered if it was Ariel - and the man looked over, his movement stilling. Belle took advantage of the distraction to grope across the door for the lock again - because, usefully, she’d clapped the hand that had found the bolt previously over her mouth, like any sensible person would do. She twisted it slightly, but then the man’s attention came away from the window and he turned back to the room, tossing the towel into the bathroom before turning around fully and meeting her gaze.
For a split second there was nothing, and his face betrayed only shock. Then, as Belle remained frozen against the door, the shock in his eyes gave way to anger, and then just to fear, and he yanked the throw rug off the end of the bed, wrapping it tightly around his middle and never taking his widened eyes off her.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, gesturing towards her.
“I can explain,” Belle squeaked.
“If this is Jefferson’s idea of a joke, you can tell him from me that it is in exceedingly poor taste,” the man snarled. “Get out!”
“Don’t know a Jefferson,” Belle said, or at least tried to say, but her voice was lost in the face of the poor man’s anger.
“Get out!” he shouted again, but this time it was more of a plea than a threat. The embarrassment was rolling off him in waves. “Get the hell out!”
Belle finally regained movement, twisting the lock and turning to unhook the chain and open the door, racing through it and hearing it slam behind her, then a moment later the chain being drawn back and the lock clicking. She glanced behind her; the Do Not Disturb sign had fluttered off the door handle so she placed it back there before taking a few moments to calm her nerves, breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth, hands clenching into fists.
It was over. Done. She had got back into the hotel and now all she needed to do was go and get the concierge to let her back into her room so that she could rescue Ariel from the roof. Forget about what had just happened, that was in the past and it could not be altered.
She took another deep breath and rushed down the corridor towards the elevator. As she was riding down to the lobby, it occurred to her that she hadn’t apologised for her intrusion, and it really was warranted in the circumstances. A part of her brain figured that she would see him later in the evening at the welcome dinner and she could speak to him about it then, but the rest of her brain, the more dominant part, was attempting to steer clear of having any more interaction with the man whatsoever...
Ariel was hovering outside the balcony door when Belle finally opened it to let her in.
“Was it ok?” she asked, glancing across the roof towards the room that Belle had broken into.
“Yeah, it was fine,” Belle lied through her teeth. “He was in the shower.”
Well, it wasn’t entirely untruthful. He just hadn’t been in the shower for the entirety of her being in the room.
“OK.” Ariel paused. “How did you know it was a he?”
“People usually leave their clothes outside the bathroom when they take a shower, Ariel. It was pretty obvious.”
“Right.” Ariel accepted her explanation readily. “So, now what? There’s still a little while till dinner.”
“Bar,” Belle said without hesitation. She needed a drink after that misadventure.
X
Dinner was drawing ever closer and Belle and Ariel had already found their seats at their table. The ballroom was filling up with people, all of whom looked incredibly important and made Belle feel even more nervous that she already was. What if word had got round about her escapades? Thankfully no-one appeared to be looking in her direction. She glanced around the room nervously, looking out for the man from Room 2305, and she startled in her seat when she saw him talking to Ella and Ursula near the bar. Ella was waving her arms around in her usual exuberant style, and she and the unknown man appeared to be on good terms.
"Belle?" Ariel said. "Are you ok?"
Belle shook her head, nodded, and shook her head again before leaning in close to Ariel.
"Do you know who that is talking to Ella and Ursula?" she hissed under her breath.
"Yes, that's Mr Gold, he owns the Spindle publishing house. He and Ella have been friends for years, they were at college together."
In any other circumstances, Belle would simply have looked at her friend incredulously and asked how on earth she knew all these things. As it was, she felt a wave of icy discomfort flood her veins, a mixture of embarrassment and fear and the slightest touch of nausea.
"He'll be on our table, I was looking at the seating plan earlier. Ella will probably introduce us properly."
Belle leaned away from Ariel to look at the place card on her other side.
Raymond Gold, Spindle Press.
"Oh fuck," she said faintly.
"Belle?" Ariel pressed again. "Seriously Belle, are you ok? You don't look well."
Belle shook her head. "I need to get out of here," she mumbled.
"What's up, Belle, are you sick? You should go back to the room if you're sick, Ella and Ursula will understand."
Belle shook her head, although it would have been so easy to say that yes, she was sick, and she could just slip away with the minimum of fuss.
"It was his hotel room I broke into earlier," she muttered, her voice barely above a breath.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"It was Gold's hotel room that I broke into!" Belle whispered frantically. Ariel raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you said that the occupant was in the shower."
"Well, yes, he was in the shower when I got into the room, but then he got out of the shower. And out of the bathroom. And I was still in the room trying to get out."
Ariel glanced over at the man, looking him up and down, taking in the gold-handled cane, the tumbler of whiskey, the sharp tuxedo.
"Oh," was all that she said. "Was he... you know..."
"Yes."
"Oh." Ariel paused. "Not even a towel?"
Belle shook her head, and Ariel gave a giggling snort that she hastily hid behind her hands on seeing Belle’s mortified expression.
“I can’t let him see me,” Belle murmured, and Ariel grabbed her upper arm in an iron grip.
“You are not hiding under the table,” she said.
“No, I’m going to barricade myself in our room and not come out again for the entirety of the conference. Tell Ursula and Ella that I’ve got food poisoning or something.”
“Oh Belle, it’ll be fine. I’m sure this kind of thing happens all the time. Well,” she conceded on seeing Belle’s face, “maybe not this kind of thing. And maybe not all the time. But…”
“Ariel, I can’t talk to him!” Belle was beginning to panic; glancing over at the bar it looked like the conversation was coming to a close. Dinner was about to be served and they were going to come over to the table. She didn’t have long to make her escape, and her heart was pounding as fast as it had been whilst she’d been creeping through the hotel room. “We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms.”
“Well, he’s not going to kick up much of a fuss here, is he? He won’t make a public spectacle of himself or Ella. It’ll be fine, Belle.”
Belle shook her head. She was going to die of awkwardness and embarrassment if she had to sit next to this man for the next few hours and make business small talk, all the time remembering the confrontation in his hotel room. The memory made her eyes sting with tears; she had been too shocked and pumped on adrenaline to react at the time, but now the events were catching up with her.
Ariel’s expression melted into one of concern and sympathy and she released her grip, rubbing up and down Belle’s bare arms to comfort her.
“Was he horrible to you?” she asked.
Belle shook her head.
“Not really. He was just surprised and embarrassed and lashing out because of that. Still shook me up though. The situation. Not him physically; he didn’t come near me.”
“It’ll be ok,” Ariel said. They were coming over to the table now, there wasn’t going to be any chance of escape. “You can always talk to…” She looked down at the place card of the seat she was sitting in beside Belle’s; they would not be next to each other under the excuse of ‘mingling’. “... Jefferson Milliner.”
Belle remembered Gold’s remark about a Jefferson and wondered whether or not this would be a blessing or a curse.
“I heard my name?”
Belle startled and looked up to see a young man standing behind her chair. Ariel just smiled and slid into her own seat.
“Jefferson Milliner, pleased to meet you.” He held out a hand which Belle took.
“Belle French.”
“Ah, here they are,” Jefferson said as Ella, Ursula and Gold reached them; the other guests at the table were already seated. “Back from propping up the bar as usual, I see, Ella, Gold.”
Ella just laughed and rushed over to Jefferson to plant a loud kiss on each cheek without making physical contact. Belle glanced over at Gold. He hadn’t said anything, and he was looking at her with an incomprehensible expression.
“Belle, darling, this is Rum Gold, one of my oldest friends; Rum, this is my assistant Belle French, the one who keeps me on the straight and narrow when I’m not wining and dining with old associates. I’m sure you’ll get on swimmingly.”
Gold managed a tight smile.
“Miss French and I have already met,” he said. His voice sounded strangled. “She was a little lost earlier.”
His grip on his cane handle was white-knuckled, the bones pressing urgently against the skin, and he did not offer his hand.
“Well, now you can meet each other properly,” Ella said, either unaware or uncaring of the Gold’s strained words. “I see you’ve already met Gold’s partner in crime.”
“A pleasure to see you as always, Ella,” Jefferson said, bowing low and tipping an imaginary hat.
Belle glanced sideways at Gold as he sat down. He was pointedly avoiding her eyes, shutting her out, pretending that she didn’t exist. She couldn’t say she blamed him entirely, but at the same time, the awkwardness in the air was heavy, and she wondered if it was noticeable to the other guests.
Thankfully the arrival of food soon distracted her, and Jefferson on her other side turned out to be an excellent conversationalist, if a little bit eccentric. He reminded her of Ella in a way, and she wasn’t surprised that they got on so well. All the same… She couldn’t help but wonder at the friendship between Ella and the quiet man next to her. All through the meal she kept casting glances at him, but he never looked in her direction once.
It was a shame that their acquaintance seemed to have been cut short before it had even begun, having started on such embarrassing terms. He was a good-looking man now that she had the chance to focus on his face properly, even if she did keep thinking back to the image of him in the hotel room naked, half-silhouetted against the evening sunlight through the gauze curtains. If only she’d been able to slip through that door without opening it. His eyes were coolly intelligent, but when he smiled - which was not often - a warmth shone through their dark brown depths.
She wanted to apologise, to get off on the right foot, but it didn’t look like she was going to get the opportunity.
They did always say that you never got a second chance to make a first impression, and Gold’s first impression of Belle had been an unfavourable one.
Between dessert and coffee, Belle excused herself to the bathroom, unable to take the screaming silence between her and the man on her left any longer.
Pull yourself together, she told herself crossly, looking in the mirror. You have nothing to be afraid of.
Except perhaps Gold mentioning the fact she’d been breaking into his hotel room to Ella. That wouldn’t be good.
She sighed heavily. Going back out into the ballroom was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t stay in here all night. Ariel would be coming in to look for her soon. Indeed, the door had been opened.
Unfortunately, it was not Ariel.
Ella and Ursula came into the bathroom, and Belle pretended to be extremely focussed on touching up her lipstick to avoid talking to them. Unfortunately, Ella had a habit of drawing one into a conversation no matter what.
“I have to ask, Belle, what’s going on between you and Gold?”
Belle turned and stared wide-eyed at her boss, who was busy with her own make-up and did not notice her assistant’s aghast expression.
“Nothing?” she squeaked.
“Exactly.” Ella turned to her, raising one thickly painted eyebrow. “You’ve barely said two words to each other all evening, and if I didn’t know better I’d say that you were in fact pointedly ignoring each other. I was so pleased when I saw that you’d been put together, I was certain that you’d be able to find some common ground. So what I really want to know is what happened whilst you were ‘lost’.”
Belle looked around for some kind of escape, but it was at that point that Ursula came out of her cubicle and the attack became double-pronged.
“I’m quite happy to hit him in the balls with his own cane if you need me to,” Ella continued, and the mention of Gold’s intimate parts brought Belle’s mind back full circle to the hotel room, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling, praying for strength from whatever entity might be out there.
“But the fact remains,” Ella was saying, “is that I’ve known him long enough to know he’s really not the kind of man you need to do that to.”
Belle took a deep breath and met Ella’s patient gaze again. The older woman’s face was curious, but not judgmental. At least, not judgmental just yet.
“Ariel and I were locked out of our hotel room on the roof,” she began, and the whole tale unfolded from there, the words falling over themselves in her haste to get them out and relive the whole experience as quickly as possible.
For a moment after she concluded her woeful story, there was silence, but then to her surprise Ella and Ursula both burst out laughing.
“Oh, that’s priceless!” Ella exclaimed. “No wonder he’s giving you the cold shoulder. I’ll go and smack some sense into him.”
“Please don’t hit him in the balls,” Belle murmured.
“No, no, I don’t intend to harm him in anyway, his pride’s damaged enough as it is.” She gave Belle a sympathetic smile. “I’ll just talk to him, and get you the chance to apologise, and then things should look up from there.” She patted Belle’s arm and left the bathroom, rolling her eyes at Ursula who was still laughing.
“Oh dear,” she said eventually, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “It reminds me of some of the escapades they had at college. I should tell you some of those, they’d cheer you up.” She put an arm around Belle’s shoulders and steered her out of the bathroom. “It’s not the end of the world. We’re not going to fire you. Come on, you need a G&T.”
Belle snorted. “Is gin your answer to everything?”
“No, it’s Ella’s answer to everything, so I know that a G&T is exactly what she’d be prescribing right now.”
They made their way over to the bar, and Belle glanced in the direction of their table. Ella was sitting in Belle’s place, chatting to Gold, who appeared to be listening intently. On the other side of the table, Ariel was still chatting with Eric, and Belle was pleased that the two seemed to be hitting it off so well. Maybe something good could come of the evening after all. Jefferson was nowhere to be seen, and Belle didn’t really want to face the idea of not having her previous conversation partner there to fall back on when she got back to the table.
“Here you go.” Ursula pressed a cold glass into her hands and Belle took a gulp, almost spitting it out when she realised how strong it was.
“Is there any tonic in this at all?” she asked. Ursula just winked at her.
“Come on, I think the coast is clear, and I think my wife needs another drink.”
Ella was coming towards them, a small, self-satisfied smile on her face. Gold was sitting alone at the table, and he was watching the three of them. At that moment she caught his eye and he looked away quickly, abashed at being caught staring.
But at least her opportunity was open now. With no-one else at the table, he couldn’t really ignore her. She steeled herself, holding her glass so tightly she feared she might break it, and walked purposefully across to the table, sitting back in her place.
Gold turned to her.
“Miss French,” he began cordially. “Ella was telling me about your predicament on the roof earlier.”
He said nothing else; passed no comment on the situation.
“Yes. I wanted to apologise for my intrusion.”
Gold nodded. “Apology accepted. No harm done, I suppose, except to my pride. And as Ella and Ursula will no doubt be the first to tell you, it’s taken more knocks than that. I’d like to apologise for my aloofness too.”
He held out his hand, and Belle shook it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Gold,” she said.
“Likewise, Miss French.” He glanced over to the bar where Ella and Ursula were leaning, completely absorbed in each other and paying the rest of the crowded room no mind at all. “I don’t think we need fear any more loving interference from them tonight,” he said, but there was a touch of fondness behind the dry words, and Belle espied an opportunity.
“How do you know Ella?” she asked, already knowing the answer but thinking it as good an opener as any.
Gold chuckled. “That’s a long story.”
Belle shrugged. “I’ve got time.”
The evening was still young, after all, coffee was still being distributed amongst the tables, and the party showed no signs of breaking up. Now that the ice had been broken and their awkward first meeting swept under the rug, Belle wanted to learn a little more about this enigmatic man.
He smiled and took a sip of his whiskey.
“Well, it all started when we were at college…”