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“Lewis, is it?” I asked, and he nodded. “Even the most confident, buttoned-up person can have a bad day.” I’d seen many people come apart in the tasting room after life became too much for them. Some would argue alcohol could bring out the worst in people, but I don’t agree. Alcohol breaks down the barriers a person hides behind, allowing their inner demons to find their way to the surface. It doesn’t make them bad. It makes them human. We all have demons we’re trying to suppress.
Lewis gave a half-hearted smile before pointing toward a service elevator. “You can take that elevator to the top floor. No one uses it but the staff, and everyone is off for the night.”
“Thank you, Lewis.”
“Anything for Ms. Hodge.”
Phoebe’s head popped up, and she smiled at the young man. “You’re a good man, Lewis. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, and Phoebe placed a hand over my mouth. “Shh. I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Lewis.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Hodge.”
Phoebe nuzzled into my chest again, eyelashes fanning toward the apple of her cheeks. When was the last time she let loose? Allowed herself to not have it all together?
I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. “Do you have a key card?”
She flopped her arm up, her bag almost smacking me in the face.
“Is it okay if I go in your bag?”
She grunted, and I took that as a yes. I opened the zipper and searched for the keycard, finding it neatly put in a small black leather card holder. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who would push a week’s worth of clothes off her bed, so I’d have somewhere to sit.
“What room are you in?” I asked.
“End of hall,” she mumbled.
We stepped off the elevator, and I glanced left. At the end of the hall was a large window, looking over the resort. I shifted my gaze to the right and there was a single door. I made my way across the brown carpet with gold and burnt orange swirls. Phoebe clung to my shirt as if it was keeping the world from spinning away.
“Almost there.” At the door, I scanned the card and pushed into her room. It took me not even a second to realize she was in the penthouse suite. The room was massive, with floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the mountains. I flipped the light switch on, illuminating the space.
Phoebe had said she’d been here for a month, yet the room looked as if it was cleaned and ready for the next occupant. There were no sweaters tossed over one of the many chairs, no suitcases opened and rummaged through, no papers on the table surfaces. The only sign she had been living here was her laptop sitting on the kitchen island, closed with a tattered copy of a book.
Once upon a time she was a slob, and not because she was lazy or dirty, but because she was always living in chaos, running around with a million thoughts in her head, jumping from one thing to the next. It would drive me crazy, especially when it once took her forty-five minutes to find her wallet, and we missed the movie we were supposed to see.
“What happened to my hot mess?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t get an answer. Sometime between the walk from the elevator to now, she had fallen asleep. Tiny breaths puffed from her lips, and her chest rose and fell with peaceful beats.
A short hallway off the living space led to her bedroom. I flipped the switch, only to see another room that was completely void of any signs of life. The bed was made, and the comforter tucked tightly in place. I placed her on top of the mattress, and she slowly fell away from my chest.
Her body bowed toward me as I sat down and took her ankle in my hand, removing one shoe and then the other. With shoes in hand, I went to the closet and opened the two doors. Inside, her clothes hung in a perfect, organized manner. Shirts on one side, skirts on the other, and dresses on the far right. Shoes one pair higher than the next lined the floor, and the shelves on the left held a variety of bags, going down the line in size order.
Maybe all the times I gave her shit about her being an unorganized mess finally sank in. Or maybe she just grew up and realized life was much easier when she wasn’t surrounded by chaos. Still, I’d like to think some of me had stuck with her.
I closed the closet and turned down the covers. “You getting in?”
She groaned her disapproval, and I laughed. That was the Phoebe I knew. She’d make that same sound whenever she fell asleep, and I tried to get her off the couch and into her bed. Now, looking at her, that time seemed like an eternity ago.
“Come on.”
She flopped her hand at me, a really sad and pathetic attempt to make me leave her alone. I thought about leaving her exactly as she was, but something kept me from walking away. Something always kept me from walking away from her.
“Phoebs,” I said, and her eye blinked open.
“Hmm.”
“Get under the covers.”
She shook her head, her blonde hair rubbing into the comforter, creating static and causing the strands to fly about. “I have to put pajamas on. I can’t sleep in my clothes.”
