The Girl She Used to Be by David Cristofano

Author:David Cristofano
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary Women, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, American First Novelists, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), General, United States, Thrillers, Protection, Suspense, Psychological, Fiction - General, General & Literary Fiction, Witnesses, Mafia
ISBN: 9780446582216
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-03-10T08:00:00+00:00

• • •

Jonathan pulls in front of the Renaissance Harborplace Hotel in downtown Baltimore, across the street from the Inner Harbor. He pops the trunk, leaves the car running, and gets out. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to rob the place. The next thing I know he’s at my door and opens it for me and offers his hand.

I take it.

He pulls me out and keeps my hand in his grip a few seconds longer than one normally would, and I find it suggestive. I tuck my text on string theory under my arm. He goes to the trunk and removes a small suitcase and four shopping bags. He throws the suitcase over his shoulder and puts two bags in each hand. As we walk toward the entrance of the hotel, Jonathan asks the valet to pass the ticket to me, which the valet does, and as we pass through the front door, the Audi disappears.

This is not WITSEC.

Even though it’s nighttime, my eyes take a moment to adjust to the interior of the hotel. Over the course of a lifetime of stays in three-story motels, I have never experienced anything like this dark and surreal entrance. The walls are paneled with mahogany and the millwork is opulent and elaborate. The walls, the carpets, the ceiling, the statues—all deep, lush tones; it feels like I’m walking through the belly of a living creature. Based on my appearance, it really couldn’t get dark enough for me anyway.

We’re suddenly at the front desk and Jonathan is fumbling with the bags.

A perfectly coiffured, middle-aged woman rushes to help Jonathan and stares him down with a smile that insinuates attraction. “Have you stayed with us before, sir?” the clerk asks.

“We have not,” he says, rustling through his pockets until he finds a wad of cash.

I move a few steps closer to Jonathan.

The clerk’s smile fades a bit, morphs into a more artificial I-am-here-to-help-you look.

I turn and watch Jonathan. This is the critical moment; his intentions will become completely apparent with the decision about the sleeping accommodations. If he rents one room, he’s probably thinking he’ll get lucky; if he rents two rooms, he’s taking the path of the well-mannered and considerate. Had I more experience in the bedroom, I might view this as a win/win situation.

“I just need your name or reservation number,” the clerk says.

“We don’t have a reservation.” He makes no eye contact, keeps counting the bills.

“Well, sir, there’s a convention in the hotel. I’m afraid there are no—”

Jonathan chucks a wad of bills on the counter. If I had to guess, it was at least four hundred dollars.

He keeps his eyes down, still counting. “And we’d like two rooms, adjoining, facing the harbor, for two nights.”

I’m impressed—and not surprised.

“Uh… sure,” she says, “let me see.” She types for a moment, then nabs a passing clerk and whispers, “Move the Mendels down to seven-nineteen.” Suddenly, the printer under the counter goes to town and within a few seconds she places the page in front of Jonathan to sign.

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