Chapter Six Ella
Chapter Six
Ella
Reluctantly, I glanced at my phone – nothing from Philip.
An ache settled heavy in my chest every time I thought about him.
It felt strange not to wake up beside him and not to receive my usual good-morning messages.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d stormed out of the restaurant, the disappointment in his eyes when I’d told him I was coming to New York.
Had I taken it too far? Had I gone into full-on defensive mode because I knew he’d be angry?
Bringing up ridiculous things like his shitty sports obsession?
My eyes began to fill with tears, but I brushed them away immediately.
Not today, Ella. Today is about the pitch, not Philip fucking Khan.
I took my key card and headed down to the lobby. A doorman stood there.
‘Hey there, you’re one of the girls on floor thirty-one, right?’ His smooth accent and wide grin made me smile.
‘That’s right. I’m Ella, lovely to meet you,’ I said, holding out my hand.
He shook it proudly. ‘Call me Otis. I was wondering when you’d come out of your room. Did jet lag beat you three last night?’ He laughed, pulling open the door.
‘Yes! Well, one of my friends, Katy, went out and she hasn’t surfaced yet. She was probably eating dollar pizza slices and telling you all about her man problems at two in the morning last night.’ I giggled, picturing how much Katy would love a chatty doorman to vent to.
‘No, ma’am, she didn’t pass through here last night. I know every person who comes in and out of this building,’ Otis replied.
I paused, my hand hovering over my Apple watch.
‘You must have missed her. Maybe you were on a break?’ I offered.
‘No, ma’am. I don’t take no break,’ he said, tilting his head.
I was just about to ask how he went for a piss when the implication of his words hit me: What if Katy hadn’t come back?
‘I’m sorry, Otis, I have to go back up and check something,’ I said, a bolt of panic drumming through me.
‘Sure thing, Miss Ella,’ he said, still holding the door open as I ran towards the elevator.
It counted upwards slowly while my mind raced. Where was she? What about the pitch? Was she OK? Had she got drunk and passed out? Got lost? Or worse. Why the hell had I let her go out with a complete stranger?
The lift pinged open and I bolted towards Katy’s bedroom, flinging the door wide open. Her bed was untouched, her suitcase still lying on top of it.
‘ZOLA!’ I screamed at the top of my lungs. I pulled out my phone and called Katy – no answer. ‘Zola!’ I screamed again.
Zola staggered out of her bedroom moments later, wearing a black T-shirt and her pink silk bonnet. ‘What’s up? It’s still the middle of the fucking night, El,’ she said, her voice cracking with sleep.
‘Katy isn’t home yet. It’s quarter to six, Zo. She’s not answering her phone. Have you heard from her?’ I texted frantically as I spoke.
‘For fuck’s sake.’ Zola shook her head. ‘Why does she do this? She’ll be fine. She probably hooked up with some loser and lost track of time.’
My hands shook. ‘What about the meeting? She knows how important this is! She wouldn’t miss this, Zo. We don’t know where she is or who she’s with. We don’t have his name or anything. What will we do?’ Every possible scenario flooded my mind in quick, relentless succession.
‘OK, whoa. Calm down.’ Zola wrapped her arms around my shoulders. ‘We’ll pitch just as planned. We know it inside out. Katy will be back by then, and we can tell her to smile and nod, OK? Let’s get ready as planned, yeah?’
I nodded, trying Katy again, but the phone just rang out.
‘Come on, let’s grab a coffee. We’ve got this,’ Zola said with a smile, ushering me through to the living room.