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He turned to me. “Simon, security is on their way, I suggest you go and cool off before they arrive.”
Grateful for his kindness, I turn to leave the room. But no way am I going to cool off.
I walked out of that conference room on a mission.
An hour later, I am at LaSalle and Willis’ offices, standing in the reception. The receptionist finally looks up and asks dispassionately, “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I am here to see Adelaide Dennis.”
“Are you with the press? They left here yesterday after we informed them she no longer worked for us.”
“She no longer works here?” The air leaves my chest.
“No, she doesn’t. Are you from the press? I can give you a copy of our prepared statement.” She starts to hand me a media packet.
“No, I am not. I am a friend. Do you know how I can reach her? Her number isn’t working.” I hear the desperation in my voice, but I don’t care.
“I can’t give you any further information.” She starts to look at me nervously, reaching over to pick up her phone. “If you don’t leave I will call security.”
That’s the last thing I need.
I turn away and leave, feeling like my whole world has just slipped through my fingers.
December 14, 2014
It has been two weeks without a single word from Addie. Fourteen days, six hours, and 13 minutes.
I am ready to lose my fucking mind.
I’ve tried everything. Cara and Louis have been incommunicado as they have been with the Paris Ballet on tour in Australia for the last two weeks. Neither one of them responding to my voicemails, texts, or emails.
Sleep has become something I can only do fitfully. I eat only when forced to by Mercy, and work is a disaster.
The only bright side is that Matthew has been fired. Apparently, stealing an employee’s information is a crime. They let him avoid involving the police by “resigning”. It’s a small victory, but I feel like I’ve done something for Addie.
Her apartment is vacant, her emails bounce back. It’s like she has disappeared, and I’m sitting here, thinking I need to hire a private investigator myself to find her.
I pull out my phone to do a search on my browser, and for the hundredth time today, the selfie we took in Paris is the first thing I see. I’ve made it my phone’s wallpaper.
I can’t believe how fleeting that happiness was. I don’t want to believe Addie is gone without me being able to find her.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, head in my hands, staring at the picture of the most beautiful woman in the world. Holding her in my hands, yet she is so far out of reach.
Mercy and Henry come in from their jaunt down to the market. Mercy stops short when she sees me.
“Simon, son. What’s wrong?” She asks as she plops Henry down on her way to the kitchen. He crawls his way to me and immediately grabs for my phone.
I hand it over without much protest and lean back to stare at the ceiling. I haven’t really talked to Mercy about Addie.
She was here the night we all watched the CNN story about her, and she fumed about her, called her a liar and a cheat. That day, I didn’t say anything in Addie’s defense. I was in shock and I didn’t know how I felt.
She hasn’t said a word since, and honestly, I haven’t felt like talking about it. Kyle has stopped asking me if I’d heard from her a few days ago when I nearly ripped his head off while playing rugby.
“Everything.” I respond, not bothering to hide how bleak I feel.
Henry is banging on my phone and screaming, “A-eee A-eee.” He misses her, too. I feel completely helpless. I grab my laptop to resume my search for a PI.
“What does that mean, Simon? What do you mean, what’s right? You still moping over that girl?” The harsh derision in her voice makes me look at her.
