My first stop wasn’t in my office but in the hotel ballroom. Karly and I were married here; it was the hot ticket for Chicago weddings. The two-story space was a kind of miniature Versailles, all done up in gold leaf, with chandelier sconces on the walls and cherubs flying above the rounded doorways and murals painted on the ceiling. I hovered in the back, watching the maintenance team set up chairs and a riser for an evening event. Normally, I could rattle off every ballroom event for weeks at a time, but the accident had erased certain details from my memory. I saw a large marketing poster on an easel near the door, and I walked across the stone floor to remind myself who had booked my ballroom for the night.
The poster showed a photograph of an attractive woman in her forties. She had long brown hair that glinted with blond highlights and was swept over her head like a cresting ocean wave. She was white, but the faint almond shape of her eyes suggested Asian blood somewhere in her past. Her eyes were golden brown, staring intently at the camera, with lips creased into a dreamy smile that offered only a hint of teeth. She wore a black long-sleeve knit top, and she leaned forward with her arm on a desk. Her fingers were bent as if in midcaress. The whole effect of the picture was intimate and erotic, as if she were beckoning you to come closer.
Above the photo was her name and the title of her talk:
DR. EVE BRIER
AUTHOR—PSYCHIATRIST—PHILOSOPHER
“MANY WORLDS, MANY MINDS”
I tried to remember who she was, but I came up empty. We hosted conferences and speakers here all the time, but I had no recollection of booking space for Eve Brier. Based on the photograph, I didn’t think I would have forgotten her. And yet there was something familiar about her, too. Her face stirred . . . what? What was it? It wasn’t really a memory, but I felt as if we’d met somewhere.
“Hello, Dylan.”
The voice came from behind me. I turned around and saw my assistant manager, Tai Ragasa. Her face was exquisitely sad. She came and put her arms around my neck and held me tightly. Her closeness made me uncomfortable, but I opted not to push her away. She hugged me for several beats longer than was appropriate, and then we broke apart. Tai wiped away a tear and reached out and took hold of both of my hands. I could feel the sharpness of her long fingernails.
“I don’t know what to say,” she told me.
“I know.”
“It’s so horrible.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you should be here?”
“No, but I was going crazy on my own.”
“Of course.”
Tai led me to a row of chairs at the back of the ballroom. We sat down next to each other. The maintenance men worked around us, calling out to each other in voices that echoed in the high space, their cleaning equipment banging on the furniture. I tried to pull my hand away, but Tai wouldn’t let go.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Everyone in the hotel has your back. I mean, if you need anything, we’ll all be right there to help you.”
“I know.”
“You really don’t need to be here. I’m serious. I’ve got everything under control. We can manage.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Just focus on yourself,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She kissed me softly on the cheek. Her clean, floral smell enveloped me. When she backed away, her ebony eyes held on to mine, and a few strands of her black hair clung to the buttons of my shirt.
“If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’re not ready yet, but any time you want to—”
“I’m not. I’m definitely not ready.”
“Okay.”
The speaker on her radio buzzed. I heard one of my staff reaching out to her with a catering question. In our jobs, we had to be in constant contact with vendors inside and outside the hotel. Successful events were about a million details, laid out in order, one by one. Tai gave me a look of apology as she answered the call, but I was glad to have some space.
I’d hired Tai six years ago, right after I got promoted myself. Like me, she went to Roosevelt and was enrolled in their hospitality master’s program. As a boss, I chose people based on my gut, and my gut said she was smart and would be running the whole hotel someday. She was twenty-eight now, with a conservative Catholic family back in the Philippines. Tai had a deeply religious streak herself, but it was tough to stay conservative in a metropolis like Chicago. In the past few years, she’d discovered tequila and hip-hop music and tight dresses that emphasized her bony curves.
She was a wisp of a thing, a five-foot-nothing dynamo in high heels. Her black hair was very long and straight and parted in the middle. Her dark eyes twinkled below wicked eyebrows, and her lips were always bright red. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, which was often.
If I were posting about our relationship on Facebook, I would say it was complicated. I liked mentoring her. I liked that she flattered me by telling me how good I was at my job. I liked the snarky little jokes she whispered about couples getting married in the ballroom. To me, she was a younger sister, and as an older brother, I tended to confide my secrets to her. Most recently, I’d told her about Karly’s one-night affair, and like any good sister, Tai was quick to assure me that I was right and Karly was wrong.
All of this seemed safe to me because I had no romantic interest in her. Karly didn’t see it that way. From the moment they met, she didn’t like Tai at all. Karly had a habit of making up words to suit what she wanted to say, and she invented one for Tai. Manipulatrix. In Karly’s dictionary, that was a dominant, controlling woman who got what she wanted by pretending to be submissive. To Karly, who was strong in her own right, that was the worst kind of sin.
“So what can I do for you, Dylan?” Tai asked when she put away her radio. She took my chin with her long fingers and turned my face so I was looking at her. “I want to help with anything you need.”
“I don’t even know yet,” I replied, which was true. “Just hold down the fort here, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“I thought I could go back to work, but I don’t think I can. Not yet.”
“No one would expect you to be ready so soon,” Tai said.
I checked the time on my watch. “I need to go. I’ve got to meet Edgar at the Art Institute in an hour. It drives him crazy if I’m late.”
“Does Edgar know? I mean, about Karly?”
“I called to tell him, but I don’t know whether he really understood what I was saying. Plus, his short-term memory is shot.”
“Sure.”
I stood up from the chair. So did Tai, and she wrapped me up in another embrace that went on too long.
“Are you staying in the hotel again tonight?” she asked.
“Probably. I can’t go back to the apartment yet.”
“I’ll call you before I head home.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She squeezed my shoulder, and I gave her an empty smile of thanks. I turned away, but then, as an afterthought, I remembered what I wanted to know.
“By the way, who’s Eve Brier?”