Chapter 23 – She’s Gone?
Ibang on her door a couple more times, and she still doesn’t answer. What. The. Fuck. I’d only slipped out of my room for a few hours early this morning. There was an urgent drunk and disorderly guest who got himself arrested last night, and as one of my jobs as best man, keeping the wedding attendees in check, I had to go and deal with it.
The lady who’s been going in and out of her room for the last few days cleaning comes walking up the corridor behind me and asks, “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, I’m just looking for the girl who was in this room.” “She left.” Left?
“What do you mean she left?” I growl.
She steps back. “Well, she left this morning, sir. She left with her bags. I helped her downstairs.”
“What time?” Why I ask, like it matters, I don’t know.
“It was early this morning, is there anything I can help you with, sir?”
“Where did she go?” “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” What the fuck?
“Sir, I have no idea why she left. So, can I get on with my job, please?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before entering Pearl’s room and closing the door in my face.
My heart’s beating erratically as I stomp down the hallway toward the elevator, then into the reception area. I tap on the desk, hoping somebody will have an answer as to where she is. Why would she leave? Was it that bad? She was supposed to be here until Friday with me. Well, not with me, but she was part of the wedding party, and we’re not leaving until Friday. Which means she’s booked a flight and she’s gone home, or maybe she’s checked out and into somewhere else, like another hotel?
The lady behind the desk looks up at me. “Hi, sir, is there anything I can help you with?” She pushes her tits together, like she’s trying to impress me. Pre-Margo I would have happily taken her up on her offer, but not now.
“Listen, doll. There was a girl in the Luxe Lagoon Suite. Her name was Margo Jones? Do you happen to know where she went?”
She fumbles about on her computer in front of her, tapping away at her keyboard. “No, I don’t know, sir, I’ve only just started my shift.”
I curse out loud, making the receptionist jump. That’s just lovely. Who the fuck is gonna know where she went? She had beef with Max at the speeches, but they were talking fine after that. Though Max seemed preoccupied with some old guy when Margo and I left last night, so I doubt she’d know.
Maybe Hallie? I pull out my phone and dial Logan’s number. He answers after three rings, “It better be important, I’m dealing with my wife here.” His tone is gruff, even though he’s panting.
“Dude! Listen, the pianist, Pearl—”
“What about her?”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Colton, I’m in the middle of loving my wife here.” I burst out laughing, as I can hear Hallie giggling in the background.
“Well, can you ask her?”
“Pidge, do you know where the piano chic is?”
“No, no idea? I don’t think so. I know Mr. D said something …” I sit and listen to them talk about Logan getting all jealous and possessive over Hallie calling Mr. Bright Vests, Mr. D. He says something about he’s got the only “Mr. D she ever needs.”
I can’t take any more of it, so I shout, “Can you please just fucking tell me where she is?”
Hallie grabs the phone from Logan and tells me she will text me Mr. D’s number. She said he said something about a trial, but she wasn’t too sure what that was about. I hang up and wait patiently for the text and storm back up to my room, ready to fucking get out of here.
But of course, whenever I need to do something important, there’s the grim reaper called my father. He scurries to catch up with me and I call over my shoulder, “What do you want?
I’m remarkably busy, Jeffory.” He hates it when I call him that.
“Yes. Well, I saw you snuggling up to that pianist.” I stop and spin to face him.
“What’s it to do with you?” I bare my teeth at him.
I punch the lift button, ready to get out of here as soon as I can. I’m done. I’ve done my bit. I’ve been the best man I can be. That’s it. I’m out of here.
“I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.” His voice low and for once sounding like he might give a shit.
I spin around again. “I’m not interested, okay? I’m not interested.”
“Look, Colton, I know I’ve not been the most understanding guy in the world. You know,
I’m not the best dad, I-I see that, and I am a little tough on you.”
A little tough? I pinch my brows together and rub the back of my neck. Is he for real right now? He wants to do this. I’m getting angry. My palms are sweating. Everything feels heavy and numb. And here he is wanting to play fucking Dad of the Year. Where the fuck has, he been?
“Listen, okay. I know a thing about women, maybe I can help you with what the fuck is going on?”
I’m getting anxious and frustrated the more he talks, and I brace my hands on the walls to try and control my breathing. I don’t look at him. “Jeff, I’m not interested, okay, I’m sorry. I have to go; I can’t do this right now.”
I feel a little bit guilty for brushing him off, even though it’s what he’s done to me my entire life. Maybe when I get back to the city, I might catch up with him, maybe it’s time we talk this out. But now, it’s time for me to find her.
By the time I get to my room, Hallie has texted me Pearl’s teacher’s number. Here we go.
It rings a couple of times before he answers, “Mr. Donovan.” Mr. Bright Vests is what I want to say, but I don’t. “Hi, I’m calling as we kind of met a couple weeks ago. I was in your classroom with Margo Jones, remember? Wondering if you can help me? Do you happen to know where she is? Hallie said something about a trial?”
“You mean audition? She’s got an audition.”
“For what?”
“The NYC Symphony Orchestra, it was supposed to be next week, but they pulled it forward early. I don’t know why.” He isn’t giving me the full story, but I push on.
“Okay, well did she go?”
“I bought her a flight this morning. She’s already gone, she’s coming back to the city.” Okay. All right. Well at least I know where she is.
“Well, enjoy the rest of your week in Barbados,” he says, his tone flat. Is this guy serious right now? My gut feeling is he doesn’t want me to come back to the city while Margo’s there.
“Yep, sure. No worries, man. Thank you for your help. I got to go.” I hang up before he can say anything else. I have got to get back to the city. Maybe this is it. Maybe if I’m there and she sees I’m there, she’ll know I support her and I’m not gonna try and stop her. Maybe, that’s it, maybe that’s what I need to do. It’s not a maybe—it’s what I’m gonna do.