XI: Jet Lag

YOU CAN do this, I thought to myself as I walked down the packed airport. People around me were busy and excited. I even saw a cute couple embrace right there in the middle of the airport. 

I, on the other hand, had no one waiting with their arms wide open. I had insisted that Simone--nor my mother--not greet me at the airport for many reason. 

One of them being jet-lag. When I see that family of little Satan off-springs again, they will see me as I am: a successful, beautiful, sovereign woman. 

Stick it to the man, and all that, right?

Another reason was fatigue. After a long ass flight, all I needed was some decent food and sleep. So excuse me, World, if I don't have the patience needed to take those Mercer women's constant chatter. 

And plus, it was the middle of the night. I really doubt those two want to ridicule me so badly that they'd sacrifice their beauty sleep. 

With a slight frown on my face, I climbed into a cab and read off the address of the hotel I was staying at. He gave a grunt and began to drive. 

Bad day, buddy? Yeah, probably not as bad as mine. I was coming home after five years. The universe better cut me some freaking slack and not have any traffic. It was two in the morning after all. 

"Thanks," I murmured to the grumpy cab driver as he handed me my luggage about an hour-long drive later. Not bothering to wait for a reply, I spun around and walked past the double doors and marble lobby.

"Hello, ma'am. Welcome to our fabulous--" The man sitting behind the front desk began before I cut him off.

"I. Am. Tired." I said through clenched teeth. The man's eyes widened as his jaw practically dropped to the desk top in front of him. "I just came from  Florence, Italy. I just want to sleep."

He frantically nodded and opened his mouth to most likely apologize but I wasn't having that. I know I was being a bitch, but that's what happens when I'm stressed, hungry, and tired. Sue me. "Reservation under Chevalier."

"Miss Elle Chevalier, here we are. Room 214. I'll just call a bellhop to come help you with--or not," he said when I snatched the card from his fingers and turned to briskly walk away. 

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder in the most civil voice I could muster at the moment before stepping into the elevator. 

As soon the elevator doors slid open on the fifteenth floor, my eyes zeroed in on the sign on the wall that read 'Vending'. With a sigh of relief, I found the vending machines and practically cried of joy when I finally held in my hands a packet of Oreos.

"Wow. I've never seen a girl so excited about cookies before," a deep voice said from behind me. With a squeal, I spun around and came face-to-face with a fairly handsome man. 

He looked to be in his late twenties and wore plaid pajama pants and some university t-shirt. I raised an eyebrow at his comment but didn't speak because I was currently chewing a black cookie. Every girl knows not to ever eat Oreos in the presence of a man. But since I was caught red-handed, I was just not going to speak.

"Are you deaf or something?" he asked with a mocking smile. I almost scoffed at his assumption but that would mean having to open my mouth. 

Deciding that this jerk of a man needed to be taught a lesson, I began to make crazy hand movements. 

His smile slipped right off his face as his eyes widened. "Oh shit. You are deaf."

I very nearly laughed then but instead I contorted my face into a mask of confusion. He looked hilarious, just standing there unsure of what to say. 

So I kept torturing him with my made up sign-language until I properly swallowed. After making sure I wouldn't have bits of cookies stuck in my teeth, I let a smile carve itself onto my lips. "That's for being an asshole."

A look of utter disbelief crossed his face as I laughed and walked past him with my luggage. 

"Wait a minute!" he called after me in an indignant tone. "Is it even legal to impersonate a hearing impaired person?"

I shrugged as I walked on, praying that he'll leave me alone. "Well it should be!"

I rolled my eyes and gave a snort. "Well, if it should be illegal to pretend to be deaf, then Congress should pass a law against complete jerks like you."

The guy suddenly jumped in front of me and snatched a suitcase up from my hands. "What the hell are you doing now? Stealing from me, because I'll have you know, that is a real crime."

"Elle Chevalier," he said reading the name tag on the suitcase. "Fancy. French. Very sexy."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. This was going to take a while. "May I have that back? I just came from a very long flight and I'd like to go to bed."

The man looked me up and down before a cocky smirk appeared on his face. "Well, Miss Chevalier, I'd love to tuck you in."

I gave a long sigh before reaching forward to take back my suitcase. Grabbing the other off the floor, I walked away without another word. 

"See you around, Miss Chevalier," he playfully called after me. I saluted him without turning around as I looked for my suite. 

"Yeah, I sincerely hope not." His stupid chuckle was the last thing I heard before I closed my hotel room door closed. 

Dropping my two suitcases and my carry-on garment bag on the floor of the large lounging room, I kicked off my heels as I practically ran into the bedroom. I jumped up and landed on the field of feather pillows and comforter before closing my eyes and finally going to sleep. 

WAKING FROM a long, stiff, dream-less slumber, I groaned as I raised my neck to check the time. 5:45.

Guessing by the lack of sunshine that illuminated the room, it was safe to say that it was p.m. and not a.m. I almost slept through my first day back home. Almost. Too bad I woke up.

Rolling over, I sighed and looked down at my body still clad in yesterday's outfit. I was dressed in my favorite sheer black tights underneath a pair of brown tweed formal shorts and a tan waist-long trench coat.

I ripped the jacket off and left it on the bed as I stood to wonder into the bathroom. My reflection said it all. 

Jet lag. A major case of it.

Stripping all my layers off, I stepped into the shower to let the cold water try and cure my sleepiness. 

When I emerged again from the shower with a fluffy towel around my body and a smaller one wrapped around my head, I sat on the bed as I turned my phone on. 

Dang. I had ten missed calls all from Simone. 

I decided to ring her back as I waited for room service to arrive. "Oh my God, thank goodness you're alright!" I heard Simone's voice ring out on speaker as dragged my suitcases into the room and rummaged through them until I found my silk robe. "I'm okay, Simone."

"Why hadn't you picked up earlier?"

"I was asleep, sorry," It was then that I heard a knock on the door. "Hey, hold on. Room service," I said taking Simone off speaker and walking--okay, maybe running--to the door.

I didn't bother to look through the peephole, and it was a decision I regretted very quickly when the door swung open to reveal the dickhead from last night by the vending machines. "You shouldn't open the door for strangers," he said with a smile as he held up my tray of food.

"Hey, I'm gonna need to call you back," I said to Simone before hanging up.

"You work here?" I said in a skeptical tone. He wasn't wearing a uniform but he wasn't exactly dressed informally in jeans and a baseball hat or something. He wore a pair of black slacks and a nice pinstripe button-down. 

He struggled to fight off the smile on his lips as he looked down at me. "Nice robe." Suddenly feeling overly exposed, I wrapped the thin fabric around myself tighter while I tried to ignore his mocking laugh.

"Can I just have my food?" I asked in a desperate tone. I was so hungry and hadn't eaten anything since I left Italy yesterday. With a sickly sweet smile, he offered me the tray and I hesitantly took it. 

"You enjoy that, Miss Chevalier." 

"Um thanks." I said in a confused tone as I shut the door on his face. 

"What--no tip?" his voice rang through the door. I stifled a laugh and rolled my eyes at his theatrics. "I don't tip perverts!"

After allowing myself one more laugh, I took the tray to the lounging area and placed it down on the coffee table. I was so looking forward to the big plate of pancakes I ordered and my mouth was already watering. 

I hadn't had a good flapjack in five years and--

No he didn't, I thought as I lifted the cover off the serving plate and found it empty. 

With a frustrated shriek, I stood and stomped into the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. After that I took my angry ass down to the lobby where I slammed my fist down on the front desk, scaring the man sitting behind it.

Oh great, it was the same receptionist from last night. Now he'll think I'm an even bigger bitch. "Yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"

"I need to speak to the owner, or manager, or whatever you call him!" the man raised an eyebrow at my explosion before shaking his head. 

"I'm afraid that's not possible. Everyone is gone on a conference, not that the owner would see a guest without an appointment. You see, he's a very busy man."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. But I'm also sure that he'd like to know that one of his employees just pissed me the hell off and I am a woman of many connections."

"Is that right?" the idiot man asked in a mocking voice. 

"Do you know why I'm in town, Mr...?"

"Smith," he added when I paused. Waving my hand as if it didn't matter, I continued. "I'm in town for Simon Mercer's wedding."

Mr. Smith's eyes nearly popped out of his head when I said that. I really hated pulling out the Mercer card, but I was hungry, jet lagged, and seriously angry. "Now find me someone to freaking complain to, Mr. Smith, or so help me I'll pack my bags and your lousy hotel will never host another Mercer family friend ever again!" 

"M-Mr. Allan Richmond is out of town at a conference, as are all the other managers of the hotel."

I let out a frustrated sigh and considered smacking the man on the face. "There must be someone I can talk to. Someone has to be in charge of this damn place."

"There is his son, but Mr. Richmond doesn't like to be bothered...erm I mean, I'll call him right away ma'am," I guess my face said it all. I would have drop-kicked him if he didn't pick up that telephone to dial Mr. Bad-Service-Hotel-Owner's son. 

The Smith dude hung up after a second and shook his head. "I'm sorry, he's not in his office. Oh, wait, there he is."

I spun around and came face-to-face with the arrogant employee. I opened my mouth to complain my ass off for this bad service when the cocky son of a bitch smirked and held out his hand for me to shake. "Hello, I'm Cole Richmond."

My mouth hung open as I gaped at the rude idiot in front of me. His smile grew wider as he took in my puzzled expression. "What seems to be the problem, Miss...?"

"Elle Chevalier," Mr. Smith pipped in behind me. 

Oh, shit. How is it that after one day back home and I've already got a Richmond on my "Anti-Elle" Club.

AS MORTIFICATION ate away at me, I slummed down on the wall and laid there. That had been so embarrassing. I don't think I'm ever leaving this room again.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and with a groan, I pulled it out to answer Simone. "Hey, sorry about earlier."

"Oh, don't worry! Just text me which hotel you're at so I can go pick you up. We're having a girls night out with the rest of the bridesmaids!"

Great. That's just freaking fantastic.

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A/N: Dedicated to monalisa2125! Thanks.