News from The Standard Hotel

Rich Clark had finally scored an invitation to the big meeting with the heavy hitters. He had been working hard to earn a seat at the table for the past year, and finally his work had paid off. If all went well, he would receive a big pay bump, which he and his wife sorely needed. They were expecting their first child, a boy, whose name would be Wyatt or Will. They liked both and decided they'd wait until he was born to see which name suited him best. Rich's wife's due date was in two weeks, but the doctor had said she could go any time. She was effaced and dilated to 2 centimeters already. They had already packed the bag for the hospital, had all the phone numbers programmed into their cell phones, set up a chat group in their text messages, and felt well and truly prepared.

Maureen Clark was at home. She had done a little shopping on her way home from work and picked up some more clothes for the baby. Everything was so tiny. She had laundered everything she had received from friends and family who'd come to her baby showers, but there were always the last minute things that she needed to wash, including what she'd purchased earlier in the evening.

Everyone had told her about the nesting instinct, but it hadn't hit her. All the prep and hustle and bustle for getting ready for a baby was a task list for her. A series of activities she checked off one by one. After this last load of laundry, she had nothing left to check off besides her final pre-natal appointments and going to the hospital to give birth.

The previous month, Maureen had been exhausted. Then the baby had dropped, and she found she could breathe more easily. She had more energy. At work, she made lists for everyone covering her responsibilities and projects in progress during her maternity leave. Her plan was to work until the day she went into labor. She had been stockpiling vacation time to minimize unpaid time off between when her short-term disability kicked in. She really hoped Rich's meeting went well that evening.

She pulled out her phone and tapped the Find My IPhone app to see if Rich was still at his meeting or on his way home. He was still at The Standard Hotel. "That's good news," she said to herself, rubbing her belly. She sat down on the couch to see if there was anything good on any of the streaming services, and finding nothing, she called her sister.

"Hey, Mo. What's up?" Wendy asked.

"I'm bored. Rich has that meeting, and I have literally nothing to do. I finished the last load of laundry for the baby, folded everything and put it away. Have you eaten dinner?"

"No. Do you want to go out, do something?"

Maureen paused, "You know what I'd love to do? I'd love to go to the bowling alley, get some of those chili cheese fries, and play one game."

"Seriously? Maureen, you know you're like nine months pregnant, right?"

"I know. Remember how I was such a terrible bowler when we were kids? It's totally irrational. I'm still terrible, but I'd like to eat terrible food, play some video games, and go bowling. Once the baby gets here, then it's official. I'm a grownup, a parent, someone's mom."

"Okay. Do you want to meet me there, or do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'll meet you there. Sound good?"

"Yep," Wendy replied.

Also in The Standard Hotel that evening was a man named Clark Rich. He was on his third date with Charlotte. She was lovely, and she didn't trust him. They were dining in the restaurant. Clark and Charlotte had met at a club and seemed to click, at least on the surface. Charlotte had done a little digging, and she knew people who know Clark. He was a man whore. Did she think she could tame him? Not a chance. But, if there was the tiniest chance she could bring him to heel…well, who knew.

Clark wanted a girlfriend. He knew his reputation, and he knew he hadn't earned Charlotte's trust—yet. The night he met her, he'd been called by one of his friends to help him get home. When he'd arrived at the club to pick up his friend, he saw he'd missed a call, and then the text came through. His buddy had taken an Uber home. As Clark was turning to leave the club, he saw Charlotte. The first thing that came to mind was a horrible pickup line, and he knew he had to do better than that.

"I know this sounds weird," he said. "I came here tonight because my buddy called and needed a ride home. He took an Uber before I got here. I was just leaving, and I saw you. Can I buy you one drink and have a conversation? No strings. Just a conversation and a drink, and then I'll leave you alone."

Charlotte said, "I can't decide if that's the strangest come-on I've ever heard, or if you're sincere." She looked him in the eye, and not seeing anything terribly alarming, she agreed. "Sure. Buy me a drink. We'll talk."

They discovered they had mutual acquaintances, similar upbringings, and very similar personal and professional goals. They even worked out at the same gym. Clark worked out in the mornings, and Charlotte in the evenings. When Charlotte finished her drink, she said, "What's your number?" Clark gave her his number, and she tapped it into her cell phone, then hit call. "Now you have my number," she said.

And now they were on their third date. "You know, Clark, you don't have the greatest reputation with women," Charlotte said. "I'm just putting that out there. I'm not looking for a fling, and I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost."

"Yeah, so, about that," Clark said. "I was in a long-term, serious relationship. When it ended, I sort of went crazy. I'm not proud of it. It took me a little bit to get past all the rebounding with different women, and I had to get my priorities in order. I haven't dated anyone in a while, and I'm in a better headspace. I don't think I'm looking for a fling either."

"Clarify something for me. You don't think you're looking for a fling, or you're not looking for a fling?" Charlotte asked, looking carefully for signs of deception in Clark's response.

"I'm not looking for a fling," he said, and he was either telling the truth, or he was the best liar she'd ever met.

Back at the bowling alley, Wendy and Maureen had torn through an order of chili cheese fries, played two rounds of Centipede, one round of Ms. Pacman, and were three frames into bowling. Wendy and Maureen had put their phones on the desk behind the ball return. Wendy had covertly taken video of her very pregnant sister swinging the bowling ball like a demented toddler as she approached the lane, only to come to a complete stop before releasing the ball, then backing up a few steps, aiming the ball with her thumb pointed at twelve o'clock, and pitching the ball down the lane. Maureen had been right. She was still a terrible bowler.

Maureen managed to knock down seven pins. She ambled back to the ball return and picked up her ball. "Wendy, show me you marked me for seven on that roll," she said. She held her returned ball, and leaned over the desk. As Wendy looked up at her sister, she saw a terrible wince cross her face, and then both women's feet were drench in water that seemed to be around 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Maureen dropped the ball on the desk, smashing both phones, and grabbed her stomach.

"I think I'm having a baby," she said in a fervent whisper. She and Wendy looked at their phones. "Can you call Rich? I'm going to drive to the hospital. He's at The Standard Hotel. I have to go, like now."

Maureen left the bowling alley.

Wendy asked to use the bowling alley's phone to call the hotel. "Hi, I'm calling for Rich Clark. He's in a meeting there."

"Do you know where his meeting is?" the receptionist asked.

"Um, no. I think he's in a meeting room or conference room or something," Wendy said in a panic. "I need to get a message to him. I'm his sister-in-law. I'm with his wife. Her water just broke, and she's on her way to the hospital to get checked into the maternity ward to have their baby. Can you please get the message to him?"

"Of course," the receptionist said. "We'll track him down and give him the message. Rich Clark, right?"

"Yes. Thank you," Wendy said, and made a bee-line from the bowling alley to her car, to follow her sister to the hospital.

At The Standard Hotel, the restaurant's maitre d'hotel overheard the name Rich Clark. "Are you sure the name isn't Clark Rich?" he asked. "We have a diner named Clark Rich in the restaurant. Would you like me to give him the message?"

The front desk receptionist said, "That would be amazing. Thank you."

The maitre d' found Clark and Charlotte holding hands across the table, looking longingly into each other's eyes. "You are Clark Rich, correct?" he asked.

"I am," Clark responded.

"Well, I was just given a message for you. Apparently your sister-in-law called, and your wife's water broke, and she's on her way to the hospital to have your baby."

Charlotte pulled her hand back, glaring at Clark. She picked up the goblet holding a very generous pour of red wine, threw it in Clark's face, and left the restaurant.

One hour later, Wendy and Maureen were at the hospital, and Maureen was dilated to 8 centimeters. Maureen's epidural had been light, because the anesthesiologist had said, "You want to be able to participate in pushing, don't you?"

"Give me the phone," Maureen gasped between contractions. Wendy brought her the phone. Maureen punched in Rich's cell phone number with violence never previously visited upon the device. Rich's phone, on silent, vibrated. He glanced at the display, didn't recognize the number and didn't answer, letting the call roll to voicemail.

Maureen, in a very deep, very serious tone said, "I don't care what the fuck you're doing or where the fuck you are, or why the fuck you're not here, but your baby is coming out of my vagina very soon, and if you want to have somewhere to lay your fucking head, you'd better get here real fucking soon." Her message before ending the call was followed by the sound of a painful groan.

Rich felt the vibration of the voicemail, and glanced down at the transcribed message. He looked around the room, clapped his hands together, announcing, "Sorry ladies and gentlemen. My wife is in labor and having our baby two weeks early, and she sounds very unhappy with me at the moment."

Rich made it to the hospital in time to hold one of Maureen's legs, cut the umbilical cord, and let Maureen decide the baby's name would be 'whatever the fuck I want, and it isn't Wyatt or Will.'