The Wrong Time

by Alana Jade

  “Oh my God,” I cry, not believing my eyes.

  “Georgia, this is Chef Bouron and Oliver from Lighthouse Restaurant. They’re here to cook an amazing breakfast for us both today, especially since the day I have planned for you, you’ll need a hearty breakfast.”

  I look at him confused before turning my attention back to the chef and waiter.

  “Hello,” I say to both of them.

  “Bonjour. Bon anniversaire, mademoiselle,” Chef Bouron says in his native French. It’s just made everything feel slightly fancier, and I can’t stop a giggle escaping my mouth. “Please, sit down. Monsieur Cunningham has prepared a menu for your breakfast today. All of your favorite foods.”

  “You made a menu?” I ask Adam.

  He nods a reply.

  I’ve said it fifty times this morning, but I can’t stop myself, “Wow.”

  Adam pulls the chair out for me, and I sit down as Oliver, the waiter, takes my napkin, flicks it out, and lays it across my lap.

  He’s arranged all sorts of food from eggs cooked any way I’d like, to crispy bacon, sausage, and breakfast potatoes, omelets, croissants, and, of course, some French breakfast puffs. I remember when I was a very little girl, and Dad used to buy these on a special occasion for me. They are mouth-watering.

  It’s incredible that Adam’s gone to all this trouble for my birthday breakfast. I feel guilty that I ask for an omelet and some crispy bacon. Adam decides to eat as much as he physically can, and orders what Oliver calls a big breakfast consisting of most of the items on his menu.

  Watching Chef Bouron cook my omelet is mesmerizing. He cracks the eggs without even blinking his eyes and adds in ingredients like mushrooms, ham, spinach, peppers, and cheese at the flick of his wrist.

  Within fifteen minutes, we are eating our breakfast and enjoying a beautiful rich roast of coffee.

  I swallow a mouthful of food before asking Adam what’s next on my itinerary today.

  “The next part is sadly without me. I’m sending you to Katinka to get your hair done. After that is your nail appointment, then I thought maybe you’d like a neck and back massage. You’ll receive an envelope at each other these places which will contain clues to where we’re going tonight. Don’t peek, though, until you’ve had all of your pampering done.”

  “Wow,” I say again like I’m a broken record.

  We finish our food in almost silence. I’m still blown away by the effort Adam has gone to for today. It’s amazing.

  I thank Chef Bouron and Oliver over and over for coming all this way to cook breakfast for me before I stand from my chair and kiss Adam goodbye.

  He informs me that he’s arranged a driver to take me to my hairdressing appointment, and that the driver will collect and take me to every place I need to go today. He also knows the end destination in case I don’t understand Adam’s clues.

  Chef Bouron hands me a plastic takeout container with a ham and cheese croissant contained inside. “You sound busy today, Mademoiselle. You will need to eat.”

  “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful,” I say to the chef before turning to Adam. “Can you get any of the leftover food taken downstairs for the employees?”

  “It’s already been arranged. Enjoy your day.”

  I kiss Adam again before heading out, feeling a little guilty that I’m leaving others to clean up my mess. Courtney stands from her desk as I walk past, and I assume she must be helping with the clean up too.

  As the doors close on the elevator, I smile at what an amazing morning I’ve had, and it’s barely nine-thirty.

  Adam sure knows how to make a girl feel amazing on her birthday.

  Georgia

  The car pulls up at the hair salon, the word ‘Katinka’s’ is in fancy gold writing on the glass window. It’s a very nice part of the city, high end, and I feel completely underdressed to be even driving through this area, let alone getting out and visiting a hair salon. Gym leggings and a baggy sweater definitely isn’t appropriate attire around here.

  I look left and right, making sure no one can really see me before the driver opens the car door for me. Stepping outside, I get inside as quickly as I can and stand at the reception desk.

  “Darling, you must be Georgia.” A beautiful, tall woman with jet black hair and a flame-red streak at the front says to me.

  “Yes, I am.” I smile.

  “Firstly, happy birthday. Come… sit. I’m Katinka. This is my salon, and today we are going to make you feel like a princess.”

  “Thank you.”

  I sit next to a woman who has enough foil in her hair to contact the space station.

  “Can I get you a tea or coffee, honey?” a woman calls from behind Katinka.

  “Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “Oh, you’re so polite, darling, and so gorgeous. Is this your natural color and length?” she asks, taking my poor attempt of a braid out of my hair and letting it fall down my back.

  “I had some foils put in once, but that was years ago now. It hasn’t been cut in so long.”

  “But it’s so healthy. Darling, do you trust me?”

  Who asks someone who they’ve just met if they trust them with their hair?

  “Um… I think so. My only request is low maintenance and to keep most of the length.”

  “Mr. Cunningham told us the same thing.” She smiles. “You’ve sure got an amazing man there, someone who arranges all of these fantastic things for your birthday.”

  “He is wonderful,” I gloat unintentionally.

  It takes her a good fifteen minutes to brush out my hair, and Katinka and another consultant study my hair after that before suggesting some lighter highlights around my face and adding some body to my hair.

  I agree with what they say, not really knowing what I’m getting myself in to. Although highlights don’t sound too bad.

  Katinka goes away for a short amount of time before coming back with a black trolley with long strips of aluminum foil and a black pot of pinkish colored goop just as another woman brings over my cup of tea.

  It takes her what feels like an hour to do a heap of little sections of my hair, and I end up with enough foil that could rival the space-station lady, and by the time she leaves me to let the color work, my tea is stone cold. It’s as though someone reads my mind, and I get another hot cup placed in front of me, this time with a cookie. The lady’s name tag reads trainee and Kira. She looks older than me, so it’s a little strange she’s a trainee, but no judgment from me. She might be starting over in her career. Her hair is gorgeous, even longer than mine and a mass of curls.

  “That is such a stunning ring, honey. Are you newly married?” she asks.

  “Thank you. No. My boyfriend gave me this as a promise ring for my birthday today.”

  “That’s so sweet and old-fashioned. I love it. Don’t let go of that man, honey. He’s a keeper.”

  As I finish my third cup of tea, Katinka comes back and checks my hair.

  “Perfect. Time to rinse. She shows me over to a basin and asks me to sit.

  When she’s finished, a towel is placed over my hair, and she quickly removes the excess water before showing me back to my seat.

  Looking in the mirror, I can already see the lighter blonde around my face, and it’s really pretty. Somehow, it makes my eyes stand out even more.

  Adam will love this.

  She combs my hair out again and then asks one more time if I trust her. I smile politely and nod my head as she grabs her scissors and sections my hair. I know it’s quite long, but even the amount she’s cutting off is making me a little sad.

  Once the haircut is over, she blow-dries and then uses a straightener, but flicks it around, making it curl. It’s a soft look but really pretty.

  Picking up a large mirror, Katinka shows me the back of my hair. Even with the curls, it’s a few inches below my bra strap, and I love it. The color is great, and somehow my head feels a little lighter than it was before this started.

&n
bsp; After thanking her and the other consultants in the salon, I quickly use their powder room before Katinka hands me a red envelope and wishes me a wonderful birthday. I shove the envelope in my bag with my clothes, so I don’t tempt myself to open it.

  I walk outside, expecting my driver to still be there, but Andrew’s nowhere to be seen. I take a short walk up the street, and then back down, checking every driveway for the car.

  Looking at the time, I know that Adam will be in his meeting with Darius, Max, Johanna, and Basil, so now isn’t the time to disturb him. I decide to pull my cell out and type the address into Google Maps. Lucky for me, it’s roughly a block and a half away, and the massage place is next door, so I decide to walk the distance, hoping the driver assumes that’s what I’ll do and is waiting for me at the massage salon later.

  Several times during my walk, I thank Adam for telling me to wear comfortable clothing which includes running shoes. I don’t think I could have walked this far in a pair of heels or even flats.

  Hunger pangs strike, and I decide to stop for a minute to consume my croissant before continuing on to the nail salon. I jog the last part of the trip when I realize it’s almost my appointment time—I hate being late.

  Damn my need for food.

  The ladies in the nail salon are very friendly and all comment on my ring, which I have to, unfortunately, take off for my manicure. I panic for a moment, not sure where to put it, not wanting to leave it on the table just in case it gets misplaced. So, I carefully unhook the shoulder strap of my bra and thread my ring onto it before connecting it back. For a temporary solution, it’s not too bad of an idea.

  I choose a pale pink color for my nails and toenails, adding a touch of glitter to my ring finger. Seems one already sparkles with my beautiful ring, so I may as well add a little more.

  She tells me my makeup for the night has been included as well. So, I sit in a higher chair while more makeup than I ever wear is applied to my face, including winged eyeliner.

  I have to admit, when she’s finished, I look amazing. You can tell I’m wearing makeup, but it’s not over the top. Natural was the word the lady repeated to me over and over again.

  The lady hands me another red envelope with a giant number two written on the front before I leave and walk next door for my massage. Again, I shove the second envelope into my bag.

  It’s only a mini massage, so I’m in and out of there in half an hour, but what a relaxing massage in such a short amount of time. I’ll definitely be coming back.

  As I collect my bag, I’m handed the third and final envelope.

  Leaving the shop, I again look up and down the street for the car, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe I’m earlier than they thought? So, I decide to sit down and have a milkshake at the little café next door, hoping my driver will show up soon.

  I order a chocolate milkshake with the works. If you can’t treat yourself on your birthday, then when can you.

  While waiting for it to be brought out to me, I decide to open envelope one. I guess I can now.

  I pull the tab, and out falls a small white piece of paper, neatly folded.

  Opening it up, it says…

  What you were parked under when we re-met.

  My brows furrow as I try and work out his clue. I draw a blank. I was in a parking lot in my old bomb of a car. Tree? Sky?

  Then suddenly it dawns on me. “Light,” I say to myself. The lady on the next table who’s spoon-feeding the froth of her hot drink to her dog—who must think it’s human as it’s sitting on a chair—turns and looks at me like I’m crazy.

  I politely smile.

  I was parked under a streetlight. Maybe that’s it? I’m not very good at puzzles and riddles, but that sort of makes sense. Hopefully, Adam’s made the next two clues as easy.

  My drink is brought to the table, and I take a large sip, the delectable chocolate making my taste buds sing.

  I pull out envelope two and rip it open. A picture falls out this time. It’s a lovely photograph of our house decorated with all of the Christmas lights. I start guessing words again, but none of them make any sense. Christmas? Lights? Garden? Show? Maybe he’s taking me to a Christmas light show.

  Putting the picture aside for a minute, I remember my ring, and discreetly unclip my bra, slip the ring back on my finger and reclip it. I admire it there for a moment, the setting sun making it twinkle even more.

  After counting my blessings for having such an amazing man, I rip open envelope number three. I know it’s technically cheating seeing as I haven’t worked out the second clue yet, but I figure maybe I need clue three to work out clue two.

  Where we had a magical night.

  Eeek. That doesn’t help me at all. I sit for a minute thinking, taking another large sip of my drink as if that will help me think.

  Magical night. We’ve had quite a few.

  My cell dings, and I swipe to open it.

  Adam: Any luck with the clues yet?

  I quickly type my reply.

  Me: Nope, I’m stuck on the last one.

  I see the three dots and wonder if he’s going to give me a clue or not.

  Adam: Think our first one. Just finishing up a meeting. Meet you soon.

  A smile spreads across my face. The revolving restaurant.

  Light. Restaurant, and whatever the picture of the house means.

  Think Georgia, it can’t be that hard.

  It suddenly becomes clear.

  Light. House. Restaurant.

  The Lighthouse Restaurant.

  Perhaps Chef Bouron was a clue this morning too.

  I finish the remainder of my drink and look up and down the street again. I still can’t see my driver, Andrew, so I call Adam to find out what’s going on. But it rings out. Of course, it would, he’s in a meeting now and never answers his cell.

  Groaning to myself, I wonder what I should do.

  Collecting my bag, I walk into the café and use their bathroom to change into my dress and shoes for the night just as they’re closing for the day. I then walk back outside and wait for another few minutes before trying to reach Adam again.

  But he doesn’t answer.

  It’s getting close to five. Where can he be?

  A taxi pulls up outside the café, and an elderly lady gets out. I look around before deciding that I’ll take the taxi to the Lighthouse Restaurant instead. It’s getting dark, and the last place I want to be is in a strange neighborhood, dressed like this, and no driver available.

  I slide into the rear seat. “The Lighthouse Restaurant, please.” The driver leaves the curb before turning around, and then my eyes bulge when I see who it is, and my heart jumps to my throat.

  “Georgia, you look amazing.”

  “Zac?”

  Adam

  It’s nearing five when I finally get out of the meeting with my executives. What was meant to be an hour-long meeting turned into a future planning meeting where we discussed everything from what will happen over Christmas, who’s having leave, and what we hope to achieve for the next six months.

  Christmas. Crap! Got to finalize Georgia’s gift and make it as pretty as I can.

  Johanna, Darius, and Max have left for the day. Basil didn’t say what he was doing but did speak about Uber Eats several times. He has some paperwork to get to me by the beginning of next week, so there’s a good chance he’ll be staying back tonight to get that done. Basil’s definitely the kind of person who would rather put in an extra hour now and get it out of the way instead of rushing around at the last minute to finalize things. I think that’s one of the reasons why we get along so well. We’re very similar in so many ways.

  I informed my close staff that I will be taking Georgia on a holiday in the new year as part of her Christmas gift. It’s only for a week, but I wish to be not disturbed at all while I’m gone unless it’s a matter of life or death.

  The boys have agreed to support Johanna while I’m away, but I get the feeling that they aren’t over
ly happy about it, given she hasn’t performed as well as we’d hoped. I can’t imagine that there will be any big deals, and if there is, they can put them off for a week. Minor maintenance and the closing of some small deals will be the only issues they’ll have to handle. Hell, I’d probably trust Fernando to close the small ones. Let’s face it, they aren’t hard.

  I feel my cell buzz again in my pocket. It piques my interest as it’s late in the day.

  The first four notifications are from Georgia. Three phone calls and a text. Ah, shit! I hope she hasn’t gotten lost, or can’t work out the clues. I tried to make it as easy as I could without writing it bluntly on a piece of paper.

  Reading her text makes my heart race.

  Georgia: No driver. Caught taxi. Zac driver.

  Fuck! I’m not sure how to deal with this. Where the fuck is Andrew? Why is Zac driving a taxi? We don’t know if Zac’s in a good state of mind or not. He was obviously very angry when he left here, especially after what he did to my car. What if he’s still on drugs, and he’s driving with the love of my life in the car?

  I frantically try and ring her back, but she’s not picking up. It’s likely she’s put her cell on silent and it’s at the bottom of her bag. So, I read the other text, and it’s from Zac’s personal cell.

  Zac: Have your girl. She’ll be safe with me.

  How am I meant to take that text message? Is he fucking with me? Or could she be genuinely safe?

  I call Zac’s cell, and while he answers, it’s a very short-lived phone call.

  “Man, I’m driving. She’ll be at the restaurant soon.” His voice is smooth and calm. Not edgy like it was when we last saw him. He hangs up on me.

  My mind races with a million thoughts. This could either go one of two ways.

  She’s perfectly fine.

  Or, he’s fucking with us.