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When we get back to the hotel we chat for a while, rehashing the meeting, sharing a couple more stories about our lives. I told him about how my bad pottery class led to my job at Ellison media, and he told me about his first pitch meeting with Chelsea Miller when he tried to hand her a pen and it exploded all over her. She ended up laughing hysterically, which is why he thinks she likes him so much.
But later, Chris decides to go to the gym, while I take a nap. I’m more exhausted from last night’s play time than I’m ever going to admit to him. When I wake up from the nap, I feel so much better, and I can hear Chris taking a shower. I glance at the clock, and I see that it’s been a couple of hours. Perfect. In a little while Chris offered to take me to dinner so we can get to know each other in a more traditional manner. It’s really a date, which tickles me, because I never actually thought that I would have a date with Christopher Flintlock. But now that I do, it fills my chest with a happy warmth.
I close my eyes, content to doze until Chris gets out of the shower, when I hear his phone ring. It’s coming from over on the table where he left it. I listen to see if it seems like he’s wrapping up in the shower, but I can’t tell. For all I know that could be Jason, telling us the fate of the deal. I try to get up but my feet get tangled in the sheets and I stumble. I try to get across the room before the ringing ends, but I’m not successful. When I pick up the phone it says ‘One missed call.’
But a few seconds later the voicemail icon pops up. I click it immediately. If it’s Jason, Chris will want to know right away.
It’s not Jason.
Instead, I hear the familiar voice of Maureen. “Hi Chris, it’s Maureen. We got the message about how unhappy you are with Scarlett. You were right, sending her was a mistake in the first place. She’s not ready for this. We finally have someone well enough to take her place. So, since your trip is almost over, let me know if you need them to take a late flight to New York tonight. But whatever the case, we’ll get Scarlett on the first plane home. Talk to you soon.”
I stare at the phone like it’s an alien that just dropped from the sky. What? What message is she talking about? Has Chris been hiding the fact that he’s really unhappy with my contributions so he could keep the peace and get rid of me? That would make the most sense. We had to be in close quarters because of the room situation, and he didn’t want to turn it ugly by telling me I was bad at my job even if I was. On top of that, he chose to take advantage of me. I’ll be lucky if I still have a job when I get back to Seattle. First I didn’t perform well, and then I performed way too well in the one way colleagues aren’t supposed to. My own phone chimes from my coat, and I know that Maureen has sent me the details of my flight back.
There’s a pain in my chest and I give it a beat to sit there before I shove it away. If this what he wants, fine. I’m bigger than this. I can handle it. I can go back to the central office and pick up whatever pieces he left me. But I don’t want to have to see him before I do it. I didn’t bring many things with me, so it takes only a few minutes to throw everything into my suitcase. I leave my key on the table, and I throw on my coat. The water of the shower is still running as I leave him behind.
11
Chris
I come out of the bathroom to a strange kind of silence. “Scarlett?”
She’s nowhere to be seen in the small suite, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She could have gone down the hall to the vending machines. I cross to my clothes and something gives me pause. My phone is on the coffee table. Before I went down to the gym I had left it on the table. I glance towards her room, and a sickening sense of foreboding settles in my gut. Her room is empty. Not just that she’s not in it, her things are gone. Her suitcase, everything that she had stashed on the bedside table.
What the fuck?
I pick up the phone. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, but if my phone is the only thing of mine that moved, than it has to be part of the reason she left. I didn’t think she would just leave without saying goodbye. I thought we were having a good time, that we were both looking forward to dinner. I can’t think when I’m still dripping wet. I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt, opening my phone again. I see there’s a phone call from when I was in the shower. Scarlett answered my phone? Well yeah, idiot, she might have if she thought that it was Jason calling about the deal and you weren’t there to answer. But the missed call isn’t from Jason, it’s from the Seattle office.
That sense of dread is growing in my gut, and I flip over to the voicemail tab. There it is, a minute after the call. I press play, and hear Maureen’s cool voice on the other end. Shit. I listen to the message, my horror only growing, realizing what Scarlett must have heard, what she must have though. Shit. “Shit.” It’s so bad that I have to say it out loud.
I’m flipping through my emails, finding the one with Scarlett’s contact information, and I’m relieved that it’s still there and she didn’t delete it. I call the number, hoping desperately that she’ll pick up and I can tell her to just come back. But no, the phone rings until her voice picks up on the other end, asking me to leave a message. I call again. Maybe she’s ignoring me after what she heard in the message. I know that if I were in her position I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.
God, I’m such a dick. I can’t even believe I tried to have her fired for spilling coffee and falling over. What kind of an ass am I to do that, especially with her in the room?
She’s probably on the way to the airport right now, but I have no idea which one. I call Maureen back, my leg bouncing anxiously while I wait for her to pick up. It’s three hours earlier in Seattle—she should still be in the office.
“This is Maureen.”
“Maureen,” I say, “this is Chris Flintlock.”
“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “I guess you got my message.”
“I did, and I need you to tell me which airport you booked Scarlett out of.”
She chuckles, “One of my assistants did the booking Chris, but I can have her check if you wa—”
“Yes,” I say, not even letting her finish the word. “Now please, this is time sensitive.”
“Right. Okay.” Maureen sounds flustered, and there’s a part of me that feels a little bad for getting in her face, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Scarlett fly away tonight because of a goddamn misunderstanding. When she comes back on the line she seems calmer. “She’s booked out of LaGuardia. Delta Airlines. Can I ask if something is wrong?”
“Not yet. We’ll see. Thanks Maureen.”
“Chris, about the—”
I hang up. I don’t have time to answer any other questions. I grab my coat and wallet, practically sprinting for the door. If there’s any luck in the world I’ll be able to catch her before she gets on the plane. I’ll make them page the whole damn airport. She’s not leaving this city if I can help it.
I hail the first cab I can see, and he skids to a stop in front of me. I hop in the back. “I need to get to LaGuardia,” I tell the driver, “and there’s a bonus in it if you get me there in less than thirty minutes.”
The driver looks at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but he pulls off, and I lean my head back against the seat. How could I have been so stupid? I should have called Maureen back and told her that I over reacted to the incident with Scarlett. I would have told her that she’s great, that she’s perfect, that she turned out to be exactly what I needed and more. I try Scarlett’s cell again. I try it multiple times, every time it goes to voicemail. That’s not a good sign. The minutes absolutely crawl by, and with each tick of the clock I get more nervous that she’s slipping out of my grasp.
The phone rings, and I glance down, my heart falling when I see it isn’t her number. It’s Jason—the call I should really be hoping to get.
“Chris Flintlock,” I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers and trying to sound professional and not like a desperate teenager.
“Chris,” Jason says. “
Hey, I just wanted to give you a heads up that corporate loved your material. They’ll be giving us the final word in the morning, but I can’t imagine we won’t be signing a contract tomorrow.”
“That’s great, Jason. Thank you for letting me know.”
“What do you say we go out for drinks, get in an early celebration.”
“I really would love to,” I say, imagining how much better it would be if I could take Scarlett to drinks instead of chasing her down, “but something really urgent has come up, and I’m on my way to take care of it now.”
“Love trouble?” he asks, and I stay silent, not knowing what to say. He takes my silence for the admission that it is, and chuckles. “Go get her, brother. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
“Talk to you soon.”
