The Accidental Mistress

chapter Four

Christophe punched the door once, twice, three times, until the plaster chipped. "F*ck!"

The fury didn't ease. He lowered his throbbing fist and sucked down several calming breaths. He could feel the swelling spread across his knuckles. He should have controlled himself. Realizing his mistake, he snatched the door open. The hall was empty. She was gone.

What did he need with a woman who made him think of a time when he wanted to be a massage therapist, and live off playing his guitar? All stupid frivolity went through his head when he kissed her. Christophe slammed the door. His hands clutched his hair and gripped fistfuls until he felt the tightness from the root. He spun to face the darkness.

The suite felt colder and so did he. Christophe's gaze eventually returned to the bed. He saw her again, with those large brown eyes and succulent mouth. He could still smell the lavender on her skin and taste the tangy sweetness of her sex. Christophe closed his eyes for a brief second to shake the image. When he failed, he stormed through the room into the outside suite. He found the half empty liquor bottle and decided to drink from it. Gabriella was the bitch he wanted to hurt. Instead, he'd been a dick and crushed an innocent woman. His father was right, when he finally walked out on his bitter manipulative mother.

Women weren't worth the trouble.

***

"Zuri! Qu'est-ce que c'est? What is it?"

Zuri clung to her sister. She hugged Joi's neck, barely letting her close the door. Together they stumbled back inside.

"I thought you went home, that you left?" Zuri’s arms were forced down and from around her sister's neck. Joi searched her face for an explanation. She knew how wild she looked. She reeked of dried vomit, alcohol, and his sex.

"Did somebody hurt you? Zuri, stop crying and tell me what happened. You're scaring me!"

The question made her sick, and soon the sickness became a physical pain. Zuri rushed into the bathroom; she sprayed vomit over the toilet again. Joi dropped to her knees and rubbed her back. "Tell me what happened, please. Tell me, s'il te pla?t," Joi wept.

Zuri found the words to share the sordid story. The bar, the drinks, waking up in a man's bed that she thought was Joi's. She told her how she kissed him, asked him to take make love to her. How he made her feel, until he discovered she was a virgin. Even then he was caring. But in the end it all went wrong. He threw her out like she was nothing more than a whore.

"The bastard! What is his room number?" Joi shouted. Her sister began to speak fast in Creole, of finding and castrating her tall Casanova. Zuri didn't want revenge. She just wanted to forget.

"No. He didn't hurt me physically. He's not worth it, Joi."

"The hell he isn't. How dare he?"

"I'm fine. Let me catch my breath," said Zuri.

Everything dissolved to a bland all encompassing numbness. Colors were no longer vivid. Joi's questions went past her. Her body was stiff and she felt awkward in her skin.

"I'm disappointed, I suppose," she confessed.

"Disappointed? You were insulted, abused."

"No. Not really. I put myself in that situation. The thing is, Joi, I really thought we hit it off. But something is wrong with him."

"What? Is he crazy?"

"Maybe. I don't know. He seemed different. I can't explain it. Hell I don't even know his last name."

Her sister rose from her squat. Zuri watched Joi pace in a yellow sleep shirt and silk scarf tied down on her head. She mumbled several times to herself. Her face was twisted in rage. Then she stopped and frowned down at Zuri when she spoke. "You sure you don't want to go back up there to set him straight?"

"Why? What's his crime? Sleeping with a woman that got naked for him and threw herself at him? I'm so embarrassed, Joi. Don’t make it worse. What if you cause a scene and mère and père find out? What then? I want to forget him. Please."

Zuri grabbed the side of the tub and forced herself to stand on her rubbery legs. She wanted out of the stained dress. Immediately she slipped it off. Joi marched out of the bathroom. Her sister's quick temper was unmatched by Zuri's weak self-esteem. If she had been more confident, she wouldn't have chosen some man in a bar to sleep with, she supposed.

Another quick shower cleared her head. It also scrubbed away every trace of his scent. She left the bathroom and found Joi going through her suitcase. Her sister fished out a nightshirt and gave her an understanding smile. She and Joi should have been twins the way they connected at times. It felt as if they were. Joi set aside her anger and protectively cared for her.

"You scared me, Zuri. It's over. Let's just forget it for now."

Zuri nodded. She slipped on the nightshirt and climbed into bed. Joi turned off the lamp and climbed in with her. It felt good being with someone that loved her and knew she wasn't the mean things that Christophe, 'the creep', implied. Tonight, Zuri understood her heart and how delicate it was. She vowed never to throw it at a random stranger again.

"It's over, Zuri. Je t'aime."

"I love you too, Joi."

***

Christophe stepped aside while the hotel manager walked through the suite.

“Bad break-up huh? I guess it happens. People are less likely to commit murder in hotels. Instead they just destroy their rooms.” A tall lean man in tailored grey suit stepped over broken glass and furniture pieces. Christophe was reminded of a mortician by his cool detached manner and the way he clasped his lean fingers behind his back. The hotel manager stopped. Christophe followed his line of sight. The plasma television had been ripped from the wall and beat against the dresser until it splintered down the middle.


"Aw, so this is the noise maker that alerted our other guests on the floor."

"I'm willing to compensate the hotel," Christophe mumbled and waked out of the suite into the bedroom. He wasn't a violent man. But the destruction he put on his $4,000 a night suite after the Zuri fiasco told another story. When he finally put himself together (a pot of coffee and two showers helped) he granted the visit from the hotel manager. His family name and wealth didn't require a full explanation.

"Mr. Montague, allow me to place you in another room for the night sir."

"Get out," Christophe mumbled. He sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing. The hotel manager snapped his fingers and his assistant left, but he stayed. Christophe finally glanced up. He noticed the greed in the man's eyes. He'd seen it before whenever someone thought Montague's fortune could be used to his or her benefit. Deciding he didn't need the hassle of the tabloids, he rose and dug down in his pocket to extract his wallet. He had six crisp one hundred dollar bills. He counted them out and handed them over. The manager gave a curt nod and accepted the money.

"We have your credit card on file. I estimate maybe twenty to thirty thousand dollars worth of damage."

Christophe shrugged. He threw the wallet over to the nightstand.

"You have a pleasant day, sir. If you decide you want to remain at the hotel another evening, please don't hesitate to let us know."

"I will be checking out shortly."

"Yes sir. Ring us for your luggage."

The mortician left. Christophe dropped again on the mattress. A slither of daylight reached his foot. He lifted his head and stared out of the partially uncovered window.



***

"Bonjour! Rise and shine."

Zuri turned over to light, lots of light. She put her hand to her eyes. They burned, as did her throat, and her sour belly. "Close the drapes."

"Nope, mère called. They want to go to breakfast, and I want to go to Walgreen's again."

"Huh? Are you kidding?"

Joi plopped down on the mattress making Zuri bounce under the comforter. The action was like a sledgehammer to the back of her head. "Cesse tes jeux!" she snapped. Pushing up, she rested against her pillows, focusing on her sister. Joi looked at her with a concerned glare. "I want to talk to you, Zuri."

"Not now, Joi. I'm not in the mood."

"Yes, now. Then we'll never speak of this again."

Zuri nodded.

"What you did last night was dangerous. And it's my fault. I made fun of you and teased you. I only did it because I wanted you to have some fun. I didn't mean for you to pick up a stranger, and... you could have been hurt or worse," Joi said.

"I'm grown. None of it is your fault. He was a creep but not a freak. I'm fine."

"Still, I want to tell you that though I want to kill you for scaring me so bad, I admire you. You're much braver than me, Zuri. You came to America alone, and made a life for yourself. You were right about me not wanting to leave Martinique. I don't want to leave mère and père and they both have been encouraging me to go to school in France. I only like pretending at being adventurous."

Zuri moved aside her cover. She ignored the shifting stabs of pain in her skull and went to her sister's side. She wrapped her arms around Joi and smiled. "I'm fine, okay."

"If something had happened to you—" she choked on her emotion.

"Joi, it didn't. I shouldn't have come in here looking like that. I scared you to death. I'm sorry. Do not blame yourself, okay? And you're right. Let’s never speak of this again."

Joi looked up. "Want to go back to Walgreen's?"

Zuri laughed. "We will take mère to the Loop and shop in the best boutiques."

Joi shook her head. "We have them all on the island, fancy shops and stores. I like Walgreen's," Joi smiled.

Zuri nodded. "Can I wear your suede boots?"

"Deal."

"Let's get dressed before mère is calling for us."

Joi rose and went to the closet. Zuri watched her sister pull out her suitcase. She didn't understand why Joi feared the world. Zuri was curious about all they hadn't seen. She longed for change. What was there really to do and become in Martinique?

***

With his briefcase in hand and a pounding headache that forced him to squint against the new day sun, he headed through the hotel lobby for his chauffeured ride. Soon he'd be on the Montague jet headed to New York. That's when he saw her. She wore fitted faded blue jeans, chocolate suede riding boots with a matching waist jacket. She was beautiful in the daylight. Her skin was a golden even shade of brown and her hair, raven black, was smoothed back into a ponytail. She walked with a woman who looked almost identical to her. A large pair of oval sunglasses covered those big brown eyes of hers. He should have kept walking; maybe she wouldn't have spotted him. But seeing her through sober eyes in the daylight made it hard to move.

Zuri turned up the walkway. His heart surged at the spark of recognition that flared between them, then sank over the cold wave of contempt he felt when she paused.

"Mr. Montague, sir," the driver said, standing with the door open.

Christophe thought to approach her. He didn't apologize often. In fact, his mother deemed that a great weakness in a man who would. But he did want to apologize to her. The moment passed when a younger, equally beautiful woman stood at Zuri's side holding a Walgreen’s shopping bag. She looked at Zuri then at him, and he knew their night of passion and its disastrous end had been shared with this one. The young woman took a challenging step forward, but Zuri grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

All hope of any exchange was lost when Zuri dismissed him and walked away. He was left holding his guilt and regret. Zuri treated him as if he were nothing more than a stranger. But the other continued to glare.

"Mr. Montague, sir, the traffic... we need to leave."

"Yes, yes," he said. With a burdened sigh, he slipped inside the waiting car.

***

"Zuri? Zuri? That was him! Wasn't it? Wasn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Wait. Go out there and tell him to piss off. Don't let him get away with it!"

"Get away with what, Joi? I went to the man's room and got undressed. He didn't invite me. Last night was as much my fault as it was his. Though he's just a evil bastard." Zuri snatched her arm free of her sister and turned to see her parents exiting the elevator. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Don't say a word, Joi. It was my mistake and it's over. Let it go."

Joi opened her mouth to object, but her mother caught up with them.

"Ma chérie, bonjour, did you pull your car around?"

"I did, mère." Zuri said kissing the side of her mother's mouth. She inhaled the familiar fragrance of Chanel that her mother carried and savored it. She felt so much better when Nanette showered her with love. "I told you I want to drive you guys down to Lake Michigan today. Show you more of the city."

"Joi, what's wrong?" her mother asked, releasing Zuri and touching her sister's forehead. Her mother's attentions were more frustrating to Joi who thrived on independence. Joi swatted her mother's caring hands away.

Zuri removed her sunglasses and gave Joi a pleading look. Joi shrugged her shoulders. "Just hungry, mère."

"Me too!" her father said, "Now let's go."

Zuri hugged her father's waist and walked out with him. She would never think of Christophe, the creep, again.