About Face by Adam Gittlin

one.
    â€œJulia mentioned she saw you head this way,” a voice startles me.
    Brand.
    â€œSomething I can help you with?”
    Shit.
    â€œI was looking for a bathroom,” I shoot back.
    I start walking toward the fireplace slowly, to make it appear I’m just casually wandering around.
    â€œThe fireplace caught my eye as I walked past. Once I peeked in and saw the chessboard, well—” I go on.
    Brand looks down to his left at the small table with the chessboard on top, as if to make the point it’s all the way back toward the doorway. So why had I crossed the entire room?
    He looks at me again.
    â€œYou a big fan of the game?”
    I’ve never played once.
    â€œI am.”
    â€œMe too,” Brand counters. “Perhaps we can square off one day.”
    â€œPerhaps we can,” I respond.
    â€œCome on. I’ll help you find a bathroom.”
    I follow Brand out of the study.

CHAPTER 8
    S T . M AXIME , F RANCE
2004
    The phone rang. Neo, who had fallen asleep on the lounge chair next to mine, sprang onto all fours like a cartoon character. I pulled my eyes from the gulf waters glimmering with orange light from sunset. I looked at the Audemars—1:38 pm in New York, which meant 7:38 pm on the Côte d’Azur.
    I walked back inside. On the fourth ring, I decided not to pick it up. Hopefully, it was housekeeping telling me because of the “Privacy” sign they hadn’t been able to make up the room. My stomach dropped after ten seconds of silence when it began ringing again. Now it occurred to me—if the hotel personnel knew categorically I was there, my not picking up would be suspicious.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œGood evening, Mr. Gordon. It is Brigette from reception. I had the pleasure of checking you in two nights ago.”
    â€œOf course,” I replied. “Good evening.”
    â€œHow has your stay been thus far? Are you finding everything that you need?”
    â€œI am. Thank you.”
    â€œI just wanted to check with you regarding your credit card,”she continued. “According to you at check-in, American Express said you would receive your replacement card today. Unfortunately, there is no record of any packages arriving for you today.”
    â€œOh, you know, you’re right,” I countered, a touch of surprise sprinkled into my voice. “I’ve been so preoccupied, I must have subconsciously blocked out anything whatsoever that has to do with responsibility.”
    I had hoped for a little laugh. Which I didn’t get.
    â€œI am happy we were able to accommodate you upon arrival,” Brigette went on, “but it is strict hotel policy that we must keep a card on file for all guests. Now I’m—”
    â€œBrigette—say no more,” I cut her off. “I’ll call American Express right now, and get back to you.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Gordon. I appreciate your assistance.”
    I hung up. Still staring at the phone, concocting my next credit card story, it rang again.
    â€œYes, Brigette?”
    Silence. There was a long pause. Was this it, I thought? Was it already time for my next big play?
    Do I say hello again? Or do I hang up?
    Just as I was about to speak, the first word about to leapfrog the back of my tongue, I heard a voice.
    â€œJonah?”
    I sucked in a swallow of air.
    â€œPerry?” I said, in a near whisper.
    â€œI’m here,” she went on, her voice stern. “We’re here.”
    Max. Her son.
    She stopped. I heard a sniffle. She continued.
    â€œWe’re in St. Maxime. We just got here. What room are you in?”
    Hearing her voice shocked, awed, relieved, and confused me. I was stuck in no-man’s land. My previous life was freshly behind me. Yet after what happened at the market it already felt a thousand years away.
    â€œI … I, what—”
    â€œDon’t even
think
of cracking on me now, tough guy,” she blasted