What's In a Name?

Dumped.

Fired and dumped.

How pathetic.

I'd been removed from my employee housing in San Francisco and put on a plane back to New York. "Covid-19 layoffs," they'd said. The farewell had been sudden and unceremonious. I'd called my boyfriend to tell him I'd be coming home.

When my plane landed, there was another farewell waiting for me. My boyfriend's monotone voicemail informed me that he'd found someone else. Someone more "stable."

We were over.

Oh. And he would not be picking me up from the airport.

Dick.

Fired and dumped. Such was the sad life of Josephine Thorne.

I shook my head and swallowed against angry tears.

Within a mob of other tired, irritated travelers, I made my way through baggage claim, heading toward ground transportation. Up ahead, I saw a man in a smart black suit displaying an iPad. The screen read:

Imperial Hotel for:
NOELLE SOUX

I scoffed. Lucky Noelle. The Imperial was the best five star hotel in NYC. A jobless flake like me could never afford it.

As I approached, the suited man made eye contact with me.

"Ms. Soux?" he addressed me. "Welcome back. The car's outside."

"But--" I began, ready to tell him that he was mistaken.

I paused.

Fired and dumped.

I didn't want to be me. Not tonight.

I made a choice.

"Great," I said. "Lead the way."

* * *

The Imperial suite was gorgeous. All dark wood and creamy satin. The cityscape view was breathtaking.

There was a polite knock at the door. I opened it and found a pretty woman of my age and complexion smiling at me.

"Ms. Soux?" she asked. "How are you this evening? Is everything to your liking?"

"Everything's incredible," I answered truthfully.

The woman smiled wider and stepped past me into the room.

I found this odd. Too familiar. I then recalled the driver had said "welcome back." Noelle Soux must've stayed here often.

Crap. What if she'd grabbed a taxi and was on her way here? I really hadn't thought this through.

"You seem anxious," the woman remarked. "Would you like some wine? There's an impressive selection."

"No, thank you," I sighed. I wrung my hands and shoved my fingers through my hair. I noted fleetingly that she had long dark hair, just like mine. "I...have a confession. I don't belong here. My name's Josephine. I had a terrible day, and I acted impulsively. I'm sorry. I'm not Noelle Soux."

The woman laughed. "I know."

"You...know?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I know, because I am Noelle Soux."

I blanched. "You are?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm here because I've gotten myself into some trouble."

Unease gripped my stomach. "What kind of trouble?" I asked.

"The irreparable kind, I'm afraid," she said. "The kind one can escape only by faking one's death."

I couldn't breathe.

She stared at me, her expression thoughtful. "And you're here because a 'death' is significantly more convincing when a body is found. Don't you agree, Ms. Soux?"

*