“That’s the spirit.” Mr. Sebastian nodded. “This is going to be the account that puts your name on the map. I see rookie of the year material.”
“Call me in the morning so we can review the key points.” Rick tried to catch her eye.
“Yes, we’ll all meet for breakfast and go over our game plan.” Mr. Sebastian motioned toward her glass. “Don’t you want your wine?”
“You enjoy it. I never developed a taste for it.” No more fake sips for her, only fake smiles. She donned another one and left.
Once more in the hotel lobby, she sighed. It was time to throw in the towel. Every aspect of her life was rife with one sort of disaster or another and it all barreled down to the fact that she didn’t take care of herself. All that awaited her in her room was silence, what ifs, and thoughts of Shane.
*~*~*
“The deed is done.” Carson slipped into the car next to Shane and grinned.
“Where are the flowers?” Shane raised his hands. They’d sent Carson to Lindsay’s work as a flower delivery guy to see if he could get information on her whereabouts.
“I have something better than flowers.” Carson did some sleight of hand and a piece of paper appeared.
“You got answers.” He grabbed the paper and almost tore it unfolding it. It was just a phone number. “What’s this?”
His brother leaned over. “That’s mine, in order to get your info I had to pay the piper.” He took the paper back and shoved it in his pocket.
“Do I want to ask?”
Carson found a second piece of notepaper. “You’re not the only one who can date a good girl. The receptionist thought I was pretty sweet, especially after I gave her the flowers.” He raised his eyebrows, grinned and held the paper out. “This is what you seek.”
Once more Shane took the paper and opened it up to a bunch of numbers. “What is this?” He fought the urge to crumple it in his fist.
“Her flight information.” Carson slid over in the seat. “Her phone is broken, but she is coming back tomorrow.”
“She went to LAX without me.” Shane ran his finger along the number of the flight. “I told her not to go to the airport.”
“Yeah, well after you showed up four hours late, she probably didn’t care about your rules anymore.” Ivan piped in from the back seat.
“I’m trying to fix this.”
“What are you planning on doing when you find her?” Ivan looked out the window.
“I screwed up, I know it. Why are you doing this now?”
“Is this why you’re so desperate to find her?” Ivan held up the tattered letter from the IRS.
“Give me that.” Shane reached for it but Ivan held it out of his reach.
“Don’t dick with her.” Ivan leaned forward.
“If that’s what you think then get out of my car.” Shane shut his eyes and clutched the steering wheel.
Carson twisted to the backseat. “What’s going on?”
The air thickened, making it impossible for Shane to breathe and he got out of the car, taking a few paces up and down the street.
“You have twenty-four hours.” Ivan came up behind him.
“Lindsay can’t know about that letter.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“She’s going to find out.”
“Not now.” He stared down the street. “She’ll think what you thought, that I only want her because of the audit. If that was the reason, I wouldn’t have asked her out at all.”
Ivan shrugged. “Fair enough.”
He turned to find Carson leaning on the car reading the letter. “Give that back to me. You never saw it.”
Carson handed it over. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s my problem.” He folded it and put it in his pocket.
Carson kicked the ground.
“Give me some time. I screwed up a lot, and I have to take care of Lindsay first, then I’ll deal with this.”
“She …” Carson pointed to Shane.
“Can’t know … doesn’t know.” He lowered his gaze. “How can I tell her now? Do this for me.”
Carson shook his head. “What’s next?”
“I have twenty-four hours.” Shane climbed back into the car. “I have twenty-four hours.”
Chapter Eighteen
“So we have our plan.” Mr. Sebastian repeated for about the fifteenth time and closed his laptop.
“Yes.” Lindsay had her own plan, but she was certain it did not coincide with Mr. Sebastian’s. She wanted to return home, but the flight kept getting delayed. Not that it mattered, there was no one waiting there for her.
“Just make sure it all adds up.” He laughed.
“Everything I do adds up like it’s supposed to.”
Mr. Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. “That’s all I ask for.”
“I follow the rules.”
“Follow them, stretch them, do whatever you need to do to them that can’t be detected.”
She faced her boss. “I won’t break them.”
He nodded. “Keep that story and remember the opportunity I gave a girl from Ohio.”
She swallowed and held her tongue. Nothing would be gained by flying off the handle. She knew what she’d do, but she needed a job until she could figure it all out.
“Another delay.” Rick came over and sat down.
Mr. Sebastian reopened his laptop. “How much longer?”
“Another hour.”
She stood. “I’m going to walk around for a bit.”
“Does our star player need a little private time?” Mr. Sebastian looked up.
“If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not, as long as we understand the rules.”
She answered him with a smile. They were playing in two different ballgames and she walked away.
As she strolled the airport, she realized how much it resembled Orange County airport. It was the same over and over again, terminals, people waiting, kiosks of junk and restaurants. If she and Shane would have had their date, she’d have been desperate to get home. Maybe she’d been choosing a cheesy souvenir for him to match the one he bought her in Hollywood.
She stepped into a gift shop wondering what she would have chosen. A snow globe? A shot glass? A magnet? Shane would have loved any of those, and she picked up a mug. It read, I left my heart in San Francisco. She inhaled. “More like Hollywood.” She set the mug down, spun around and stopped. Across the way was a collection of travelers looking as miserable as she, and she went to the bar and joined them.
“What would you like?” asked the bartender.
“Whatever’s on tap.” She pulled a book from her purse.
He set her beer and a bowl of nuts in front of her. “Just wave if you need anything.”
She attempted to taste the cold brew without thinking about Shane and ended up downing the whole glass.
“Another?” The bartender returned.
She became distracted , struggling to keep her mind on the fantasy world in her book and far from her own reality. How long did she have to relive it all? Would she ever know what kept him that night?
One beer later, a welcoming relaxation overtook her. The bar thinned out with the departure of a flight, and she counted the peanuts in the bowl.
“One more?” The bartender asked.
“I probably shouldn’t, but I want to.” It was the best she’d felt in a long time. She found one cashew in her sea of peanuts and picked it up between her fingertips hating that it was shaped like Shane’s Mohawk.
He filled her glass. “You seem deep in thought.”
For the first time since she sat down she really looked at the bartender. After blinking to clear her vision, she didn’t know if she should bust out laughing or burst into tears. The man could have worked at Permanent, with his spiked up red hair and sleeve tattoos going up both arms. The tattoo on his forearm caught her attention. It was made to look like a robot. “Biomechanical.”
“Excuse me?�
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She put her elbow on the bar and pointed. “That’s a biomechanical tattoo.”
The man looked down at his arm. “You don’t seem like the type who’d know that.”
She took another sip. “You wouldn’t believe what I know about tattoos.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“I love them.” Out of nowhere her eyes filled with tears. “I love tattoos.” She took a deep breath. “Biomechanical, black work, Celtic, Japanese, Egyptian, fine art, Polynesian, tribal, zodiac.”
“Wow.” He leaned on the bar.
“That’s right, wow.” She nodded and looked into her glass of beer.
“Where are yours?”
“I don’t have any, Shane does.” She winced.
“Ah, Shane has tattoos.” He chuckled. “Tell me about this Shane and his tattoos.”
“They’re magnificent.” She pictured running her fingers along them and arched her back. “Honestly, you’ve never seen anything like them. But do you know what’s even better?”
“Tell me.”
“The tattoos he creates.” Her mind swirled with visions of his artwork. “They’re masterpieces.”
He tilted his head. “Is he a tattoo artist?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And I’m very glad you didn’t call him a tattooer.”
“So how do mine compare?” He held his arm out.
“Oh, you never comment on someone else’s tattoo.”
“You definitely know the etiquette.” He put his arm down in front of her. “You can be truthful this one time.”
She moved her glass aside and really studied his images, wanting to give him an honest assessment. “These are very nice, but Shane’s work is beyond, I really can’t compare it to anything. There’s something about his work that is special, I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She turned away.
“So why are you here and not with him?”
How could she respond to that question? She drank a bit more and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“If you can’t tell a bartender, who can you tell?” He handed her a napkin.
She spewed her entire story to the nameless tattooed bartender in the airport bar. By the time she had emptied another glass, she also emptied her heart. “He was four hours and twelve minutes late.”
“You kept him waiting for five days.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “You made him wait for your answer for five days. He knew you doubted him and maybe when the rubber hit the road and it was time to really take you out, he got stage fright.”
“But …”
He raised his hand. “I think the reason he didn’t show isn’t because he doesn’t want you, but because he wants you too badly.”
Her breath caught.
“Did you ask him why he was late?”
She shook her head.
“He let you explain, and you wouldn’t even hear him out?”
Her heart stopped. Was that true? But he didn’t show. Her gaze traveled from her glass to her bartender and then she touched her lips. The night she showed up after Dillon, he heard her out and let her off the hook. After that he spent an hour kissing her. The memory of Shane’s lips on hers made her entire body heat up.
She shut her eyes and became a bit dizzy. “I didn’t let him say a word.” How had everything become so clear when her mind was so fuzzy?
“Just something to think about.” He wiped down the bar. “Has he called you?”
“So many times that I got frustrated and smashed my phone.” She pursed her lips.
He laughed and presented her with the bill. “I almost feel bad giving this to you.”
“I don’t.” She reached into her bag.
He leaned over the bar and smiled. “Go home to Hollywood and at least let him have his say.”
She took his hand and placed the five hundred dollars in it. “Thank you.”
“Lindsay.” Rick ran into the bar. “We have to go. They rerouted our flight to Ontario.”
“What?” She put her hand to her forehead. “I don’t want to go to Canada, I have to get to the shop.”
Rick grabbed her arm and dragged her out. “Not Canada, San Bernardino.”
Was San Bernardino on Shane’s list?
“Hey.” The bartender called after her and held up the cash.
“Thank you.” She left, knowing only two things. She needed to hear Shane out, and it was the only way she could balance her ledger.
*~*~*
Shane put his back to the wall between his and Lindsay’s apartment and turned toward her door. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Emily stood next to him.
“Do you know what you have to do?” Absolutely nothing could be left to chance.
“I have to get Lindsay’s dress and shoes for your date tonight.” She made a noise.
“What’s wrong?” He checked his phone for any updates.
“I wish you weren’t my brother and I was going out on this date. It’s going to be so perfect!”
“I think I’m going to thank you for that comment.” He read a text message and rubbed his forehead. “I think I have everything covered.”
“This will be great.” Emily shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“If she goes.” His sister was the only person with whom he could voice his worst fear. “Oh man.”
“She has to go.” Emily hugged him from behind. “You were late.”
“Late is ten minutes, pissed off late is a half hour, after four hours, I stood her up.”
“It’s all Dillon’s fault.” She stomped her foot.
“It’s not.” He snapped. “I’m the one who didn’t show, not Dillon.”
Emily rested her head on Shane’s back.
“I called in every favor on this planet.” He laughed. “I’ll be tattooing for free for a while.”
“Well Lindsay said it’s good to barter if you can.”
“I should be good to go then. Everyone I know has a hand in trying to make this the perfect date. I just have to show her the kind of guy I can be.” He didn’t really mean to say that out loud, but his sister hugged him tighter.
“Just be you and be honest and she will love it.”
He exhaled, his sister didn’t know about the IRS letter and neither would Lindsay. “Let’s do this.”
“Do you have a key?”
“Key?” He clenched his fist. “I really need to work on that.” Out of nowhere, the craving to bite down on a pencil overtook him. He reached in his pocket and handed Emily his phone. “Call Carson.”
She dialed. “Why?”
He pushed her back and ran right toward the door, kicking it down exactly as he had the night he met her. Again, the door broke from the hinge, only this time he also managed to destroy the doorjamb too. “Tell him Lindsay’s door is broken.”
The scent of Lindsay hit his nostrils and he closed his eyes. It was a little bit of floral mixed with only what he would call clean and soft. God, he missed her. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“I’ll go find her outfit.” Emily disappeared into her bedroom.
“Thanks.” He opened a cabinet and stared inside. Everything was perfectly neat. When he unpacked her, all her possessions were still in the original store boxes. Lost in his thoughts he opened another cabinet to more of the same and then turned and took in the whole place. Her living room looked like a model home, not a run-down Hollywood apartment.
He studied a blown glass vase and next to it a matching paperweight. On the wall above her couch was a painting that picked up the colors of her accessories. It was too planned. Absolutely nothing felt personal. He never noticed before because Lindsay was always here and the background faded.
“Shane.” Emily called. He turned to see her holding Lindsay’s dress.
“Is this going to make her even madder at you?”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.” The vibe in the apartment seemed off, and
he opened a drawer on the side table. It was empty. No junk, nothing. He went to her desk, except for his financial paperwork, it was more of the same. Piles of vanilla ice cream. No nuts, no hot fudge, no sprinkles, no Lindsay.
“What are you doing?” Emily put the dress over a chair grabbed his arm. “You can’t go through her things!”
“These aren’t her things.” He shook his sister off his arm and he marched into the bedroom. Once again nothing out of place, every pillow, the comforter, the picture above the bed and the lamps on the nightstands, all perfect, planned and pristine.
“Hey.” His sister ran into the room.
“Clean slate.” He ignored her and went to the bathroom and found the same.
“What are you talking about?” She yelled. “We shouldn’t be snooping.”
He stuck his head in her closet. Some clothes still had tags dangling from them. Then he remembered something and slid the clothes aside.
“Shane,” Emily growled.
“The day we unpacked for her, she took that box and told Ivan twice that she didn’t want to unpack it.” He stared down the plain cardboard box. On top of it were her horse awards and next to it another matching box.
“Explain.” She grabbed his sleeve.
“Look around.” He got down on his knees and reached for the box needing to know what secrets it held. “There’s nothing of her in her apartment, it has to be in here.”
“No! Please don’t.” Emily pulled him. “Look Shane.”
Emily pointed to the far side of Lindsay’s bed. “She said she needed to hang a few pictures. Let’s see what they are.”
“It’s probably just more hotel art.”
Emily crawled over and picked up the first frame and with her lips pressed together turned the picture toward him.
“That’s mine.” He sat down on the beige carpet and took in the picture of a water lily he gave her. It was professionally framed. “I hope she went to Stuart to have that done.”
Emily set the picture aside and lifted the next one.
“Ivan’s.” He assessed the detailed mountain landscape.
“Carson’s.” Emily said as she showed him another.
Permanent (Indelibly Marked) (Volume 1) Page 17
