Night Auditor

Meredith (8)

I would come to remember the day I first laid eyes on Olivia that hot afternoon as I rested on the hammock and indulged in the hushed silence of the historic hotel. Much like the existence of the beautiful Hacienda hidden in the sad town of Lagro, so was this woman who didn't look like she belonged here, as if she should be somewhere in Milan dressing elite models or be a model herself. Or it could just be the obvious. I was yet to see a person of color in Lagro which looked to be dominated by the caucasian kind, but I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to voluntarily move into this town unless they already had family ties established. Except that that was exactly what I was doing. Family ties or not, I'd move to the only town that let me see the good side of Billy.

"You must be Meredith," said the woman. She didn't bother approaching my hammock and instead sat on a vintage rocking chair situated on the porch. The woman pulled out a stick of cigarette from her dress pocket, lit it up, and gracefully inhaled the smoky nicotine. She made this vice look sophisticated like she was the Ted Bundy of chain smoking.

"Yes," I answered. I didn't know if I should approach the woman instead or if I should at least sit up on the hammock out of courtesy.

As if to read my mind the woman said, "Relax, don't mind me. I heard good things about you. Amy has taken a liking."

"She's very kind." I stayed on the hammock resting as I was, but the relaxing feeling had alleviated, my muscles tense, my body rigid. It wasn't the same anymore, not when there was another guest observing me relax from afar.

The woman was indeed beautiful. Her olive skin was smooth and glistening even under the shade, her thick black hair bouncing past her shoulders as if she could be in a Vaseline commercial, her long legs effortlessly crossing over the other to reveal spotless skin and natural curves. She could be in her late 20's or early 30's but she had a powerful hold in her that I couldn't place. She was an extraordinary standout in Lagro thanks to her (probably) Vietnamese or Thai descent.

The woman, noticing my observing eyes, said, "I'm Olivia."

"Nice to meet you Olivia," I said, flustered and embarrassed. "Are you a Damas fanatic too?"

"Excuse me?" Olivia took one more drag on her cig, much longer this time, and effortlessly blew swirling smoke out in the air.

"I heard this hotel mostly gets Tony Dmas fans for that movie, um, Dirty Feasts?"

Olivia gently tapped her cig on the tin ashtray sitting on the table next to her, with her slender hand adorned with jeweled rings on each finger except the inder, her wrists glammed up with gold bracelets probably imported from Dubai.

She let out a soft chuckle. "Never seen that movie and I don't think I will. But I can only wish they keep coming."

"You work here?"

"You can say that," said Olivia. "Though I'd say Amy and the rest of the staff do most of the grunt work. Ah, who am I kidding? They do all of the grunt work."

"Oh you're the owner?" I sat up (or rather, struggled to sit up) on the swinging hammock. Of course this woman was the owner. I knew she had a powerful grab in her so why else would a woman like Olivia voluntarily stay in a historic hotel no longer relevant for decades?

"It's not always pretty," she said, pulling out a second stick of cigarette from her pocket. "Sometimes I have to deal with pricks like Ron. Have you seen him around?"

I had only seen one other guest before now, and it was the man who obnoxiously lectured Richard about how shitty the hotel breakfast was that morning. Olivia continued, "Ron fucking Petrie of the second floor. Such a prick, I'm telling you. He's supposedly here on a business trip but for a dead town such as ours, there's only so many things he could be doing here. Probably a fucking Ihop rep so they can open a restaurant here and put Denny's in its place."