Chapter 11 #2
I know his felicitations are honest, because I’d approached him for Joel’s job, first. Unfortunately, he and another woman on this floor both turned it down.
They’re happy getting paid almost as much to do less work, and I don’t blame them.
If Kristin works out, she’ll get more promotions and take over more of my responsibilities so I can work less.
I hope she works out.
Before Joel started working here, this place was free of drama. I’d like to return it to that former glory. We do a good job, every time. Like clockwork. Slow and steady. It makes us trustworthy, and that means a lot when we’re handling everyone’s data and money.
Something flickers in Kristin’s eyes as I step away. Understanding. I think she gets it—there was a seed of sexual interest there for a moment, but I’ve nipped it in the bud.
Good thing, too, because like I said, I don’t want drama. Sebastian is supplying plenty of that at the moment.
Sebastian
It’s been a few days since I last saw Ella, and I’m missing her. We’ve texted, mostly song lyrics that I’m curious whether she likes or not. She sends me some of hers, too. It’s a new feeling, being vulnerable like this with a woman, baring more of myself than I’m used to.
I have to settle for texts rather than seeing her in person because she’s working so damn much. I hate it. I wish I could give her whatever money she needs for rent so she could spend more time with King and me, but I know she’d never accept it.
Morning light streams through my windows, lighting up my living room. I pick up my phone and review our texts from last night.
Me: What do you think of the phrase “charred heart” in that last verse I sent you?
Ella: If you change it, I’ll cut you.
Then she put in several laughing emoji before adding, I mean it. Don’t change that phrase .
I’ve played all night, tinkering and messing with this song, and I want nothing more than to share it with Ella.
Hoping she’s awake, I text her again. Good morning, princess. I want to play a song for you. In person .
She’s writing back, but the three little dots showing she’s typing appear, then disappear. Then they appear again.
I can come to you , I write.
No, I’ll come to you. I’m just waking up. I need to be in Dorado Heights for work in a couple of hours, anyway. And I want to see your place .
I look around my place. It’s clean enough, I guess. Mostly cluttered with notebooks, pens, guitar picks. I’d love nothing more than to have Ella here. When sending her my address, I add the elevator code so she can come right in.
See you soon , she writes.
Can’t wait .
I tidy up some things, make coffee, eat a piece of toast. I wonder if there’s enough time to get some real breakfast delivered, because Ella never feeds herself as well as she should.
I’m looking over an online menu for the nearest diner when my buzzer sounds, alerting me to a guest. But Ella should be able to let herself in.
Maybe she forgot the code or can’t get to her phone for some reason.
I press the button to allow her up, then wait in front of the elevator to pull my little princess into my arms.
But when the elevator doors open, it isn’t Ella who stands in front of me. It’s Trina.
My arms fall.
“Oh, don’t look so happy to see me,” she says with a braying laugh. “Were you expecting someone else at this hour?”
“Nope.” It’s a lie, but maybe I can get her out of this place quickly, before Ella shows up. “What can I do for you?”
She strides past me to the living room area, where she shoves aside a notebook on the sofa and sits down, looking completely at home here even though I think she’s only been inside my penthouse a couple of times. She says, “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving in a couple of days.”
I shouldn’t feel so relieved at this announcement, but I do. Getting Trina out of my city will free up my mind. I won’t constantly be worried about her subtle threat, what she might say to people about that night seven years ago.
“Well, thanks for letting me know,” I say.
“I’d still like to have dinner with you before I go.” She points an accusing finger at me. “You’ve been avoiding me, and there are a few things I want to go over with you.”
“Can we talk about them now?” I ask. Here, in private, without anyone possibly overhearing us in a crowded restaurant.
“I guess,” Trina says, a smug smile on her lips.
“Well?” I wave my hand at her. “Don’t keep me in suspense, T.”
She laughs. “I found her.”
“Who?”
“Your little nightingale.”
“My—who?” I ask, even as my heart starts banging out a rhythm of panic.
“The rando chick who sang with you at the karaoke place,” she says. “She’s a student at San Esteban School of the Arts. No surprise—I can tell the girl’s had some training, although she could use a little more. That kind of talent is rare, though, so I’m glad she’s nurturing it.”
She found Ella. Shit. And she thinks she’s a student. Easy enough mistake, I guess, since Ella used to be a student, and she’s around the traditional age for college.
“Of course, she sounded fantastic when she sang with you,” Trina says, scanning me with her green eyes. “Your chemistry was incredible. What do you think of doing a collaboration?”
“Have you spoken to her?” I ask.
“Not yet. I think I spooked her by accident. I’m going to wait until the time is right.”
At that moment, the worst possible thing happens.
The elevator doors open, and Ella walks in. She’s cute as always, even in her maid uniform, and her face is flushed, probably because she hurried over here.
My shoulders feel so heavy, like someone’s pushing down on me, trying to dunk me under water. I nearly drowned the first time I tried to surf, and this feeling is eerily similar.
Ella looks between Trina and me, confusion on her face. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”