Signed by Fate

CHAPTER THREE

Jimi was stretched across Miriam's couch in the parlor with a glass of juice balanced on his knee, half-watching a movie, when he glanced at the darkening window and he suddenly remembered.

"Oops.” He reached for his phone on the table.

“Haven't called my cousin all day.”

The line rang twice before it cut to a recording. The number you are trying to reach is unavailable.

“What? ”. He frowned at the screen, then shrugged. “She's a boss. She can handle herself.”

He set the phone down and went back to his juice. He wasn't one to care too much about someone. “ Care was an emotion he hadn't simply developed.”

---

Miriam arrived at Louis V. and parked without much care for how straight the car sat in the space. She walked in slower than usual, drained rather than glamorous now, though the room still turned to look at her the way rooms always did because of her beauty. She let them look. She didn't pay too much attention.

At the bar, she flipped her hair back, adjusted herself and set her bag down, and waited.

The barman approached her.

"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to Louis V. What can I get you?"

"A bottle of whiskey." She considered.

"And — is there room in the executive suite tonight?"

I'm not sure, ma'am, but the receptionist upstairs would know; by your left.

She thanked him and made her way up.

“Good evening, ma'am. How can I help you?”

Do you have an executive suite available?. Miriam asked.

Yes we do, Ma'am.

I'll take it. She dugged her card from her mini purse in her Fendi bag and swiped it across the reader without checking the total.

“All set.” Here is your keytag. The receptionist slid it across the counter. Take a right down that hall.”

Enjoy your stay, Ma'am. The receptionist added.

"Thank you,” Miriam murmured, already turning away, the tag pressed into her palm tightly like it was something she needed to comfort her a little.

She found the suite, swiped the keytag through, let herself in, dropped her bag on the couch, and fell face-first onto the bed

For a long moment she just breathed.

“What now?” asking herself. But she couldn't answer the question.

Then she whispered, "God —please. Just a miracle.”

Her voice broke down on the last word. She cried her eyes out the way she hadn't let herself cry all day until exhaustion pulled her under.

---

Damian arrived at Louis V. Not long after.

“Good evening, Mr. Damian”. The receptionist's voice caught slightly, as she was aware of the figure standing right in front of her.

“Evening. Reservation’s under my name.” His fingers slightly tapping the table. He didn't look up from his phone.

“Of course, sir —your friend is already at the executive bar.”

"Okay,” Damian said in a cold tone. So cold enough that the receptionist shivered and gulped down saliva.

Damian turned through the corner.

“Jerry.”

“You made it.” Jerry was already pouring some of the Italian wine into a glass.

“ Wasn't sure you would have time.”

Damian dropped into his seat across from him, Unbuttoning his suit, crossing one leg over the other.

Well, just business deals here and there. I wasn't sure I would have time myself. He said laughing. We needed to catch up on old times though.

“ So how was the rest of your day?”. He asked sharply.

"Fine. Quiet, compared to upstairs." Jerry's face dimmed. "Honestly, I think with the current situation, the company might crash. The CEO hasn't even addressed the staff yet.”

"She'll figure it out." Damian took the glass Jerry offered. "That's usually what CEOs are for." He said with a faint smile.

They talked for an hour after that — old friends, girls from school, childhood, family, business, nothing. When Jerry checked his watch, he swore under his breath and stood too fast.

“I have to get back — I promised I'd say goodnight.”

“Don't forget,” Damian said, “to kiss my goddaughter for me.”

“Of course. Always do.” Jerry smiled and left him there.

Damian stayed at the bar a while longer, glass in hand. Watching the room without really seeing it. He was one who enjoyed his privacy and a little bit of quietness. The kind that didn't really need to matter to anyone.

- - -

Miriam woke to knocking.

"... who's there,” she said with a thick sleepy voice.

“Room service, ma'am.” A tiny girl- like voice responded.

She dragged herself up and walked to the door partway, leaning her weight into the frame.

Your whiskey, Ma'am. Should I pour a glass?

"Yes.” She stepped back to let the girl in.

The glass was set on the table, and Miriam settled into a sofa across from it, thanking the girl absently as she left.

She drank slowly, the burn grounding her a little, and tried remembering exactly when she had fallen asleep.

Her eyes looking so pale and tired like she hadn't slept for months.

Then her eyes landed on her bag. The investor fund file was in there.

“NO.” She said it out loud, to no one. Not tonight. I can't do this again tonight.

She set the glass down harder than she meant to, grabbed her phone instead, scrolled until she found the name she needed.

Kylie's phone began to ring.