How To Hide A Body

Lady Liberty Gets A Nose-Job

I left the cab in the busy, luminous streets of New York and entered the rising marble walls of the hotel. Staff shoes squeaked on the floors as everyone tried to be everywhere as soon as possible. I got into the elevator, pushed the button many had pushed before. I turned and quickly scrunched my hair in the mirror, which had a peach lipstick stain in the left corner. I eyed it curiously. I had seen that shade somewhere before. My train of thought (based on all the lips I have kissed before) was stopped short when the elevator stopped half-way and a bellboy pushing a gold room-service trolley entered. 

"'Scuse me, ma'am," the bellboy muttered. I moved towards the lipstick stained corner, giving him an awkward smile. 

"How are you, miss?" he asked, politely, fixing the laced tablecloth so that it fell over the side properly. 

"I'm good, I guess. Hectic day," I mused, shoving a curl behind an ear. He smelt of sampled vanilla hand cream. 

"Same," he said, looking down at his polished shoes, "I can tell you, we have had some troublesome guests, today," he said, leaning in as if telling a secret, "There's this couple that got into a huge fight. Earlier today, you could hear the shouts from the lobby. We couldn't even enter their room! They must have something in front of it. There have been around five 911 calls about it. Domestic disturbance." 

"Oh, wow!" I giggled, "Which room is this in? In case I'm their neighbour and can quickly change rooms." 

"If I recall correctly, they are on the fifteenth floor." He said, touching his chin. 

"Oh, shit! That's my floor!" I laughed. The elevator doors opened on the thirteenth floor, and he walked out backwards, pulling the trolley with him. 

"Room..." he paused, "1578." He winked, "Good luck." The doors closed. I let out a sigh. That was my room. Is it possible that Eulalie got here before me? Is that why she wanted me to come back so quickly? Because of Bart and her had gotten into a fight? 

The doors opened again, this time onto my floor. I nervously walked down the carpeted floor. I reached my room, swiped the keycard in front of it. The light flashed green the same time I heard a heavy object hit the floor. 

I tried to open the door, but, just like the bellboy said, there must have been something in front of it. I shouldered it, heard the thing move slightly. I threw my body weight against the door and listened to the thing skid across the floor. I almost fell as the door gave way. 

The room was a mess. Pillows and duvets were strewn across the floor, a broken champagne bottle from the mini-bar lay smashed on the marble. Thank goodness, it was the cheap one and not my favourite either. 

"I will jump off the balcony if you do not leave in the next five minutes," Bart yelled from the connecting room. I quickly made my way to that side of our room but stopped dead when I heard the voice that answered. 

"Go on. Do it, then. I bet you won't. You would only do it if Sol told you to. Maybe not even then!" 

"Cléo?"

"Don't you dare call her Sol! Only I can call her Sol!" Bart yelled back. I ran into the room, finding Cléo casually sitting on the desk, wine glass in one hand, her hair flowing over her shoulders and Bart, standing like Kate Winslet on the Titanic on the balcony, his arms open wide, eyes closed. 

"Sol!" Cléo squealed, uncrossing her legs and jumping off the desk. She was barefoot, as usual, her rose dress flared at her ankles.

"What did I just say?" Bart yelled from the balcony, turning around. As he saw me, he lowered his arms bashfully, straightened the tuxedo he wore to the Statue of Liberty, indicating this fight had started as soon as he had returned to the hotel, suggesting that she had arrived in our absence.