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“It could have been me, dude,” Tristan said. “I could have died. Good thing I skipped work that day.”
I tried to settle the racing thoughts that filled my brain, tried to maintain a calm, sane facade, when internally I was screaming.
“Who…do they know who he was?” I asked.
“Nah, man. I’d think like part time help or something, but they say he just walked in off the street to clean toilets and not get paid or nothing. What an idiot.” He shook his head. “Look, there’s vomit all over the women’s bathroom. If I don’t go clean it soon, they’ll yell at me again.”
“Thank you for your time.”
“You already said that, but uh, no problem. Peace.” He put his earbud back in and made his way down the hall.
The bag in my hand began to slip. I tightened my grip, turned around, and dropped it off at the craft services table in the hall.
My feet moved on their own accord, carrying me away from this place, away from the events that had just transpired.
My entire body felt numb. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. Everything I thought I knew was a lie, and I had nowhere to turn. I wasn’t Tristan.
TWENTY-FIVE
MORGAN
“What is that smell?” Layana elbowed her way through the group to the end of the craft services table and took a big ol’ whiff of a white bag. “It’s like…spicy, greasy, mouth-watering heaven.”
I knew that smell.
I knew that bag with the elephant on it.
Happiness filled me up like being curled up in the winter beside a cozy.
“Morgan, your name is on here,” Layana said. “Did you order delivery?”
I shook my head.
I walked past her and looked around the corner. Clearly Tristan had come so we could share a lunch, which was super sweet. Did someone shoo him away before he could give it to me?
Layana flashed me a wicked grin. “I’m opening it. I’ll make sure it’s not a bomb.”
I chuckled. “It’s not a bomb. It’s Indian food. Tristan must have brought it. But I don’t see him.”
“There’s two boxes of something really good smelling in here.” Layana beamed at me. “You’re going to share with your best friend, right?”
“Friends,”Chester said.
Two servings meant Tristan had definitely intended to stay and eat with me, right? At the very least, if someone had made him leave, they would have let him leave a note or something first.
Glitter cupped her hands and called out, “Tristan! Morgan’s looking for you. Are you still here?”
A guy with a mop and bucket stepped out of the women’s bathroom and grinned down the hall at us. “Did someone say Tristan? I’m Tristan. I hope it’s something good, like Tristan’s allowed to eat food from the table now.”
“Where do you think Tristan usually eats food?” Glitter whispered.
“On the floor.” Chester plucked off a piece of his cheese beard and popped it into his mouth. “And why do you think Tristan talks about Tristan in the third person?”
I hardly heard them. My attention was completely on Mop Guy with his striped vest that looked just likemyTristan’s.
Goosebumps spread across my skin from a chill in the air that didn’t exist—an anxious feeling to match the ball of nerves forming in my chest.
Were there two Tristans with the same vest working in or around this building?
