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But she’s not anymore, Linc. You fucked up, remember?
My dad closes the meeting with a quick thank you and over ninety of our managers, deputy managers, and supervisors stand up at the same time. My attempts to get out of my aisle are futile as my happy chattering employees pass by on their way out toward the exit. Out of politeness, I wait for them all to leave while standing on my toes to see over their heads trying to get a glimpse of Violet.
I must surely be dreaming. It’s the only explanation for her being here.
As the last stragglers make their way up the aisle, I eye the front of the room, but there is no one there.
My dad is gone, as is Violet.
I run my hands through my freshly cut hair.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I clench my eyes shut and open them again. I am definitely awake.
Pulling out my phone from my jacket pocket, I hit my dad's name and call him.
But it just rings. I try again.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” My eyes dart around the empty space.
Still no answer, so I drop him a text while running to the back of the room.
Me: What is going on?
They must have gone through the hidden pocket doors we have scattered throughout the hotel.
Sliding the pocket door open, I poke my head into the hidden staff corridor, frantically looking left and right. Nothing and no one.
“Shit,” I hiss.
I’m being played for a fool.
I check my phone. It glares back at me as my text message goes unanswered.
I pull up my dad's calendar and it has a dinner date in the calendar for half past five and it’s marked as Dinner with Eva and the kids at Edith and Charlie’s. They are having dinner at Eva’s parents' house tonight.
I dash to the hotel entrance where the receptionists are of no help either. Sorry, you just missed your father; I haven’t seen anyone named Violet, then the real kicker… he’s left for the day.
It’s official. I’m going mad and I’m seriously considering checking myself into an asylum.
Did it happen? She was here, wasn’t she?
I slap my phone against the palm of my hand over and over, questioning my sanity and contemplating what to do. I’m out of ideas, so I text Jacob and Owen.
Me: She’s here. I saw her.
Owen: Who?
Jacob: The Queen?
Owen: Please tell me it’s JLo.
Jacob: Beyoncé.
Owen: Adele?
Jacob: She is the Queen.
