You Can Trust Me, page 6
He raises his eyebrows and flicks his eyes down to my sweats and flip-flops, wordlessly reminding me that I am not dressed for this hotel. “Did you want me to place that call for you? I can’t connect you directly.”
“That’s fine. I’m just here picking up a friend. It’s Michael Forrester’s room.”
He click-clacks the keyboard. “Unfortunately, Mr. Forrester already checked out. Are you sure your friend isn’t waiting for you in the lobby somewhere? There’s also a patio that wraps around the side.” He points out the windows.
I stare at him dumbly. That can’t be right. “Checked out?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pinches his lips together primly.
I check my phone. No word from Leo. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“I am.” He indicates the monitor of his computer.
“Can you call up there?”
He sighs almost imperceptibly. “All right.” He picks up the receiver and dials something. It seems to be ringing and ringing. He says, “Nope. No one there,” and sets the receiver down.
I try to quell the wave of anxiety rising up inside me, a visceral reaction to being disconnected. I reassure myself that this is probably just Leo fumbling logistics, forgetting her charger, or it’s her and Michael going to get lunch and forgetting to call me. Except it’s five o’clock, too late for lunch, and she’s supposed to check in when she wakes up after spending the night with someone.
I tell the concierge, “I’m going to look around for her, okay?”
“Good luck,” he croons with fake sympathy.
I want to flip him off. Instead, I hurry through the lobby to the ladies’ room where Leo had done her impromptu Rascal Flatts karaoke session. I peek under the stall doors, but no one is in here.
Back out in the lobby, I search every corner, go out onto the patio, into the restaurant. No Leo. I ask the restaurant hostess if there’s a reservation for Michael, or if Michael has been in today. She says no.
I hurry up the stairs to the second-floor patio where Michael’s party took place last night. It’s been transformed into a lounge area for hotel guests and is mostly empty. I check the bathroom. Nothing.
My heart is fully pounding now, about to thump right out of my chest. I trot back down the stairs to the concierge, who is now helping a rich, angry woman resolve a dispute with housekeeping. I wait, jittery and impatient, and when he’s done, he turns to me with a pained smile. “Any luck?”
“No. Can you have someone go up and check the room in person? I need to know for sure she isn’t in there.”
“Ma’am—” He stops. “You know what? Fine.” He gets a walkie-talkie and tells someone, “Can you please check Room 514? We need confirmation that the guests have checked out. Please knock before entering. Thank you.” He sets the walkie-talkie down. “We’ll have an answer shortly.”
I call Leo on my cell while we wait. It goes straight to voicemail.
I try to be logical. Let’s say her phone died. What would she do if she didn’t have a charger? Maybe she would email me from one of Michael’s devices. I check my email. Nothing. Anyway, it doesn’t track. Michael is a billionaire. Her iPhone takes a standard charger, the same kind everyone uses. There’s no way in hell he couldn’t just have someone bring her a new one.
Maybe she didn’t notice her phone was dead until they’d already parted ways. In that case, she’d go where the truck had been parked yesterday, assuming it would still be there. I hadn’t told her I planned to do laundry.
The concierge catches my attention. “Ma’am? They’ve confirmed the room is empty. Someone else should be checking into that suite shortly.”
“Can I give you my number? In case she comes here looking for me?”
He takes a deep, long-suffering breath. “Of course.”
I give him the number and show him a photo of her. “I’m going home in two hours,” he tells me. “But I’ll pass the info along to the next concierge on duty.”
I almost run to my truck, get in, and gun it, searching for the spot we’d parked in last night. It’s not far away, just a few blocks in a different direction. That particular space is occupied now, but I find another across the street. I grab a protein bar out of the food cabinet and settle in the driver’s seat, eyes on the spot that now contains a white Prius. If she comes, I don’t want to miss her.
The sun is lowering in the sky. I have to meet Alan at eight. I should cancel, I think, but then something hits me.
He might be able to tell me where Michael is, or at least Alan can call him on his cell and find out.
Excited, I climb into the back and start getting ready.
* * *
—
The Japanese restaurant is trendy and minimalist with just a small white sign outside reading “sushi” in lowercase, upside-down letters.
A host with immaculately applied eye makeup opens the heavy steel-and-glass door for me. “Good afternoon,” they purr, their voice actor-smooth.
“Hello. I’m meeting—”
“Summer.” Alan steps forward from a place he’s been hovering near the host stand, eyes shining with happiness as if he’d thought I might stand him up. I can see from his face that my outfit is landing exactly how I’d intended. I went with an expensive romper in white and styled my long hair in curling-iron waves; I’m cosplaying a basic wealthy woman from Newport Beach. “You look incredible,” he says, pulling me toward him and kissing my cheek.
I allow it, giving him an extra moment with me pressed up against his chest, before I step back. I’ve decided my persona with him will be demure and sweet, one of the nice, nonthreatening girls he probably thinks don’t exist in bodies like mine.
“Thank you for the invitation. I’m so happy to see you again.” The words make his cheeks pink up, a little win for me. I’m itching to ask about Leo and Michael but force myself to be patient.
He’s a bit cuter than I remember, with a nice face and pretty brown eyes. When set against the restaurant full of L.A. people, all tanned and fit and glowing like they’re in possession of some secret health serum, he looks very indoorsy. He’s a few inches taller than me, maybe five ten, and is wearing dry-cleaned jeans with a striped button-down tucked into them. It’s like his mom dressed him for a date in high school.
A hostess shows us to a table in the back. Alan asks me if I’ve eaten sushi before. I tell him yes, but he still explains how the menu works. I smile and nod, eyes on the prize.
Once we’ve gotten our drinks, Alan leans forward across the table and says, “So tell me about yourself.”
I sip my drink. I hate white wine, but it seemed right for this persona. “First, can I ask you something? I know I’m being a worrywart, but I haven’t heard from my friend today. I know she spent the night with Michael, but he checked out of the hotel this morning, and there’s been no word from her.”
He cocks his head. “Is it possible she’s got something else going on? Do you hear from her every day?”
I nod. “We’re roommates. She’d never let me worry like this, not after a date.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Well, this is easily solved. I’ll call Michael.”
Relief cascades through my chest, and I put a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
He beams, the hero, and puts the phone to his ear. It goes straight to voicemail, which sends a frown flickering across his face, but then he says, “Oh, it’s the eighth, right? She can’t be with him. He’s gone to the island. We have an event there this weekend.”
“The island?” I echo, confused.
“Tenet Holdings, Michael’s company, has a research facility dedicated to wind and wave energy. It’s one of our most—” He clears his throat. “It’s a flashy project. They needed someone with solid credentials to oversee it. That’s me. It’s housed on an island off the coast, near Catalina.”
I process this, trying to understand. “So he’s there for the weekend?”
He nods, sipping his drink. “We have an investors’ weekend. We do them biannually. We invite current and potential investors to view updates and, you know, show off the tech. They bring wives and girlfriends, and we make a party out of it.” He grins.
“Could Leo have gone with Michael to the island?”
He lifts his shoulders. “I doubt it, but I can’t be sure. He’s never brought a date before, but I guess you never know.”
“Could you email him and ask?”
He winces. “Sure, but he’ll be offline till Monday. He has a policy of separating himself from admin and focusing on higher-level cerebral work when he’s on the island.”
I take a long sip of my wine and try to organize the thoughts flying through my mind. Leo would want to see the island if she found out about it. She can be very convincing and completely single-minded once she’s decided she wants something.
Leo’s been bored with me. She’s been itching to do something new.
Where worry had set up shop in my stomach, anger and resentment are starting to amalgamate. I can see it: Leo caught up in the moment, finagling an invitation to the island, not even considering how scared I’d be after she didn’t call or text.
“Are you okay?” Alan asks.
I snap my eyes onto him. “Yes. Thank you. You’re incredibly kind.” I decide I’m going to get this guy to take me to the island as his date, and when I get there, I’m going to have it out with Leo. If she wants to leave me, she’s welcome to go anytime. But to walk away without even a text? To leave me afraid that something horrible had happened to her after the years I’ve supported and looked after her? No. Absolutely not.
My brain snaps into calculations, and I appraise the man before me. He was boasting about his position with Tenet Holdings, which speaks to an ocean of underlying insecurity. He was no doubt a nerdy kid. Lots of teasing, lots of belittling, lots of alpha males making him feel small. As a grown man, he’ll always feel like he has something to prove. My approach needs to be about making him feel big, strong, special, alpha.
I make my eyes big and wistful. “You’re so lucky you get to work on an island. Is it beachy like Catalina?”
He nods, proud. “It’s gorgeous. Beautiful sandy beaches, lots of hiking trails. I’m there about half the time, and you do start to get island fever.”
“If it’s a research facility, where do you stay?”
“Oh, there’s a massive residential side to the island. It’s like a resort.”
I realize what I’m hearing: The upcoming weekend will be spent in a resortlike setting with who knows how many wealthy investors. I start picturing diamond earrings and money clips.
I smile sweetly. “I absolutely adore all things related to the beach. Nothing makes me happier than lying out in the sun and swimming all day. I have a serious bikini collection, it’s ridiculous.” I laugh at myself, covering my mouth, pretending I’ve said too much and am embarrassed. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear about that.” This is how I make him feel like a big man: I use myself as currency.
His eyes are stretched wide. “No, it’s nice,” he replies, so eager, it’s funny. As Leo says, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
I shift position to give him a clearer view of my cleavage. “So do you have a date lined up for this weekend? A wife or girlfriend? I’m not out to dinner with a married man, am I?”
“Not at all. I’m as single as they come. You know…” He hesitates. “Well, maybe not. Never mind.”
I’m so close. I can feel it. “What is it?”
His cheeks turn pink again. “Sorry. That’s—”
“You have to tell me now!” I grab the material of his striped shirtsleeve. He grins and shakes his head, and I cry out in protest. “Alan, you’re mean! You have to tell me what you were going to say!” If I met myself right now, I would despise me.
His face is fully red, a deep blush. “I was just going to say, I am allowed to bring a plus-one to this weekend if I want to. But then I realized, this is our first date. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“That’s so sweet!” I actually croon the words. “You are so incredibly kind to think of me for that. But please don’t worry. I totally understand, you don’t feel ready to bring me there for a whole weekend, it’s our first date, I get it—”
“No,” he protests. “I was more thinking, I wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and then we laugh at the same time. “This is funny,” I say. “We’re both worried the other person is offended or something.”
He reaches for my chin, tilts my face toward him, and kisses me softly on the lips, which is where this was always headed. I allow him to linger on it, working hard not to pull away or make grossed-out facial expressions.
When he pulls back, I look him in the eyes for a moment, then avert my gaze down to my wine like I can’t stand how attracted to him I am. “Well, now I’m shy. It’s so hard meeting people in the city, and most of the men you meet are shallow and stupid. I just really like you.”
“Don’t be shy.” His voice is gritty. He’s gotten a taste and is picturing me naked. “It’s crazy, I know, but you’d be welcome to come with me this weekend if you want to see the island. There are beautiful beaches, a spa, lots to do. I’ll be busy working a lot of the time, and you’d have your own room, so I wouldn’t be constantly bothering you. No worries if you don’t want to, but I thought I’d offer, just in case—”
“Alan.” I put my hand on top of his. “I would love to.”
And that is how it’s done.
CHAPTER NINE
LEO
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7
The golden lamplight cast soft shadows over our bare skin, limbs intertwined in the tangled bedclothes. I was lying on my back, one hand stroking Michael’s hair, and he was resting his head on my chest, tracing ticklish fingertips across my stomach. “Tell me again where you’re from,” he said after we’d been quiet for a blissful stretch of minutes.
“Fresno.” The hotel room had so much open air, and my voice disappeared off into it. This was the penthouse, and it had vaulted ceilings and a skylight through which I could see the stars. It was wonderful, the opposite of claustrophobic. If I stayed the night, I’d sleep like a baby.
“And why did you leave?” His hand rested on my hip, fitting itself to the curve of my hip bone.
“It’s a sad story,” I warned him.
He propped himself up on an elbow so he could see my face. His hair was messy, a stray lock flopping down over one of his deep blue eyes. “I can handle sad.”
He seemed like he could, so I told him the truth. “My sister died when I was sixteen.” I didn’t say her name. I never said it out loud.
He winced. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“So you left after high school? Too many bad memories?”
“Not quite.” I hesitated, then went with the truth again. “Everything fell apart pretty quickly after she died. My parents. Everything. I left when I was seventeen. Never finished school.”
He put a hand to my forehead and stroked the hair back from it. “That is a sad story.”
“We were a normal family. House in the suburbs, I ran track. My mom stayed home. Lots of baking…” I trailed off, unable to say more. I’d reached my limit. The past was too close right now. I preferred to feel like I’d put a lot of miles between it and me, like I’d traveled so far from it that I couldn’t even see it in the rearview mirror anymore.
When Amanda died, I’d realized that everything my parents had worked so hard for—stability, family—was bullshit. There was no safety in this world, no permanence. Family could be snatched from you overnight as easily as losing jewelry in a swimming pool.
When we got the news, I left my house at two o’clock in the morning, walking through the dark streets alone. I should have been terrified to leave the house, but no. It worked the opposite. I’d realized that nowhere was safe, and that my days on this earth were numbered whether I did everything right or wrong.
That year, my mom descended into an alcoholic stupor. My dad became a gaunt phantasm haunting the rooms of our dusty house. School was worse, filled with pitying looks and the ghost of Amanda’s presence, agonizingly real everywhere I turned. And then there was my own face; my whole life, people would stop us at the mall, in restaurants, at Disneyland, always to tell us how pretty we were and how much alike we looked. But now Amanda was dead and neither of my parents could look at me without their eyes filling with tears. They were grieving her death, but they were also grieving the loss of who they thought I was. The Leo they knew wouldn’t have done what I did, and every time I made eye contact with either of them, the weight of my guilt struck me over and over again until I was like a boxer knocked down one too many times, unable to lift myself even to my knees.
So I left. A few years later, I met Summer, and I had a sister again. And here we were, five years on the road together.
Michael was looking down at me with sympathetic eyes that were a deep shade of navy in the dim half-light. “You okay?”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to cry. The past was a million miles behind me.
He leaned down to kiss me, and the soft hair on his chest tickled the smooth skin on mine. When he pulled back, he said, “Let me take you on a little adventure.”
I grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language. What kind?”
“Do you like boats?”
“I do like boats. Why do you ask?”
“Because I have one and I want to show it to you. We can take a nighttime ride.”
I gasped, delighted. “Like a sailboat?”
